Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Ian was so distracted by the sight that it took his brain a few seconds to catch up. When he did, his eyes snapped up to Miles’s nape.
“You did what?” he said, even though he’d heard it perfectly the first time. His voice sounded distant, as if it didn’t belong to him. He didn’t know why he felt like he’d just been punched in the gut. He had known this was coming ever since Miles had told him, I think I’m going to miss you when I go home.
He had known Miles would leave.
He still found himself completely unprepared for the reality of it, his heart pounding and his hands shaking with adrenaline.
Ian sat up and zipped up his fly, his gaze on Miles’s back as the younger man continued dressing.
“I bought a ticket to London,” Miles said evenly. “My flight is the day after tomorrow.”
Ian stared at him.
Then he stood and put his shirt on. “And when were you going to tell me that?”
Miles turned around and gave him a steady look. “I’m telling you now.”
Ian had to actually bite his tongue to stop himself from saying what he shouldn’t. There were a number of things he wanted to say. Things that would no doubt make him sound messed-up, controlling, or deranged. Or all of the above.
Grimacing inwardly, Ian bit out, “I’m going for a walk.”
He strode out of the room before he could say anything he would regret. Control. He was in control. He wasn’t a fucking Neanderthal.
Once he left the house, Ian took a deep breath of fresh air. It did nothing to clear his head.
It was dark outside, but the grounds were well illuminated. He prowled the grounds like a caged beast, trying to squash down the urge to go back into the house, tie Miles to his bed, and never let him go.
Goddammit.
He clearly needed to get away from the house or he would end up being exactly what his ex-wife had accused him of: a suffocating, controlling piece of shit. He didn’t want Miles to look at him as if he was some kind of disturbing, crazy freak. He didn’t give a shit what other people thought of him, but the mere idea of Miles looking at him in disgust and fear… it turned his stomach. Miles never seemed to mind his overbearing attitude, but there was overbearing and then there was what Ian really was.
“Mr. Caldwell? You want to go somewhere? I’ll call Zane.”
Flinching, Ian looked around, realizing that his feet had brought him to the garage. A security guard was looking at him in confusion and something like wariness.
“There’s no need,” Ian told him, heading to the locker with keys. “I’ll drive myself.” Maybe a drive would clear his head.
Retrieving the key to the closest car—the Ferrari—he got into the car and pulled out of the garage. The tires screeched and he swore as he nearly hit the street lamp. Fuck, maybe it hadn’t been his best idea. He’d never been a great driver, and he was out of practice after years of having other people drive him where he wanted. His agitated state didn’t help, either.
Ian forced himself to breathe deeply, in and out, and focus entirely on the road until he could think somewhat rationally.
The truth was… The truth was, Miles could obviously leave if he wanted to. He had no reason to stay. Why would he stay here when his entire life was in the U.K.?
Ian was aware that Miles had… some kind of feelings for him, but it didn’t matter all that much when one was twenty. Miles had his entire life ahead of him. Kids Miles’s age got infatuated with someone new every few months. They didn’t abandon their lives for a summer fling.
When Ian felt a sour taste in his mouth, he realized that he had just bitten his lip hard enough to draw blood.
Fucking hell. He needed to calm down—
The screech of the brakes was his only warning before pain exploded through his body, his head slamming against the window.
Everything went dark.
Chapter 19
Miles tossed and turned in his bed for ages, unable to fall asleep. Ian’s strange reaction—or lack of reaction—bothered him more than it should have. Out of all the possible reactions, he hadn’t expected that Ian would just go for a walk.
God, it was so pathetic. Had he really hoped Ian would forbid him from leaving? Seriously?
Miles sighed into his pillow, hugging it. It really was pathetic. He couldn’t even fall asleep anymore without Ian’s body wrapped around him.
A sound made his eyes snap open.
He turned his head toward the door. He was pretty sure he could hear voices—distant, but frantic voices. Who could it possibly be? It was the middle of the night. Ian still hadn’t returned, as far as he knew.
Frowning, he slipped out of the bed and opened the door.