100 Lifetimes of Us (The Romantics #1)

by Maggie C. Gates

“I know the difference between friends, colleagues, and fuck buddies.” “Oh, do you now?” I retorted, unzipping the garment bag that held my suit for the event tomorrow. “Then what are we?” Annie looked caught off guard. “W-what?” “We’re friends.” I tugged the necktie off the hanger. “We’re colleagues.” I turned to face her, the tie coiling around my fist. Her cherry lips parted in surprise as she studied the tie in my hand.

Boundaries and consequences be damned. I needed an answer. “What do you say, Brave One? Are you willing to go for a hat-trick?” The deep brown of Annie’s eyes turned midnight black. Her breath hitched, then she nodded. “I’m gonna need verbal consent.” My lips grazed her ear. “Because if I remember correctly, you said you’d get drinks with that fucker unless you were tied up.” I gently grazed her cheek with my tie-wrapped fist. “And I don’t plan on letting you get drinks.” “Yes,” she panted.

“Wrists,” I ordered, beckoning her closer with a finger. She extended both without hesitation. I wrapped the necktie around her them, securing it in a knot. “You won’t be going anywhere tonight,” I said as I tested the fit.

Annie squealed, trying to right herself without the use of her hands. I flicked the button on her shorts open and yanked them down, taking her panties off with them. I swore colorfully as I took her in. “Baby girl, your body is a fucking dream.”

Annie’s hips rocked slow and steady. Her heart beat in a drumroll as I lathed her tits with my tongue. Everything about her was magic. “Oh—oh!” Annie’s body jerked, then went still. Her eyes fluttered open, and she gave me a soft smile. Everything came to a screeching halt as I blinked in disbelief. “Did you just fake an orgasm?”

“I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you’re a terrible actress and I’m calling bullshit on that little performance of yours.” His fingers scraped across my breast. “In my experience, when a woman climaxes—and I mean really climaxes—she’s sensitive. Her skin feels electric and she doesn’t want to be touched. She just wants to revel in the afterglow.” “You know, talking about other women in bed isn’t a great look,” I retorted. His remark was cutting. “The same could be said about faking an orgasm.”

Miles growled in frustration. “Just tell me why. Why did you start faking it? Why did you fake it with me?”

“I guess I could blame my college ex-boyfriend who would get frustrated with me when he couldn’t get me there. Or maybe the one who told me that I was broken. I could blame the guy who told me I was ungrateful because he had at least tried to get me to finish. I could blame the guy who told me that I just needed a few more glasses of wine to loosen up. I could chalk it up to the guy who used to chant “come on, come on, come on,” like he was angry at a football team or something.” I sighed. “I could blame all of them, but I’m the problem. I’m the common denominator. No guy should have to do foreplay for an hour because I can’t get out of my own head or get my brain to shut up long enough to just have a fucking orgasm.”

“But nothing, Brave One. Don’t argue with me. You’re not a broken toy. You’re one of those puzzle boxes that are hella fun, but no one’s taken the time to figure out how it works yet.”

“Why’d you fake it with me?” he asked in a low rumble.

“I… I guess I just freaked out. Everything was good and then I started worrying about letting it go on for too long and not getting anywhere and you getting frustrated with me and⁠—” “That’s enough. I understand.” Miles held me a little tighter.

“What’s it like when you touch yourself?” he asked.

He chuckled. “Come on, Annie. Don’t pretend like you don’t get yourself off. We all do it.” After a moment, he added, “I, for one, have been on the self-service train a lot since I was assigned to you.” He kissed behind my ear. “I can’t focus if I don’t.”

“Same problem,” I mumbled into the pillow. “I can’t get out of my head. It’s fucking loud in there. And trust me—I’ve tried. I’ve spent so much money on vibrators and they’re all scams.” “You write sex brilliantly,” he said gently. “I crave it,” I admitted. “I like being close like this. It feels good, but I hate being a burden. Maybe I’m just better suited to play out that craving between the pages instead of between the sheets.”

“What about all those book boyfriends you write?” he asked as he dragged the pad of his fingers over my G-spot. “What would they be thinking right now?” I whined as another tide of pleasure brought me closer to my peak, then flowed away. “I don’t know.” “Yes, you do,” he coaxed. “Your hero wouldn’t be thinking about anything except how fucking magical his love interest is. How soft and warm her pussy is. How much he can’t wait to get inside of her. How beautiful she looks on her back, spread out for him like a feast. He’d be thinking about the way she would look when she’s on top of him, riding his cock with her head thrown back. He’d be thinking that dying with her sitting on his face would be the best way to go. Fuck how long it takes.”

