Blood is quickly fleeing my brain. Her hands on my skin do nothing to help the situation.
We're teasing. God knows, I love teasing her. "You don't find me charming?"
"You are charming." She smiles. "You're charming, and you're at my mercy."
"I'll rip off your clothes right here."
"Not in front of your uncle!"
"In the car."
"Let me see yours again." She tugs at my t-shirt.
I pull the garment low enough that she can see every tattoo on my chest. Her fingers go to her name—Megara—in thick black letters, then they're on the quote on my other pec. Be Brave, Live.
"People are going to think you're the world's biggest Sinful Serenade fan," I tease.
"I am." She looks up at me. "There's no one in the world who appreciates your mouth more than I do."
Damn, she's reveling in having the upper hand. Can't complain. She looks just as adorable drunk with power as she does blushing.
This is going to be a miserable drive. But it will be worth it. My place is forty minutes without traffic. Drew and Kara's place is closer. Twenty minutes. But it's only useful if they're out.
Damn, it's hard to concentrate with all my blood rushing to my cock. I could swear Drew said something about flying straight to San Francisco to visit with her family. But maybe that was Pete flying to New York to see Jess's family.
Meg laughs with glee. "You're at my mercy."
I stare into her brown eyes. "Was it the marriage proposal that gave it away?"
She bites her lip. "That helped."
Okay. Need enough blood in my brain to think of where I'm going to rip off her panties.
I take her hand and change the subject. "You get that ink by yourself?"
She smiles. "You won't believe me."
"Try me."
"Mom came with me."
"Susan went with you?"
"You have to call her Mom if we're getting married. She'll die of happiness. She adores you. She thinks you're a gentleman." Meg bites her lip. Her eyes bore into mine. "Do you like it?"
"I fucking love it." I plant a hard kiss on her lips. I'm tempted to pin her to the car right here. I need to show her how much I love the tattoo. How much I love every inch of her. "Now get in the car so I can have my way with you."
***
Three minutes on the road, and I give up on getting to a house. Any house.
I need Meg naked immediately. I need her screaming my name as she comes.
I pull into the nearest hotel. It's a budget chain. Not as high class as the night of our engagement deserves, but I can't say I give a fuck about the setting at the moment.
Meg clears her throat. She's attempting confident and aloof, but with the way she's pressing her knees together and biting her lip, I know she's as desperate as I am.
Fuck, I bet she's wet.
She's always fucking wet.
It takes much too long to check in. Meg perks up as we take the stairs to our room. Her hand slides under my leather jacket then under my t-shirt.
Damn, I love the way her hand feels against my skin.
I unlock the door and push it open. Might as well make a gesture. I scoop her into my arms and carry her over the threshold.
She laughs with glee. "Miles! If you break my back, I'm not marrying you."
"Fair enough." I kick the door closed and set her on the bed.
"You know I'm keeping my name," she says.
I smile. "You know I'm about to rip off your jeans and panties and lick you until you're screaming my name."
Her lips part with a sigh of pleasure. She still attempts to stay in control. "I did know that."
"Good. Unbutton your jeans." I sit between her legs and take off her socks and shoes.
She relaxes into the bed, squeezing her toes and arching her back.
Fuck, I almost forgot how responsive she is. It's been a while, but there's no excuse for forgetting anything about the woman I love.
I roll her jeans to her knees. "You should keep your name."
"Really?"
"Yeah. It will mean the world to your mom."
"Oh." She shifts her legs to help me. "Carry on then."
"Take off the top and the bra."
She does. I pull her jeans to her ankles.
I soak in the sight of her body—her long legs, the gentle curves of her hips, waist, and chest. She thinks she's too gawky, too flat-chested, but every inch of her is perfect.
Especially those breasts. They're a perfect handful and they're responsive as hell.
It's still there.
Be Brave, Love.
I can't wait any longer. I pin her to the bed. My hips sink into hers. She squirms, arching her back and rubbing her crotch against mine.
"Too many clothes," she murmurs.
"Fair." I pull my t-shirt over my head and toss it aside.
I kiss her hard. I never got jazzed about kissing before. But with her, I crave the intimacy of her lips against mine.
She groans into my mouth as she squirms. My focus shifts lower. My cock will get what it wants soon.
First, my mouth gets what it wants.
I kiss my way down her neck. Then I'm at her chest. I take one of her nipples into my mouth and suck gently.
"Miles," she groans. Her hands go to my hair. She tugs at it as she rocks her hips against me. "Stop teasing. It's been twenty-nine days."
I suck harder until her groans get low and desperate. When I'm convinced she can't take it anymore, I do the same to her other nipple.
My hand slides down her torso. It finds her panties and pushes them aside.
I place my palm against her.
Fuck. She's wet.
I trace the lines of her tattoo with my tongue then kiss my way down her stomach.
She squirms with anticipation. Her sighs get louder. Her hands go the comforter. She squeezes it so tightly her knuckles go white.
"Miles," she breathes. "Please."
The need in her voice sends the last available hint of blood to my cock.
