I'm on fire.

We're in agreement. We're friends with benefits. We're about to have sex.

Why are we still talking?

Why are we still clothed?

Miles is endlessly patient. He moves closer. Until we're pressed together.

His eyes meet mine. The pretenses fade away as he traces the neckline of my tanktop. "Had enough conversation?"

I nod.

"Me too." He pulls the straps of my tank top off my shoulders. Slowly, he rolls the top to my stomach. "Been thinking about this all week."

"You have?"

"Yeah." He traces the outline of my bra. His eyes go wide. "First time I've gone a week without sex in a long time."

My breath hitches. Damn, his touch feels good. "Because of me?"

"Yeah." His voice drops low. "Wouldn't be right fucking some other girl if I was thinking of you."

He slides his thumb into my bra and uses it to tease my nipple.

I let out a sharp gasp. My back arches. My hands go straight to his shoulders. I have to do something to steady myself.

He makes slow circles with his thumb. They get faster, harder. Every brush of his fingers sends pleasure racing through my body. I've made out with guys before, been felt up before. But it was never even close to this.

I groan. I don't know what to say, how to react here. I look into his eyes so I can take his lead.

The only thing in his eyes is desire. There's no smugness in his expression. He's not cocky, casual, or aloof.

Right now, he's without pretenses.

I try to shake off my impulse to run from the intimacy. My eyelids press together. I nod a yes. I'm not sure what I'm asking for, only that I need it immediately.

Miles unhooks my bra. Slowly he rolls it off my shoulders.

He lets out a low groan. "Your tits are amazing."

I blush, blinking my eyes open so I can stare back at him. His eyes are fixed on my chest, like it's the best thing he's ever seen.

He brings one hand to my hip and pulls my body into his. It feels good, being close to him. It's terrifying how good it feels. Like I'll develop an addiction.

Again, I press my eyelids together. I try not to run from the reactions he's causing. He cups my breast, teasing my nipple with his thumb.

The backs of my legs press against the bed. Desire pools in my core. Damn, that feels amazing. I let out a groan. I lean into his touch.

He keeps teasing my nipple. Just when I think I can't take it anymore, he moves to my other breast.

My fingers dig into his shoulders. Then it's my nails. What am I supposed to do here?

"You're nervous," he whispers.

"It's nothing."

His voice softens. "I'll go slow." He presses his lips against my neck. "I'll walk you through it. Relax."

I nod.

His hands go to my hips. He pushes me onto the bed. I place my palms at my sides, keeping my balance so I can stay upright.

Miles lowers himself onto his knees. It's the same position we were in when he patched me up.

My breath hitches. I want this to go faster. I want his hands under my skirt.

He nudges my knees apart and places himself between them. It's not enough. His hands are on the bed, not on me.

I take a deep breath. He's leading. I can handle that.

He looks up at me, checking in. I nod a yes. A now. A please.

Miles brings his mouth to my nipple.

Fuck. It's soft and wet and warm.

Pleasure overwhelms me. My hands go to his messy brown hair as he sucks on me. Damn, that feels so good I can barely stay upright. I tug at his hair.

His moan reverberates against my skin. He wants this. He wants me.

Miles kisses his way to my lips. His tongue plunges into my mouth. His hands move to my thighs.

I spread my legs. Arch my back. I'm practically offering myself to him. It's scary how much my body wants his, the way it takes over.

But it feels so fucking good.

He takes the invitation. His hands slide under my skirt. His fingers brush against my panties.

No one has ever touched me before, not here. It's overwhelming. I'm dizzy with lust.

I fall onto my back, relaxing into the bed, relaxing into his touch.

Then he's on the bed. His body is next to mine.

I slide my hand under his t-shirt. Soft skin covers hard muscles. It feels good, touching him. I want more. I want to touch every inch of his skin.

It's terrifying how desperately I want every inch of his skin.

I take my time exploring the lines of his torso. I'm still dizzy. I'm not sure which way is up or down, only that I want him leading.

His lips find mine. He pulls my panties to my knees.

Slowly, my body takes over. My knees slide apart. My hands go to his hips.

My thoughts drift away. For once, nothing hurts. For once, I only feel pleasure.

His fingers tease my nipples, then they're on my stomach, then they're undoing the button of my skirt, sliding it off my hips, past my knees, all the way to my feet.

I'm naked. I'm naked with a man I barely know. And I want so badly to be here.

I'm not shy or worried I'm not good enough.

I'm aflame.

He groans with pleasure as he drags his fingertips over my thigh. Closer. Closer.

There.

His fingers skim my clit.

Fuck yes.

His eyes stay on me, studying my reactions. I nod.

He drags his fingers over me, teasing my sex. "Damn, you're already wet."

I let out a groan.

Miles slides one finger inside me. I take a deep breath. It's intense, but I can handle it.

Then he slides another finger inside me.

I bite my lip. I tug at his hair. He's slow about sliding his fingers deeper. Deeper.

I don't care how much he'll brag when we're finished. This feels too good. I have to groan.

I arch my back to push his fingers deeper. It's different, having his fingers inside me, but it's a very good different.

I want more than his fingers.

I want him inside me.