He was cut off by my ringing cell phone. Miles smirked as he eased off of me. “Don’t go anywhere,” he teased. “I wouldn’t want to have to tie the rest of you down.” “Just turn it off,” I said. Miles grabbed my phone and crawled back over me. “I don’t think so, baby girl.” He held up the screen so I could see who was calling as he slid three fingers inside of my pussy.

“You’ve reached Whitney West’s phone,” Miles said as he held my phone to his ear.

“Jordan Loft, my man,” Miles said with a wickedly satisfied smile as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out of me. There was a devilish twinkle in his eye. He was getting off on this. Pleasure built hard-and-fast inside of me before ebbing away. “No, Whitney won’t be at the author mixer tonight,” he said, flicking his eyes to my bound wrists. There was a devious satisfaction in his voice. “She’s a little tied up at the moment.”

“Unfortunately, she won’t be available later,” he said as he pulled out and spanked my pussy. Liquid arousal flooded my core as the sting melted into ecstasy. “She’ll be otherwise occupied this evening, but I’ll let her know you called,” Miles said as if he was sitting in an office, fielding calls on a mundane Tuesday morning. “Have a good evening, Mr. Loft.”

“Let me make myself perfectly clear, Annie,” he said as he moved down the bed and threw my thighs over his shoulders. “I don’t fucking share. Not your body. Not your brain. Not your attention.” He grabbed my hips and yanked me down the bed. “Do we have an understanding?”

Hell yea!

“Uh, you’ll have to share my attention with the bakery and Phee and book shit,” I stammered as my toes curled. Miles released my clit from his mouth as he slid two fingers inside of me. “You’re making up excuses. You know exactly what I mean, and you know that it has nothing to do with your careers.” “Right. Okay,” I panted as I tried to relax again.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted out as his tongue teased my clit. “It’s taking me forever and I⁠—” “I’m not going to make you climax, Annie,” he said gently. “So don’t worry about it. I’m not even going to try to.” I gasped as he twisted his fingers inside of me. “Then—” Oh sweet heavens he found the G-spot again. “Then what are you⁠—” Miles smiled against my cunt. “I’m just playing with your body because I want to. Because I love the way you feel beneath me. Because touching you and making you feel good is what I want to do for you. Because it turns me on. So just relax and enjoy it.”

“You like that?” I nodded. “Good girl. I like hearing you tell me what makes you feel good. I like it when you talk to me.” Fabric rustled as he shed his boxers. “I want your cock inside of me,” I said, breathlessly. “Yes, ma’am,” Miles said as he eased off of me and grabbed the Annie Pack, searching the front pocket. “Did you plan for this to happen or are condoms standard issue for K&A?” He laughed as he tore into it and sheathed himself. “A little of both. Now come on, pretty girl. Open up those legs nice and wide me. Let me see you.”

He tilted his hips, changing the angle just enough to give me a new wave of sensation. “How’s that?” he rasped in a low voice that was filled with sex and lust. My pussy clenched around him. “So fucking good.” Miles clicked his tongue. “I feel you trying to steal an orgasm.” He held his hips to mine and ground against my clit. “I told you—I’m not making you come.” “But—” I could feel it. I was almost—so—close⁠— Miles stopped teasing my clit and thrust in again. “Fuck, you feel incredible.”

He reached down and grabbed the back of my knee, drawing it up to press against my chest. I gasped at how deep he filled me with the new position. “Miles!” “That’s it, baby girl. Scream my name.” Skin slapped against skin as he grunted. “Tell the whole fucking hotel who you belong to.” He jammed his cock deep inside of me and rocked back and forth with perfect pressure, working the nerve endings in my clit until I was on a hair trigger. Before I could stop it, everything went electric. Miles groaned as his release filled the condom. My vision went glittery and my skin felt like I had touched a live wire.

“Annie—baby—” Miles’s breath was warm against my cheek. “Are you okay?” I swallowed and licked my lips to try and make the words easier. “I think I came.” He laughed. “Yeah—you did, pretty girl. How’d it feel?” I laughed. “Like letting out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding.”

Miles tilted my chin up and kissed me deep and slow. “I’m proud of you, Brave One,” he whispered. I nipped at his lip and grinned. “I want another one.”

I had always chalked up my lack of libido to my chaotic mind and my inability to finish. One tryst with Miles had changed that completely. He hadn’t fixed me, but he was patient. And that was better than any fictional, penetration-only orgasm. Part of me—a rather large part—hoped that maybe he cared about me as more than a job. But we were already blurring lines. I didn’t want to make things messier than they already were. I didn’t have time for a relationship, or even a flirtationship. Situationship?

