Desperately Seeking Landlord Read online

  He holds his body above mine, his arms taut, and I barely have to knock into him to roll him over and onto the mattress.

  I sit up on my knees and lean over his body.

  “Oh, fuuuuuck,” he moans lowly, as I take him in my mouth. “God, your mouth.” He gathers my hair out of the way and watches me suck his cock.

  His eyes flutter closed and he crosses an arm over his face, muttering, “You’ll be the death of me.”

  It isn’t long before he’s pushing me off of him. “Need to be in you,” he murmurs, his hazel eyes nearly black.

  I stretch my arms above my head and his eyes follow my movements and the way my breasts sway.

  “You’re way too fucking gorgeous for me.” He looks at me possessively. I’ve never had any guy look at me with such reverence.

  He grabs the base of his cock and pushes into me slowly. Both of us watch him disappear inside me, letting out twin moans.

  When he’s all the way in, he just rests there, not moving. My fingers dig into his back, wanting him to fuck me like he always does, but knowing we both need this moment.

  His eyes close briefly and when they open there’s something in them I can’t interpret.

  “Slow,” he says, and I think it’s more for his benefit than mine.

  He pulls back just a little before pushing back into me. I moan, my fingers moving down his body to grab his ass, urging him into me fully.

  He kisses me deeply, rocking his hips in and out of me.

  I whimper from the pleasure of it.

  “You have no fucking idea how good you feel wrapped around my cock,” he murmurs into the skin of my neck.

  He peppers kisses all over my body while he makes love to me. I feel absolutely worshipped. Tears burn the back of my eyes because sex has never felt like this before. This beautiful and all-encompassing. I didn’t know it was possible to feel something like this, let alone with Jamie of all people.

  I place my hand on his stubbled cheek, our eyes locked.

  “Oh, God, Jamie,” I cry out with my orgasm. “Jamie, yes.”

  He growls and a moment later his own orgasm hits him.

  Neither of us moves for a moment and then he pulls out. We lay together, his arms wrapped around my body. His lips press against my shoulder and I feel the annoying sting of tears again.

  Because I think I might be falling in love with Jamie Fucking Miller.

  Not cool, feelings. Not cool at all.

  16

  Miranda

  “I’ve decided post-sex Popeye’s is my new favorite thing in the world,” I announce, stuffing my face with a bite of mashed potatoes.

  Jamie chuckles, dipping a chicken finger in sauce.

  Big, bad, Jamie eats chicken tenders.

  I like him even more.

  After we left the airport, both of us were starving, and since it was after noon, we knew food was a must. I have no idea how we ended up on the complete opposite side of town, eating Popeye’s out of his fancy car, but I don’t mind one bit.

  “Are you going to yell at me if I get butter in here?” I ask, holding up a packet of butter.

  He brushes his hands off on a napkin. “No,” he says around a mouthful. “If you only knew half of the stuff Tobias has spilled in here you’d be horrified. I had to have the car detailed a couple months ago because he got slime in the back seat. Slime.”

  “Where did he get slime?”

  “My mom,” he laughs, and I can see the love he has for her and his son in his eyes. “Apparently he watched a YouTube video and wanted to make it, so they did, and it ended up in my car.”

  “Well, butter it is then.” I put some on a biscuit and take a bite.

  “What did you think?” he asks after it’s quiet for a moment.

  I quirk a brow. “Of the sex?”

  He shakes his head. “No, of flying?”

  “Oh.” I bite my lip, not wanting to admit that I actually enjoyed it. “It was okay, I guess.” I try, but fail, to sound believable.

  He reaches over and grabs a strand of my hair, tugging on it lightly so I’ll lean into him. “Liar.”

  “I don’t lie.”

  My nose crinkles.

  “Aha,” he cries, snapping a finger and pointing at my treacherous nose. “You are lying.”

  I grab the end of my nose. “How do you know my tell?” My tone is defensive. I’ve always had this really bad habit of wiggling my nose when I lie. Most people are unaware of it, but of course Jamie would pick up on it.

