Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
I shook my head. Already, I could tell I didn’t want to be apart from Miles. Too much had happened today. I couldn’t let my thoughts keep swirling, and being around Miles helped with that.
“Where are your towels and bleach?” I asked. The panic had subsided. I didn’t want to give it the mental space to return. “I’m down to help. It’ll keep my mind busy.”
“With the wrong things. Go.” His tone deepened. I knew he was trying to protect me but I wasn’t going to back down on this. I didn’t mind bumping heads with him.
“Towels and bleach. And maybe some Febreze and a candle. And a bottle of vodka.”
He stood silent for a moment before his lip twitched into a smile. “Towels and bleach are in the laundry room right over there, same as the Febreze and candles. No vodka, but I do have tequila.”
“Even better. Tequila first, cleaning after, then shower and sleep. Please.”
“Yes. Please.”
We threw back our double shots of tequila before I helped gather up the cleaning supplies. Miles delicately put the dove in a ziplock bag and placed it inside his freezer. Hunter would likely want to examine it. Next, we preserved the note as well in another ziplock, setting it inside the bottom drawer of the dresser in his bedroom. When that was done, we got to work cleaning up the blood, scrubbing it off the floor, rug, and walls, taking extra care with the wallpaper. Hydrogen peroxide worked well to remove it without damaging the wallpaper, which was good because I didn’t want any remnants of this night on his walls.
It took us over an hour to remove the bloody scent. By then, exhaustion was nut-checking us both. Yawns bounced between us as we dumped the bloody towels into the trash and took them outside. I stayed a moment longer with Miles at my side, both of us checking for any signs of an intruder. It only smelled like the pizza we had delivered a little bit ago, the box still sitting at the front door.
Neither of us were hungry, so we brought the pizza in and popped it in the fridge. I then followed a quiet and tired Miles to the bathroom. We undressed and got into the hot shower together. It was a large and modern shower with a rainfall showerhead. I stood under the water and let the stress of the day wash down the drain, watching the red-tinged water swirl.
Anxiety began to crawl its way back up my spine, threatening to clamp its jaws around my lungs. I took a deep breath and focused on Miles as he soaped himself up. He must have seen something on my face because he stopped and brought the soapy loofah to my chest. He scrubbed in soft circles, moving downward. He cleaned my arms, my hands. He scrubbed the front of my legs. Washed off a dried spot of blood, water splashing off his body.
It was intimate and gentle. It, once again, made me feel safer than I’d ever felt. The threat meant nothing to me in this moment as Miles cleaned me off.
I turned around for him. He was just as gentle with my back. Scrubbing in the same motion. The soap smelled like the beach, coconut and ocean waves. Clean. Fresh.
Safe.
When he finished washing me, I took the loofah from him, added some more soap, and returned the favor. Neither of us spoke. Too much had happened, and not a single word was needed. We both understood how deep the exhaustion ran inside of us. I was also more than happy to stand with nothing but the sound of water splashing against us and the tiles beneath my feet. It was relaxing. It was comforting.
I continued to wash him, taking my time. Holding him at certain points. Although it wasn’t overly sexual, we still both were clearly excited, neither of us trying to hide it. I held him with my stiff cock pressed up against his ass, with my chin on his shoulder. Neither of us initiated anything further than that.
We simply enjoyed this type of touch. This sense of closeness and intimacy. I didn’t need more. I knew I’d get more and I would gladly give him more in return—but for now, this was all I needed.
Miles was all I needed.
We stayed in the shower for what felt like close to an hour. The security alarm had been set and Miles had his phone propped up and in view through the glass shower door. We’d know if someone came back to survey the aftermath of their chaos.
No one did. I sank back into the sanctuary that Miles and his home had provided for me tonight. I didn’t think this kind of feeling was possible. I’d felt it before, when I was a kid, when my home hadn’t been split in half and my family torn along with it. Since then, I had lost any kind of semblance of “sanctuary” in my life. With hockey, I was often moving or traveling from hotel room to hotel room. And even through all those samplings of different spaces, I never felt as comfortable as I did with Miles.