I was about to move when he reached around, grabbed my throat, and crashed his lips into mine. The kiss stole my breath and my soul. “I’ve been waiting to do that all morning,” he mumbled as he went back for seconds. “Why’d you wait?” I asked when I pulled away, gasping for air. His grin was incinerating. “If I kissed you when we woke up this morning, I wouldn’t have been able to stop.” With one quick motion, he had me pinned against the wall with his hand between my legs. “But let this be a reminder to you that this—” he cupped my pussy “—is mine.” His gaze lowered to my mouth as he thumbed my lower lip before kissing me again. “This is mine too. All of you.”

Girl he wants a relationship

“So, that’s what you keep in that fanny pack,” Jordan commented from his spot behind his table. “I was wondering what you put in there.” I couldn’t see Miles, but I heard his snort and whispered comment. “I can fit a lot in Annie’s fanny.” I nearly choked on an M&M as a trio of readers stepped up. Jordan peered over at me. “You alright, Whit? Need some water?” “I’ve got it,” Miles said as he passed me a water bottle. I was almost certain he was glaring at Jordan. I cracked the top. “Are you gonna piss a circle around me?” “If I thought it’d work, I would. But considering he seems like the type to wrestle bears in the woods, I doubt he’d be deterred by a little piss,” he clipped before stepping back into the shadows. “Remember who you belong to, Ms. West.”

I greeted the next clump of readers while Miles spoke to Isla in hushed tones. “And you’ve had eyes on the building at all times?” he asked. “What about the guy she’s seeing? The football player?” Was he talking about Ophelia and Seth? “Male DNA doesn’t mean it’s not her behind it all. She’s the only one who makes sense,” Miles said quietly. “She could have had someone else highlight the pages.” Holy shit. He actually thought Ophelia was the mastermind behind the stalker mail.

“She’s keeping secrets from you,” Miles snapped. I whirled around on him. “Oh yeah? What kind of secrets?” “Like who she really is.” He was dead fucking serious. “Do you think I don’t know?” I hissed. “I’m perfectly aware of who she is. She’s⁠—” “Not actually rich,” he said. His tone was a verbal slap in the face. “Not actually from a “good” family. That she’s running borderline sweetheart scams? If she’s doing that to the likes of pro football players and socialites, what do you think she’s doing to you? How far do you think she would go to keep you in line?”

“Yeah, Miles,” I seethed. “I know all of it. I’ve known for a very long time. Every. Fucking. Detail.” “Annie—” “Did you ever think to ask me what I knew about her or did you just have your team of ninjas following her like she’s a criminal?” I slipped into the elevator right as the doors closed.

My heart dropped. A stocky figure in a ball cap yanked the door open from inside my room. Beady eyes met mine, and I gasped. The man looked over my head and swore at the sight of Miles running down the hall. “Stop right there!” Miles shouted. I screamed as the man threw me out of his way. The corner of my cheek and temple smacked the door frame. He bolted in the opposite direction of Miles, slipping down a narrow corridor. Miles, with his gun drawn, fell to his knees beside me. “We’ve gotta get out of the hallway,” he clipped as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and ushered me to his room next door.

“Ping my location and hack into the hotel’s security cameras. White male. Black baseball hat. Five-ten to six feet tall. Wide build. Gray jacket. Blue jeans. Sneakers. Probably heading for an exit.” “On it,” Isla said from the other end. “Stay with your client and I’ll notify the local authorities.” Miles kissed the top of my head. “Client is secure.”

I crumbled in his arms and sobbed. Burning tears scorched my cheeks as the adrenaline turned into fear. “I’ve got you,” he whispered as he kissed the blooming bruise on my temple. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

“I’m going to finish,” she said with more gumption than I thought was possible after literally running into her stalker. “Whoever that sick fuck is—he’s not taking this from me.”

“I’m not proving anything,” she clipped as she tossed her tissue, dropped the bundle of ice, and replaced her fear with anger. “I didn’t come this far to give up or run away. If I’m going to do it scared, I’m going to do it for myself and no one else. It’s my career and my dream. Contrary to what you think about Ophelia, I don’t do this for her or because of her. I started this for me, and it ends with me.” I couldn’t help the smile that worked up the corner of my mouth. “That’s my girl.”

