Free Running From Forever by Ashley Wilcox Page A

days too long for me.
    Miles ordered his typical gin and tonic then
ushered me to a nearby high table away from the congestion of the
bar, our chairs much closer than Tuesday. We were facing each
other, my legs crossed just to the side of his with our faces only
a few feet apart. His thumb caressed the top of my thigh while he
told me about his dinner. I tried to pay attention and seem
intrigued by his work, but my mind kept wandering to his touch,
focusing on each circle his thumb painted through my skirt, getting
turned on even more with each pass it made. I was ready to
explode.
    “I’d like to take you to the gala tomorrow,” he
added, getting my attention.
    I looked at him, confused. What is he talking
about now? “Gala?”
    He chuckled. “Were you not listening?”
    I shook my head, snapping out of it. “No, I’m
sorry. I must have missed that. You want me to attend a dinner with
you?” I asked.
    “A gala, though there will be dinner,” he said
with a smile. “And yes, if you’d like. ETV hosts the Love With
Words gala every fall. I’d love to have you as my date.”
    Warmth filled my heart. He wanted to bring to me
to a business event. One that you get all dressed up and fancy for.
I’d only seen those things on movies; I’d never been to one. I’d
never even gone to prom. Only dreamt.
    “I’d be honored to,” I happily agreed, my smile
wide and excited.
    “I should warn you,” he started with an eyebrow
raised, “I’ve never escorted a date before. I’m predicting there
may be some glares.”
    I leaned in close, our cheeks almost touching,
as my hand rested on the top of his thigh, whispering, “I think I
can handle it,” into his ear.
    Miles eyes narrowed as he wet his lips again,
staring at me in bewilderment as I leaned back into my chair. “Have
I told you about the view from my place?” he asked, taking a hard
sip of his drink.
    I shook my head, matching his glare. “I don’t
believe you have.”
    His grin appeared, this time mischievous as he
stood and took my hand. “I’d love to show you, Ms. Reynolds.”
    “Kayla.”
    He snickered. “Yes, my apologies,” he smirked,
amused, “Kayla.”
    With that, I took command, hopping down from my
chair and taking his hand in mine. His smirks, his grins, and his
all-around presence had brought my every craving to the surface. I
wouldn’t be able to hold any longer. I needed to have more of Miles
Blackwell. I needed to feel what his body felt like above mine. I
was caving. Very, very quickly.
    ***

 
     
    The elevator ride up
was atrociously long; especially when I had Miles Blackwell’s thumb
and finger stroking the back of my neck. Yes, he’d done it before,
but this time with different meaning. It was a filler. It was an
“imagine these fingers somewhere else” gesture. And I did. Over and
over again, on every inch of my body, just waiting for the damn
elevator to stop.
    When it finally did and the doors opened
straight into his home, my breath hitched. His apartment was
breathtaking. The colors throughout screamed single bachelor—dark
mahogany hardwood floors, white walls covered with neutral colored
décor, and I’m sure there was a man cave or a game room somewhere.
What caught my eye and left me speechless, though, was the wall of
windows standing before me. It was right out of a magazine; you
could see the whole city below you.
    “Stunning, isn’t it?” Miles asked, coming beside
me with a glass of wine in hand for both of us.
    “Incredible,” I answered, accepting the glass
and taking a sip. It was delicious. I was more a beer drinker than
anything else, but the wine was enjoyable, the perfect amount of
sweet and dry.
    I was unaware of the patio outside the glass
until the wall began to separate and slide to each side. The
outside living area was just as exquisite, glass for balcony walls
and lavish outdoor furniture with perfectly groomed greenery. I was
sure I’d seen it in a magazine. My eyes and body were