Leaning Into the Look (Leaning Into Series Book 6) by Lane Hayes

Author:Lane Hayes [Hayes, Lane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lane Hayes
Published: 2018-03-20T16:00:00+00:00

My palms were damp when I parked my Audi in my garage later that evening. I thought about calling or texting Miles to be sure he got in okay and maybe ask if he needed assistance, but I wanted to give him space. He wasn’t my boyfriend, and this wasn’t a new relationship. Which left me with the gnawing realization that I didn’t know what I’d set into motion. I could tell myself I was ready for boas, kinky superhero socks, or whatever accessories he brought with him, but truthfully, I wasn’t sure I was ready for Miles. I swiped my hands on my jeans as I stepped out of the car then took a deep breath and pushed open the door leading into the house.

I expected loud techno dance music or one of his favorite divas to greet me when I climbed the stairs to the main living area. But it was quiet. Too quiet. I went perfectly still for a moment, hoping to figure out his whereabouts without yelling his name. Maybe he was on the phone or had a friend over. Or a lover.

Oh, fuck.

We hadn’t spelled out the rules about having anyone else over. Or had we? I didn’t really want to be the one to broach the subject, but it seemed kind of important. I made my way through the darkened great room to the hallway and stopped in my tracks. Light streamed through the second doorway on the right, sending a perfect triangular shape across the hardwood floor.

“Miles?”

Nothing. I listened carefully for footsteps before moving toward the guest room. The door was ajar but I didn’t want to invade his privacy so I knocked, called his name again, and then peeked inside.

Holy crap.

It looked like a bomb had gone off. There were clothes everywhere. On the bed, the floor, the desk, and piled high on the chair in the corner. And shoes…so many shoes. Shiny loafers, short leather boots, tennis shoes, slippers, flip-flops. It was the type of couture chaos that brought to mind backstage mayhem in a dressing room before a fashion show. I moved into the room unthinking and ran my fingers along the seam of a bright orange silk shirt. I studied the floral pattern then let my gaze drift over the sea of colorful garments.

Miles had great taste. I’d give him that. Every item was designer quality and no doubt, designer-label pricey. The brilliant hues intrigued me. I hadn’t spent a ton of time with him, but I’d only seen him wear neutral shades. His wacky socks and ties were the only flashy things I’d associated with Miles until he pulled that pink boa from his bag last week. There seemed to be a whole other side of him I knew nothing about. Very interesting.

I reached for an electric blue T-shirt with Japanese script on the front when a loud bang echoed from the adjoining bathroom. I dropped the tee and turned toward the sound just as Miles sashayed into

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