I pull her panties to her feet. Under normal circumstances, I'd tease her a little longer. Right now, I need her taste on my tongue and her moans in my ears.
I press my lips against her inner thigh. She gasps, her back arching.
I kiss my way up her thigh.
She smells fucking good. I pin her legs to the bed. She sighs, impatient and needy.
She's exactly where I want her.
Slowly, I slide my tongue over her clit. She tastes like home. And she's already filling the room with her groans, already digging her fingers into the back of my head, already bucking against my lips.
Fuck, I love being between her legs. Best place in the whole fucking world.
I lick her up and down, taking my time tasting and teasing every inch.
Her knees fight my hands. Her hips buck. Her groans fill the room.
My fingers dig into her soft skin as I make my way back to her clit. I play with my speed and pressure until her thighs are shaking with pleasure.
I hold her in place so I can work my magic. She bucks against me, moving her cunt against my lips like I'm her personal sex toy. She tugs at my hair as she groans my name again and again.
My tongue works harder, faster. I lick her until her knees are pressed against my ears. Until she's screaming my name.
There.
Her hands dig into my shoulders as she comes. She shakes, all the muscles in her body tensing. Then everything goes slack. Her legs fall open. Her back relaxes as she collapses into the bed. One arm falls at her side. The other stays on me.
Her touch is soft as she drags her fingertips to the back of my neck.
She looks down at me with pleading eyes.
She doesn't have to ask. I need to be inside her. I need her soft folds enveloping my cock.
I shimmy out of my jeans and boxers and reposition our bodies so I'm on top of her.
She tattooed her body for me.
&nbs
p; She's going to be my wife.
The intimacy of it overwhelms me.
My hands go to her hips. I pull her body onto mine. My cock strains against her cunt. Already, she feels fucking good.
I need to watch the pleasure spread over her expression as I fill her.
I need our eyes locked as our bodies join.
For a moment, I take in the gorgeous mix of desire and satisfaction in her expression. Her cheeks are flushed. Her lips are pursed.
Her hands slide around my neck. They settle on the back of my head. She pulls me into a deep kiss. Need and affection pour from her lips to mine.
I dig my fingertips into her hips as I slide inside her. One delicious inch at a time, I fill her.
Damn, she feels good. Wet, warm, silky smooth.
I lower my body onto hers, pulling her closer as I thrust deeper. Meg keeps her hands pressed against the back of my head. She pulls me into another kiss. It's still deep. Still hungry.
Thoughts slip away. I'm only aware of the sensations in my body. Her soft lips. Her aggressive tongue. Her hips shifting to push me deeper.
My body takes over. It needs more. Needs harder. Needs every inch of her.
She rocks her hips as I thrust into her. We're working together to bring our bodies closer. To bring each other to orgasm.
"Mhmm," I groan. My nails dig into her skin.
She breaks free of our kiss to groan. Her eyes fix on mine for a moment then her lids press together.
Her lips part with a sigh. She's almost there. I know how to get her there.
I guide her hips so I can drive deeper. She moans.
Then it's her hands on my chest. Her nails digging into my skin. Her hips arching.
She groans. "Miles."
Her thighs squeeze against my hips.
And she's there. Her cunt pulses around my cock, pulling me closer, inviting me deeper.
I shift my hips to drive into her.
Fuck. She feels good.
My lips go to her neck. Her shoulder. I sink my teeth into her skin as an orgasm takes over.
With my next thrust, I come. She groans. One hand goes to my ass, holding me close as I fill her.
I linger inside her for a moment. Then I shift onto my side and pull her body into mine.
"Promise we'll never be apart that long again," she murmurs.
"I can't promise that." I pull her closer. "But I will do whatever it takes to make this work."
Chapter Three
Megara
Lying in a hotel room with Miles is nearly as familiar as cuddling on his couch. How many nights have we spent pressed together in a hotel bed?
At the moment, I'm too tired to do the math. I nestle into his chest and let the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lull me to sleep.
When I wake, the sun is setting and Miles is sitting in the armchair in the corner with a paperback in his hands. A Star Wars novel. One that came out two days ago.
"Don't spoil it," I plead.
He smiles, that smile that means Meg, you're adorable. "I couldn't." He pats his lap. "Wanted to get Nobu for dinner, but traffic will be insane."
"We're on Sepulveda. Traffic to anywhere will be insane."
Miles is wearing only boxers. I'm still wearing nothing. I slide into his lap, reveling in the sensation of our skin connecting.
He's here. I'm here.
It's overwhelming how much I need his body next to mine.
I press my forehead into his. "You leave in two weeks."
"Then you come with me for two weeks."
I like that part. Not as much what comes after. "Then four months on the road?"
"Two months, two weeks off, another two months on."
"Just a U.S. tour this time?"
He looks up at me with those clear blue eyes. His fingers curl over my chest, tracing the lines of my tattoo. "Be Brave, Love."
I nod.
"What is it you're thinking?"
I bite my lip. I don't like the direction my thoughts are heading, but I don't want to run from them. "You're on the road the next five months. I'll be finishing my first year of medical school. When are we going to find the time to plan a wedding? To even have a wedding?"