  He releases my hair and tugs my hand away from my nose. “Because, I notice things about you.”

  My heart stretches and yearns, begging for me to let it reach across and gather Jamie into its embrace.

  I’m scared, though. I don’t understand why I’m so fearful of having my heart broken. It’s not like I had some great love at one time in my young life that went sour. I’ve never had the kind of love I read about in books. It’s always been bad Tinder dates and even worse hookups. One guy I didn’t even go on a date with still haunts me to this day because he slid into my DM’s telling me how he’s the pussy whisperer because he has eight cats.

  I contemplated calling animal services, because that shit ain’t right.

  But here’s Jamie, a man twelve years older than me.

  With a son.

  A fancy house and car.

  A mother-fucking plane that doesn’t even have snakes.

  And he makes me feel things I didn’t believe were possible.

  “Now,” he begins again, “did you like it, sweetheart?”

  That word. It should grate on my nerves, not fill my belly with butterflies.

  I nod, there’s no point in lying.

  “Words, Miranda. With words.”

  I lean into him until the console is the only thing separating us.

  “It.” His eyes follow my lips. “Was.” His tongue flicks out. “Just.” A muscle in his jaw ticks. “Okay.”

  His fingers thread in my hair until we’re nose to nose. “I love when you fight me. It makes victory all the sweeter.” He skims his lips against my neck and his teeth lightly bite my flesh. I’m thankful his car has such tinted windows or we’d be giving anyone driving by or sitting in the fast food restaurant quite the show. We’re not even doing anything scandalous, but it looks that way. “Tell me the truth,” he hums.

  “Never.”

  I feel his smile against my skin.

  And then he does something I least expect.

  The bastard tickles me.

  “Jamie!” I shriek, trying to get away from him. Food falls from my lap as I try to get away, laughing all the while. “Stop, please, stop.”

  “Are you going to keep lying to me?”

  “Me? Lie? Never. Jamie, please.” I push at his hands, laughing hysterically. I’m trapped with nowhere to go.

  “I want the truth this time,” he warns playfully and finally his onslaught ends.

  “Never,” I say in a serious tone, lifting a finger, “tickle me ever again.”

  He holds his hands up in surrender. “I can’t promise that.” I glare. “But I do promise to only use this against you in the most serious of situations.”

  I snort. “Because my opinion on aviation is a serious matter.”

  “It definitely is.” He grins. “Now, come on. I want your real opinion.” His smile disappears slowly. “Am I wrong? Did you actually hate it?”

  I shake my head, biting my lip. “It was amazing. Truly. Thank you for sharing that with me. It means more than you can possibly know that you showed me something you love, and I might’ve been scared to death at first, but I’m so happy to have that experience with you.” I squeeze his hand. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I actually wouldn’t mind doing that again.”

  This time it’s his turn to joke. “The flying or the sex.”

  “Both,” I admit.

  “You really think you’d do it again?”

  I pretend to think for a moment. “I
mean, I did do you again, and again, and again, and plenty of other times, so I think I might be open to the idea of flying more.”

  “Always a smart ass.”

  I shrug, bending to pick up the mess. He’s going to have to pay for another detailing, but it’s not my fault he tickled me. That’s all on him.

  He looks at his watch and lets out a sigh. “I better get you home.”

  I look at him sadly, and that’s something I never thought would happen, but I am unhappy about this day ending. It’s been nice seeing this side of him and spending hours together having actual conversation … and a little sex, I mean, come on we can’t help ourselves.

  “Yeah, I need to meal prep for the week.”

  “You meal prep?” He starts putting empty boxes into the bags.

  “I’m a college student, I don’t have time in the week to make meals. If I do it on the weekends, then I don’t eat like shit during the week.”

  “Thank God I have my mom to cook or it’d be takeout every night.”

  He slips out of the car and throws away the trash.

  “I really did have fun today,” he tells me. “I’m glad you trusted me enough to get on the plane.”

  “That was not trust, buddy.” I wag my finger at him.