I slipped on a pair of latex gloves and went next door. A single book lay on the bed. The Nature of Hope. I opened the book, flipped to the title page, and saw something that made my blood run cold. He had been in her line. They had been face-to-face. And this was undeniable proof that if he wanted to get close to her, he could. Because on the first page, in black felt-tip script, was Whitney West’s signature.

“I’m sorry about what happened in Dallas,” I said as I held her closer. “I shouldn’t have let you get that far away from me. I should have gone into the room first. I didn’t hold you to protocol and that’s on me.” I kissed her temple. “I also won’t be letting it happen again, no matter how pissed you are at me.” She squeezed my hand. “Ophelia’s a good person. She’s just… She can be hard to love if you don’t know her like I do.” Defensively, she added, “And she’s not a criminal.” Maybe not by the law’s standard. But in my book, people who used people were the worst kind of people.

“Welcome to The Drake Hotel,” the woman behind the front desk said with a smile. “Do you have a reservation?” “Yes,” I said, pulling out the AAB company credit card and handing it to her. “I believe it’s under Associates in Administrative Business.” Annie raised an eyebrow but, to my surprise, she didn’t call my bluff. “Ah, yes. We have you right here, Mr. Cortesi.”

“Lorenzo’s fine,” I said as I scribbled a totally bogus signature across the printed form. A few minutes later she was handing us keycards. “I hope you have a wonderful stay, Lorenzo.” She beamed at Annie. “You too, Amelia. My name is Becky. Please don’t hesitate to call down or stop by the desk if there’s anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable.” We barely made it to the elevators before Annie burst into a fit of laughter. “Oh my god! You did not make reservations using my book character names!”

“How did you even pull that off?” she gasped. “Don’t they check IDs and stuff?” I smirked. “You think Keller doesn’t give his asses fake IDs? I’ve got more identities than you do, Annie Cakes.” I paused and thought for a moment. “Fewer wigs. But more identities.”

“You’re gonna get outside, get warm, and get moving in jeans?” I asked. She smirked. “I can think of a way to get warm and get moving that doesn’t involve any clothes at all.” I laughed. “Come on, Annie Cakes. Getting outside will make you feel good.” “So will sex.” “No arguments there.” I pulled my phone out and made a change to her shared digital calendar. “I’ll pencil in ‘eating your pussy’ for after dinner.” Annie’s phone dinged, and she checked it. “Miles!” she gasped, rocketing off the bed. “You did not just put ‘going down on Annie’ in the calendar that Ophelia makes! She checks that like every five minutes!”

“Seriously, Miles. Put me down. This is embarrassing.” “Nope,” I clipped as I stepped into the elevator. “It’s efficient. I won’t lose time by chasing you down. Think of it this way. The sooner we have lizard time, the sooner I’ll lick your cunt until you’re begging me to let you come.” A startled man in a three-piece suit looked wide-eyed at us from the corner of the elevator.

The man shuffled out and offered a chin tip. “Good luck with your …” he paused and scratched his head, trying to come up with what to call the woman over my shoulder. “Eh—Good luck.” “Have a good one,” I said with a cheery wave.

The midday sun was blinding as we stepped out of The Drake and onto the busy sidewalk. I glanced at the map on my phone and headed down the sidewalk, keeping Annie’s hand in mine. Hand-holding was typically counterproductive when it came to escaping a situation—no matter how much they did it in the movies. But today wasn’t an escape and evade kind of afternoon. It was just the two of us, out to explore the city.

“Don’t be so stressy-depressy. We’re going on an adventure.” She raised an eyebrow. “Are you a Hobbit?” I laughed. “What?” “Do we have an all-powerful ring that must be thrown into a mountain?” “Unfortunately for both of us, this is Chicago and not Middle Earth,” I said as I tugged her around a corner. “But mark my words, adventures will be had.”

“Are we—” Annie looked around. “Is this the Skydeck?” I slung my arm around her shoulder. “Yep. Since we don’t have time to see the sights, I figured this way you could see them all at once.” Her expression softened. “Miles…” I pulled her into my side. “It’s not a photo-op. There’s no wig involved. And it’s the closest I could get to taking you out on a date with how crammed Ophelia made your schedule. I was tempted to start deleting things out of your calendar.”

“Just breathe. You’re safe. Look at the horizon. You can see four states from here. How cool is that?” Annie’s hand was cold and clammy in mine. I scooted behind her and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her protectively against my chest. “Breathe with me.” After a few seconds of deep breaths, she seemed to relax. Annie opened her eyes and took it all in. The view as we hovered over the heart of the Windy City was incredible, but so was she.