"There's no way I was the louder one," he says with his lips still touching mine. "If anything, we tied."

I shake my head. "I don't believe in ending things with a tie. That's a copout for people who are too scared they might lose."

His hands meet my hips, and he's positioned against me in such a way all I would have to do to take him inside me would be to allow it to happen. However, I'm refusing to lower myself onto him simply because I like compet.i.tion and I feel one about to begin.

He lifts his hips, obviously ready to get things going between us. My legs tense, and I pull away just enough.

He laughs at my resistance. "What's wrong, Tate? You scared now? Afraid once I'm inside you, we'll both see who the loud one really is?"

There's a challenging gleam in his eyes. I don't verbally accept his challenge to see who can stay quieter. Instead, I keep my eyes locked with his while I slowly ease myself onto him. Both of us gasp simultaneously, but that's the only sound that pa.s.ses between us.

As soon as he's all the way inside me, his hands meet my back, and he pulls me against him. The only sounds we make are heavy sighs and even heavier gasps. The rain slapping against the windows and the roof magnifies the silence we're experiencing inside the car.

The strength it takes to hold back is coupled with a need to hold on to each other with more desperation. His arms are around my waist, gripping me so tightly it makes it hard to move. My arms are wrapped around his neck, and my eyes are shut. We're barely moving now because of the tight grips we have on each other, but I like it. I like how slow and steady our rhythm remains while we both focus on how to continue suppressing the moans caught in our throats.

For several minutes, we continue in the same manner, moving just enough but at the same time not nearly enough. I think we're both too afraid to make any sudden movements, or the intensity will cause one of us to lose.

One of his hands glides around to my lower back, and the other hand meets the back of my head. He takes a handful of my hair and gently tugs until my throat is exposed to his mouth. I wince the second his lips meet my neck, because staying quiet is a lot more challenging than I imagined it would be. Especially since he's at an advantage with the way we're positioned. His hands are free to roam anywhere they want, and that's exactly what they're doing right now.

Roaming, caressing, trailing down my stomach so that he can touch the one place that could make me cede victory.

I feel like he's cheating somehow.

As soon as his fingers find the exact spot that would normally make me scream his name, I tighten my hold around his shoulders and reposition my knees so that I have more control of my movements. I want to put him through just as much torture as he's putting me through right now.

As soon as I'm repositioned and able to ease myself further onto him, the slow-and-steady disappears. His mouth meets mine in a frantic kiss-one with more need and more force than any kiss before it. It's as if we're attempting to kiss away our natural desire to verbalize just how good this feels.

I'm suddenly hit with a sensation that ripples through my entire body, and I have to lift myself off of him and hold still before I lose. Despite my need to slow things down, he does the opposite and applies more pressure to me with his hand. I bury my face against his neck and bite down gently on his shoulder in order to stop myself from moaning his name.

The second my teeth meet his skin, I hear the hitch in his breath and feel the stiffening in his legs.

He almost loses.

Almost.

If he moves inside me even an inch more while he's touching me this way, he'll win. I don't want him to win.

Then again, I kind of do want him to win, and I'm thinking he wants to win with the way he breathes against my neck, gently lowering me back down onto him.

Miles, Miles, Miles.

He can sense that this isn't about to end in a tie, so he adds more pressure against me with his fingers at the same time as his tongue meets my ear.

Oh, wow.

I'm about to lose.

Any second now.

Oh, my word.

He lifts his hips when he pulls me against him, forcing an involuntary "Miles!" out of my mouth, along with a gasp and a moan. I lift off of him, but as soon as he realizes he just won, he exhales heavily and pulls me back onto him with more force.

"Finally," he says breathlessly against my neck. "I didn't think I could last another second."

Now that the compet.i.tion is over, both of us let loose completely until we're being so loud we have to kiss again to stifle our sounds. Our bodies are moving in sync, speeding up, crashing harder together. We continue our frantic pace for a few more minutes, escalating in intensity until I'm positive I can't take another second of him.

"Tate," he says against my mouth, slowing the rhythm of my hips with his hands. "I want us to come together."

Oh, holy h.e.l.l.

If he wants me to last any longer, he can't say things like that. I nod my head, unable to form a coherent response.

"Are you almost there?" he asks.

I nod again and try my best to speak this time, but nothing comes out other than another moan.

"Is that a yes?"

His lips have stopped kissing mine, and he's focused on my response now. I bring my hands to the back of his head and press my cheek to his.

"Yes," I somehow utter. "Yes, Miles. Yes." I feel myself begin to tense at the same time as he sucks in a sharp breath.

I thought we were holding each other tightly before, but that doesn't begin to compare to this moment. It feels as if all our senses have magically melded together and we're feeling the exact same sensations, making the exact same noises, experiencing the exact same intensity, and sharing the exact same response.

Our rhythm gradually begins to slow, right along with the tremors in our bodies. The tight grips we have around each other begin to loosen. He buries his face into my hair and exhales heavily.

"Loser," he whispers.

I laugh and move to bite him playfully on his neck. "You cheated," I say. "You brought in illegal reinforcement when you started using your hands."

He laughs with a shake of his head. "Hands are fair game. But if you think I cheated, maybe we should have a rematch."

I raise my eyebrows. "Best two out of three?"

He lifts me by my waist and begins to push me toward the pa.s.senger door as he struggles to get behind the steering wheel. He hands me my clothes, pulls his shirt back over his head, and b.u.t.tons his jeans. Once he's situated, I adjust myself in the pa.s.senger seat and finish dressing while he cranks the car. He throws it in reverse and begins backing out. "Buckle up," he says with a wink.