  “Then what was it?” A smirk twists his lips.

  “I … don’t know,” I admit.

  His smirk widens and he buckles his seatbelt before reversing out of the parking lot.

  All too soon he’s parking in front of my building.

  “What are you doing?” I blurt when he unbuckles his seatbelt.

  He looks at me like I’m the crazy one—which, to be frank, is true.

  “Walking you to your door. I’ve heard that’s what a proper gentleman.”

  “A proper gentleman probably doesn’t fuck a girl twelve years younger than him on his company jet. Wait, does this mean I can say I’ve joined the mile high club?”

  He shakes his head at my antics. “First off, what we did today wasn’t fucking. Get it right, sweetheart. I made love to you,” he growls lowly, and I think he’s genuinely offended I called it fucking. “And to join the mile high club the plane has to be in the air.”

  “If I give you a blowjob in the two-seater does that count?”

  He chokes, turning it into a cough. “Um, no, and while that sounds fun it’d be extremely dangerous, so don’t even think about trying it.”

  I mock pout. “Way to ruin all my fun.”

  He leans against the headrest. “You’ll be the death of me, woman.”

  I grin. “That’s the plan.”

  Grabbing my bag, I shrug it on and exit the car. As promised, he follows me to my door, kisses my cheek, and waits until I’m safely inside.

  I rest my back against the closed door, sliding my butt all the way to the floor with the giddiest smile on my face.

  I think I might be happier than I’ve ever been, and it’s all because of Jamie Fucking Miller. Who would’ve thought?

  17

  Miranda

  It’s the middle of the week and I should be sleeping since I have classes early tomorrow. But I can’t, because there’s a ghost in my apartment.

  Either a ghost or a raccoon.

  But I’m pretty sure it’s a ghost haunting my bathroom. I’ve been in and out of there multiple times, trying to deduce what it is and I’m coming up empty. Therefore, a ghost seems like the most logical explanation.

  I roll over and look at the clock, finding it to be a little after one in the morning.

  I have to be up at six and I haven’t slept one solid minute yet despite trying.

  With a dramatic sigh, I swipe my phone off the bedside table and bring up Lou’s contact, complete with a pink Starburst photo, and ring her.

  The phone rings and rings, finally her disgusted, “This better be important,” comes over the line.

  “There’s a ghost in my apartment,” I whisper in case ghosts can hear. I mean, they can, right? That’s why all these ghost hunters are always talking to them on TV?

  “You have to be fucking kidding me. I’m going back to sleep.”

  “Wait!” I cry. “There really is something in here. A raccoon or mouse or something. I can hear it moving around in the ceiling of the bathroom. Can you ask Abel to come over?”

  “Miranda,” she sighs, and I know she’s shaking her head at me.

  “Or it could be a bat,” I ramble, “what if it flies out and bites me? I don’t want to be a vampire.”

  “But it’s okay if Abel gets bitten?”

  “He’d be an attractive vampire,” I reason.

  “He has to be up at four in order to be at work at five. I really don’t want to wake him.”

  “Right,” I deflate. “It’s fine.”

  “Why don’t you call Jamie?”

  “Jamie? Why Jamie?” My voice squeaks, because I haven’t told Lou about our kinda-sorta date or how we’re not quite a couple but are something more.

  “Uh … because he’s your landlord. If you can’t sleep, see if he’ll come over.”

  I bite my lip. She has a point, but I don’t want to disturb him. Waking up Lou is a different story since she’s my best friend and it’s written in the blood contract that all besties must be prepared for late night or early morning phone calls.

  “Fine, I’ll call him,” I grumble, sitting up and pushing my unruly hair out of my face. “I’m not happy about it, but I’ll do it.”

  She gives me a small laugh. “Just make me a promise?”

  “What?” I hesitate, a bit scared to agree.

  “You tell him about the ghost theory.”

  “I hate you.”

  “Love, you love me.”

  “Mhmm, bye. Go back to sleep.”