"What if we do it in Vegas?" He stares at me, his eyes as deep with affection as the ocean. "We can leave tonight and get married first thing tomorrow."
"Just us?"
"Your parents will want to see it."
I nod. "Our friends will want to see it. And I want them there."
"Even Tom?"
"Especially Tom."
"Thought you hated him."
"I did for a while." I run my fingers through his hair. "But I know he meant well telling me to get lost. He'd never admit it, but he loves you. And I know he'll kick your ass if you start using again."
"You think Tom could kick my ass?"
"If you were high, you wouldn't see it coming."
He laughs and presses his lips to mine.
Damn, his kiss is intoxicating. I don't collect my senses until it breaks.
"You still worry about me relapsing?" he asks.
I nod. Miles has done well for years, but there's no way I'll ever stop worrying about him relapsing. I still have nightmares about Rosie's overdose.
I nod. "Yes. I trust you, but—"
"I know. It's okay to worry, Princess. I worry about you burying yourself under the weight of your coursework."
A fair concern. I stare into his blue eyes. "Is it a good idea, you going to Las Vegas?"
His expression softens. "As long as you aren't planning a runaway bride move."
I trace the lines of his tattoo. Be brave, live. I'm braver with him. I live more when I'm with him. I have no doubt I want to marry Miles, no doubt I want to be with him forever.
But I'm not as sure about planning a wedding in under two weeks.
"I've been thinking." He runs his fingertips over my shoulder. "What if we toured during the summer and kept it short the rest of the year? You could come with me."
That would be amazing. I look into his eyes. "Could you really make that work?"
"It's possible." He runs his fingertips over my chin. "The band can slow down. We've talked about it."
"There's no way Tom has talked about slowing down."
"He has a wife now." His voice softens. "Things are different than when we started. Our priorities are different."
I shake my head. "You need the stage, Miles. You're at home there."
"Yeah, but I'm at home with you too. I'll still have the stage, just less of it and more time with you. Wouldn't you want that?"
"Of course." I'd love to have Miles around more. I'd love to have him home every night. But not if it means he's giving up his passion. "I can't be the thing standing between you and your dreams."
"You aren't." He presses his lips to mine. His fingers go to my engagement ring. "Let's go to Vegas. Let's get married now."
"Why?"
"Because you want to marry me."
"But why now? Why not in a year?"
"Why in a year?"
As Miles would say, fair enough. Why not now? Why in a year?
"You like depraved rock stars," he says.
I smile. "I do."
"See, you're already halfway there."
I laugh. I want to be there. I want to throw away all my concerns.
"I think you want a depraved rock star husband right away."
He's right. I do. I want forever with Miles, and I want it right away. Why not now?
Now is good.
I press my fingertips into the spot where his neck meets his collarbone.
He shudders with pleasure. His hands go to my lower back. He pulls me closer.
"Promise you won't think about quitting Sinful Serenade." I muster all the confidence I have. "Promise, and I'll go to Vegas with you and get married now."
"Then no question." He leans closer. "I promise."
***
The next morning, we call my parents
over breakfast—they're surprised but supportive—and drive straight to Vegas.
The city is breathtaking in a strange, money-worshiping, party-worshiping kind of way. Even in the afternoon, the neon lights stand out against the blue sky. One side of the freeway is miles of desert. The other is an oasis of depraved, adult fun.
There's no specific theme to our hotel. It seems the concept is luxury. Our suite is adorned in shades of mauve and silver. It's sleek, modern, and a little showy.
Miles sits on the bed, his legs spread. It's inviting. I want to mount my husband-to-be.
Damn, this is moving fast.
I linger in the thought of Miles as my husband—a long honeymoon on the beach, us buying a house so we can really live together, him surprising me at school, me surprising him for a weekend on tour.
We'll have a good life together.
There are obstacles, but we'll figure them out, one at a time.
He pushes himself to his feet and stretches his arms overhead. Then his eyes are on mine, this look that says let's go. "Ready to start looking at venues?"
No. But I want to marry him, and there isn't much time for everything.
I nod. "Ready as I'll ever be."
***
Our first stop is a drive-through chapel. For a mere two hundred dollars, we can get married in a drive-through. It's only an extra hundred dollars to have Elvis officiate the ceremony.
I watch in horror as another couple ties the knot. They're sitting on the top of a bright red convertible. Her dress and lipstick are the exact red of the car. He's in a sports jacket and jeans.
When the officiant says I do, they lean in for a sloppy, drunken kiss.
My stomach twists.
This is all wrong.
"It's different," Miles says.
I shake my head. My lips barely part for my objection. "No way in hell."
"My old favorite song." He runs his fingertips over my t-shirt, tracing the spot where my new tattoo is. "I have a new favorite."
"No, Miles. I'm not getting married in a drive-through."
"You want something classier?"
"Is there something less classy?"
He laughs. "Fair point."
I take a deep breath. The sun is bright in the sky. We're near the Stratosphere tower. I'm sure they do weddings at the top, but that isn't right either.
I don't want a church wedding.
Sinful Ever After (Sinful Serenade #5) Page 2