We barely made it out of the elevator, much less to his bed. He almost took me right there in the hallway. The sad part is, I wouldn't have minded.

He won again. I'm beginning to realize that competing for who can stay the quietest isn't really a good idea when my compet.i.tor is naturally the quietest person I've ever met.

I'll get him in round three. Just not tonight, because Corbin will more than likely be heading home soon.

Miles is staring at me. He's on his stomach, with his hands folded across his pillow and his head resting on his arms. I'm getting dressed, because I want to beat Corbin to our apartment so I don't have to lie about where I've been.

Miles follows me around his bedroom with his eyes as I dress.

"I think your bra is still in the hallway," he says with a laugh. "Might want to grab it before Corbin finds it."

I crinkle up my nose at the thought. "Good idea," I say. I kneel down on the bed and kiss him on the cheek, but he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me forward as he rolls onto his back. He gives me an even better kiss than the one I was just giving him.

"Can I ask you a question?"

He nods, but it's a forced nod. He's nervous about my questions.

"Why don't you ever make eye contact when we're having s.e.x?"

My question throws him for a loop. He regards me for several silent moments until I pull even farther away and sit next to him on the bed, waiting for his answer.

He pushes himself up and leans back against his headboard, staring down at his hands. "People are vulnerable during s.e.x," he says with a shrug. "It's easy to confuse feelings and emotions for something they aren't, especially when eye contact is involved." He lifts his eyes to mine. "Does it bother you?"

I'm shaking my head no, but my heart is crying Yes! "I'll get used to it, I guess. I was just curious."

I love being with him but hate myself more and more with each new lie that pa.s.ses my lips.

He smiles and pulls me back to his mouth, kissing me with more finality this time. "Good night, Tate."

I back away and walk out of his room, feeling his eyes on me the entire time. It's funny how he refuses to make eye contact during s.e.x yet can't seem to keep his eyes off me the rest of the time.

I don't feel like going back to the apartment yet, so after retrieving my bra, I walk to the elevators and make my way down to the lobby to see if Cap is still around. I barely had a chance to wave at him earlier before Miles shoved me onto the elevator and ravished me.

Sure enough, Cap is still planted in his chair, despite the fact that it's after ten o'clock at night.

"Do you ever sleep?" I ask as I make my way to the chair next to him.

"People are more interesting at night," he says. "I like to sleep late. Avoid all the fools who are in too much of a rush in the mornings."

I sigh a lot louder than I intend to when I lean my head back into the chair. Cap notices and turns to look at me.

"Oh, no," he says. "Trouble with the boy? Looked like the two of you were getting along fine a couple of hours ago. Think I might have even seen a hint of a smile on his face when he walked in with you."

"Things are fine," I say. I pause for a few seconds, gathering my thoughts. "Have you ever been in love, Cap?"

A slow smile spreads across his face. "Oh, yes," he says. "Her name was Wanda."

"How long were you married?"

He looks at me and c.o.c.ks an eyebrow. "I ain't never been married," he says. "I think Wanda's marriage lasted about forty years before she pa.s.sed, though."

I tilt my head, trying to understand what he's saying. "You have to give me more than that."

He sits up straighter in his chair, the smile still on his face. "She lived in one of the buildings I did maintenance for. She was married to a b.a.s.t.a.r.d of a man who was only home about two weeks out of the month. I fell in love with her when I was around thirty years old. She was in her mid-twenties. People just didn't get divorced back then once they got married. Especially women like her who came from the type of family she came from. So I spent the next twenty-five years loving her as hard as I could for two weeks out of every month."

I stare at him, not sure how to respond to that. It's not the typical love story people usually tell. I'm not even sure if it can be considered a love story.

"I know what you're thinking," he says. "Sounds depressing. More like a tragedy."

I nod, confirming his a.s.sumption.

"Love isn't always pretty, Tate. Sometimes you spend all your time hoping it'll eventually be something different. Something better. Then, before you know it, you're back to square one, and you lost your heart somewhere along the way."

I stop looking at him and face forward. I don't want him to see the frown that I can't seem to remove from my face.

Is that what I'm doing? Waiting for things with Miles to become something different? Something better? I contemplate his words for way too long. So long, in fact, I hear snoring. I cut my eyes in Cap's direction, and his chin has dropped to his chest. His mouth is wide open, and he's sound asleep.

chapter eighteen.

MILES.

Six years earlier I rub her back rea.s.suringly. "Two more minutes," I tell her.

She nods but keeps her face pressed into the palms of her hands. She doesn't want to look.

I don't tell her we don't actually need the two minutes. I don't tell her the results are already there, clear as day.

I don't tell Rachel she's pregnant yet, because she still has two minutes left of hope.

I continue to rub her back. When the timer goes off, she doesn't move. She doesn't turn to look at the results. I drop my head to the side of hers until my mouth is close to her ear.

"I'm so sorry, Rachel," I whisper. "I'm so, so sorry."

She bursts into tears.

My heart is crushed at the sound.

This is my fault. This is all my fault.

The only thing I can think to do now is figure out how to rectify it.

I turn her toward me and wrap my arms around her. "I'll tell them you don't feel well and you can't go to school today. I want you to stay here until I get back."

She doesn't even nod. She continues to cry, so I pick her up and carry her to the bed. I go back to the bathroom and package up the test, then hide it underneath the sink in the very back. I rush to my room and change clothes.

I leave.

I'm gone most of the day.

I'm rectifying.

When I finally pull back up our driveway, I still have almost an hour before my father and Lisa are due home. I grab everything from my front seat and rush inside to check on her. I left my phone behind in my rush this morning, so I haven't had a way to check on her at all, and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't killing me.