  I hang up and call Jamie. “Hello?” he asks after barely two rings, sounding way too awake for the early hour.

  “Um … hi … it’s me … Miranda.”

  His soft chuckle is intoxicating. “Yeah, I know. Caller ID comes in handy these days.”

  “Oh, right.”

  “To what do I owe the pleasure of this late night call?”

  “This isn’t a booty call if that’s what you think it is.”

  He chuckles. “Didn’t think it was.”

  “Anyway, there’s a ghost in my bathroom. I need you to extinguish it Ghostbusters style.”

  He clucks his tongue. “Sorry, my proton pack is charging.”

  “Don’t laugh at me,” I whine. “There really is something in my bathroom ceiling. It’s making a lot of noise and I don’t know what it is. Ghost, raccoon, bat, doesn’t matter because I can’t sleep. I need to be up for class in a couple of hours.”

  “I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

  “Really?” I brighten. Some sleep will be better than no sleep at the rate I’m going. Besides, now I’m really curious about what is in the ceiling because my brain is conjuring all kinds of disturbing ideas. Like a trapped Furby reawakened by the demented Furby gods. I begged for one of those stupid things for Christmas one year, and then promptly threw the thing in my closet to never be seen again, though occasionally heard from when it would speak from the depths.

  Oh my God, it totally is a Furby. The previous renter must’ve hidden one up there to torment me.

  That makes no logical sense considering they wouldn’t have known me, but my brain likes to go on tangents.

  Throwing my covers off, I pull a sweatshirt on to try to mask the fact I’m braless. Jamie might’ve seen me naked numerous times, but I still don’t feel comfortable letting my girls flop around all willy-nilly.

  Padding into my kitchen I pour myself some water and sip at it, trying to ignore the screeching and scratching coming from the bathroom.

  Whatever is in there wants out now.

  Maybe my ceiling is giving birth to a demon.

  What if it’s the portal to the Underworld?

  Hmm, that might not be too bad. I’ve always thought there was something und
eniably sexy about Hades. Clearly I have a bad boy complex.

  After enough minutes for me to completely freak myself out there’s a soft knock on the door.

  As my landlord, he has a key, but I appreciate that he waits for me to answer.

  God knows he rarely extends the same courtesy to Lou and Abel.

  I swing the door open and my jaw drops.

  If I thought Jamie in jeans and a t-shirt was sexy, that version has nothing on gray sweat shorts Jamie with an old faded college shirt and tool basket in hand.

  I think my ovaries just sat up and sang a song in his honor.

  I step out of his way and he joins me inside.

  “Where’s the ghost?” His stupid crooked grin sends my insides spinning.

  “It decided to leave and left a demonic troll in its stead.” Pushing his shoulder lightly I usher him down the hall to the bathroom. “It’s somewhere up there.” I point at the ceiling. It makes a noise and I shriek, grabbing onto the back of his shirt. “Save me,” I beg him.

  He sighs and sets down his bag of tools. “You’re going to have to let me go if you expect me to save you.”

  “Oh, right.” I let go of his shirt, leaving wrinkles in the shape of my fists.

  There’s a howl from above us and some scratching.

  “Demon!” I scream and point. “There’s a demon up there!”

  Jamie slaps a hand over my mouth. “Shh, you’re going to wake up your neighbors.”

  I stop screaming and he lets go of me. “Why don’t you wait in your living room?”

  I shake my head. “I can’t let it eat you.”

  He looks me up and down. “Yes, you’re very ferocious. I’m sure whatever is up there will be positively terrified.”

  I pout, sticking my hands on my hips. “I can be very scary.”

  He snorts. “Yeah, that’s why you took care of it and I’m not needed here.”

  I glare. “If I could smite you, I would.”

  “Smite? Are you from the medieval times?”

  “No, I’ve never actually been there,” I quip, hands still perched on my hips.

  “Not what I meant.”

  “I know,” I say with a smile as he bends over to grab some sort of saw looking tool. I’m too busy looking at his ass to care what it actually is.