Miles brings his lips to mine. He kisses with intent. Damn, his kiss is hot, aggressive.

Little by little, he moves deeper, faster, harder.

Pleasure spreads through my thighs. I'm almost there.

But the worst thing imaginable happens.

The phone rings.

It's not my ringtone. It must be him.

He groans with pleasure. "Ignore it."

He slides his thumb over my clit.

Sensation overwhelms me. The knot of pressure is damn intense. It's better than anything I've ever felt before.

But that stupid phone is still ringing.

That voice inside my head is screaming. What if it's important? What if someone needs you and you're too late, again?

My body tenses.

Miles pulls his hand back to his side. His posture changes, as tense as mine. "You okay?"

I shake my head. "The phone. You should get it."

"You're about to come, and you'd prefer I use my hands to answer the phone?"

I nod. "Do you doubt your ability to get me back here?"

"No, but I'm going to scream if I'm not inside you soon."

The air escapes my lungs. God, that sounds amazing. But not if something is wrong. Not if someone needs us.

He pushes off the bed with a heavy sigh. This is as painful for him as it is for me.

He pulls his phone from his pocket and looks at the screen. Shakes his head. Answers. "Yes." His voice is strained. Like he can barely think, much less speak. "Give me an hour." He sighs. "Fine. But I can't teleport. It'll be at least half an hour." He ends the call and places his phone on the kitchen counter. His eyes find mine. "It's nothing you need to worry about. Just some drama at the Hollywood place."

"And you'll be there in half an hour?"

"Around that."

"You really think we're going to...in thirty minutes?"

He shakes his head. "That's not enough time to do this right."

"Oh." Suddenly, I feel cold, exposed, and not at all right. I'm naked and Miles is still dressed. He never bothered to take off a single article of clothing.

"I guess you're leaving then," I say.

This relationship, arrangement, whatever it is, is already off on the wrong foot.

"I'd really hate to leave without making you come," he says.

His eyes find mine. I squeeze my thighs together and slide back on the bed until I'm pressed against the headboard.

I take a deep breath. Relax, dammit. I can't let him have this much power over me.

I consider asking him to go. I can finish this on my own. It won't be as fun, but it won't leave me in knots either.

His expression is sincere. He seems sorry, truly sorry.

I can handle this.

"You have a serious time crunch there," I say.

He smiles, sits on the bed, and positions his body next to mine. He feels warm, hard to the touch.

His fingertips brush my nipples. I'm hot instantly. Every inch of my skin burns for his touch.

Miles sits up, his back against the headboard, his legs flat on the bed. He pulls my body into his, my knees outside his hips, so I’m straddling him.

Our eyes connect. I don’t know what his expression means, only that I like the intensity of it.

I settle into the position. I can feel him through his jeans. He's hard. Damn, I want that.

But this is good too.

He looks up at me. One hand curls around my neck. It guides me into a deep kiss. The other slides between my legs.

This is nothing but him giving me pleasure.

I'm going to enjoy it.

His tongue slides into my mouth as his thumb slides over my clit.

I kiss back, hard. It's a desperate plea for him to continue.

His touch is still patient. Soft. Then harder. Harder. Perfect.

I groan and dig my nails into his shoulders.

He reads me like a book, rubbing me with that same pressure, same speed.

Damn, that feels good.

I moan.

Almost.

I kiss him like this is the only chance I'll ever have to kiss anyone.

The tension between my legs builds to a fever pitch. It's intense. I can barely take it.

Almost.

There.

With his next stroke, I come. Pleasure spreads through my thighs. It's a hell of an orgasm. Different than when I'm on my own. Better.

I dig my hands into his hair. I squeeze my thighs together reflexively. His hand is still between them. His hand is still on me.

He's not stopping.

He strokes me again. Again. His lips stay pressed against mine. I suck on his tongue. I lose track of my body, arching, and squeezing, and melting exactly where I need to.

His touch gets harder. Faster. I'm almost there already.

I cry out loud enough to wake the neighbors.

I come again. All that tension in my body releases in a perfect wave of pleasure. I exhale every ounce of air in my lungs.

I melt into the bed. I'm a puddle. I'm shapeless.

Miles looks up at me. His lips curl into a smile. I'm not sure if it's smug or proud. Hard to say. At the moment, it's hard to say what day or month it is.

He kisses me goodbye. "Fuck, Meg. I guess I don't need to ask if you'll miss me." He slides off the bed. "My cock isn't going to forgive me for leaving."

I stifle a grin.

"I'll make this up to you next time." He collects his things and takes a step towards the door. "Sleep tight."

"You, too. I mean, after you get home."

He waves on his way out the door.

It takes every bit of energy I have left—almost nothing—but I drag myself out of bed to lock the door, brush my teeth, pull on a pair of pajamas, and collapse in bed.

Miles brought me to orgasm. Twice. The two most amazing orgasms of my life. And now, he's on his way home.

I take a deep breath, but the calm I had a moment ago eludes me. We're friends with benefits. Nothing like boyfriend/girlfriend.

No reason why I should miss him.

No reason there should be an uneasy feeling in my stomach.

It's late. I'm tired. I ate almost nothing for dinner.

That's it. That has to be it.