"I bet you're going to cancel on her."
I roll my eyes. Smug bastard. "In your dreams."
He smirks, but he doesn't say anything. By this point, we both know the extent of his dreams and how much he turned them into a reality.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
We watch all three of the original Star Wars films. Miles knows every line, and he delights in reciting it with me. Well, he delights in mocking me, too—in mocking my very obvious crush on Han Solo. What can I say? Maybe I do have a thing for scoundrels.
It's almost dawn when we go to bed, but this time Miles doesn't put me in the spare room. We sleep together on his bed, in his bedroom. It's not the biggest bed, but it feels so good to be pressed against him. His body fits perfectly with mine. I fall asleep almost instantly, and I wake up in his arms.
Miles stirs when I get out of bed. He drags me to the bathroom, and we take another shower together. It's as amazing as before. We kiss, touch, and help each other with soap and shampoo.
After, he makes me breakfast and coffee. It's like we're playing house, like we're playing pretend at being grownups in a grown up relationship. I know I'm twenty-one, and he must not be more than a few years older, but I've never really felt like an adult. This, though, being in this house alone with him—it feels real.
Miles snickers when we leave for Kara's. "You've been wearing that outfit for three days."
"So?"
"Something tells me you don't normally wear low-cut tops and short skirts to hang out with your best friend. Not that I object."
He's right. I never dress up to see Kara. At best, I wear a t-shirt and jeans. I need clean clothes, especially clean underwear. There’s no way I’m going commando to hang out with my best friend.
"So, drop me at my place. I'll change."
He shakes his head. "No, I'll take you to a boutique I know."
"I'm not a doll."
"And you won't be on display to anyone but me." He leads me to the front door. "But I'll feel awful about ripping off your panties if I didn't buy them."
"No you won't."
He smirks. "Okay, I won't. But I'm still buying you something to wear today."
"That's not necessary."
"You're not going to win this one, Meg. You should give up resisting if you don't want to be late to meet with your friend."
"I don't need an outfit. And I don't need you to buy me any kind of lingerie."
He presses his lips into my cheek. "All this time you're spending resisting. We could be spending it in the dressing room together."
"Oh." Oh.
I get in the car without any further objections.
***
The boutique is better than I could possibly imagine. Not the clothes—I couldn't possibly care less about clothes. Miles drags me into the dressing room. One hand under my skirt, one hand over my mouth, he rubs me until I can barely muffle my screams then rubs me some more. I come three times despite my fear that the sales girl will throw us out.
He broke yet another record.
I pick out a pair of jeans, a tank top, and a set of lacy black lingerie. Everything here is outrageously expensive—more than I make in a month—but he insists.
We, well, I, am right on time to Kara's place. She opens the door and takes in my outfit with curiosity.
"I've never seen that outfit before."
"It's new."
She shakes her head—not buying my version of the story. “Are you at least going to make up a lie about how you went shopping yesterday?”
“I went shopping this morning.”
“Where? It’s barely eleven.” She raises an eyebrow. “Those are expensive jeans. I know you didn’t buy them yourself.”
“Would you believe that my mom bought then last time I was home?”
“No.” She looks me straight in the eyes. “There’s really only one story I would believe, and I think we both know what that is.” Her expression hardens. “Is there some reason why you’re not talking about this?”
“I don’t want you to freak out.”
“Name one time I ever freaked out.” She moves to the kitchen and turns on her electric kettle. “English Breakfast okay?”
“That’s fine.”
I turn over my options as she fixes tea. I trust Kara more than I trust anyone. I should want to tell her about everything with Miles.
She returns to the main room with two mugs of tea. She sets one down on the side table and hands the other to me. There’s infinite patience in her eyes, like she could wait eight million years for an explanation.
I sip my tea to buy another ten seconds.
“I was with Miles,” I say.
She gasps then clears her throat as if to cover her surprise. “And what were you doing with Miles?”
“We slept together.”
“Holy shit, Megara Smart. How the fuck did you not tell me this?”
I shrug like it’s no big deal.
“Bullshit. Don’t act like you don’t give a damn. You lost your virginity to Miles. That’s huge. Is he huge?”
My cheeks burn.
“He is!” She squeals. “Let’s put the issue of your secrecy aside for a moment.” Kara leans in close, her eyes wide. “What was it like fucking him?”
“Good.”
She stares at me. “Good? You can that a detail. I want a better fucking detail!”
“Is great a better detail?”
“Technically, good is better than great.”
“You sound like an English teacher.”
“Thank you.” She taps her fingers against her jeans. “So...”
“Very, really good. He’s good at everything, and he’s more tender than you’d expect. But it’s just sex. It’s really not a big deal.”
“Not buying it, sweetie.” She shifts to the other side of the couch. “Was it only once or have you been seeing him?”
“It was only a few times.”
“And what, he picked you up last night and dropped you off here with a change of clothes?” She studies me like she’s looking for cracks.
“This is why I didn’t want to say anything.”
“What is?”
“Stop looking at me like I’m fragile. I’m not going to break because of a little casual sex.”
“Fine. I’ll let you handle it. But I want every damn detail.” She folds her arms over her chest.
“Every detail?”
“Not a blow by blow. Just tell me what’s going on. You know, like we’re best friends or something.”
“That would be something.”
“Wouldn’t it?” She throws me some serious side eye.
“Okay.” I take a deep breath, and I start at the beginning—Miles flirting on the drive home, our texts, the night we agreed to be friends with benefits. I’m vague about the sex itself and I skip over the way he made me feel exposed and picked apart. I don’t want to have feelings for Miles. And I don’t need Kara worrying that he’s going to hurt me. She worries enough.
When I’m finished, she throws together a plan. There’s a Sinful Serenade show Saturday, something Miles never mentioned, and the two of us simply must have a girl date before. To shop for outfits that will make an impression.
“And who is it you’re trying to impress?” I ask.
“Nothing will ever happen with Drew, but...Is it so bad to want him to look at me like he’s going fucking crazy thinking about what he wants to do to me?”
“He does look at you like that.”
She shakes her head. “He’s just being crazy over-protective.”
We finalize out shopping plans and I head home.
There's something waiting by my door—a wrapped box, complete with an aqua-blue bow. There's a card. It's from Miles.
Good luck studying tonight.
- Miles
I throw myself onto the bed and unwrap the box. It's a Nintendo 64 and two faded, gray cartridge games—Episode One: Podracer and Star Wars: Rouge Squadron.
I connect the wires to the TV the same way I did when I was a kid—red to red, white to white, yellow to yellow.
I text Miles.
Meg: I take back whatever I said about us not being friends. You're my new best friend.
Miles: I'm calling Kara right now.
Meg: Asshole.
Miles: That's no way to thank someone who brings you so much pleasure.
Meg: You didn't tell me about the show.
Miles: It's supposed to be a secret. Figured Tom would flip if I invited anyone. But if Drew has a big mouth—
Meg: That's not an invitation.
Miles: You're welcome to come. You can thank me properly backstage.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The text on my phone is so hot my skin is burning.
Miles: You better be wearing those panties I bought you.
We're in Hollywood, mere steps from the concert venue. It's early, but there's a line snaking around the corner. For a secret show, the word really got out.
Kara runs ahead. She talks to the bouncer, points out that our names are definitely on the list. He looks her up and down, licking his lips like he's picturing her naked. God bless the girl. She doesn't recoil. She holds steady and motions for me to follow her inside.
Meg: What if I'm not wearing any panties?
Miles: I'm going to find out as soon as humanly possible.
I shove my phone into my purse and catch up to my best friend. Running is difficult in this outfit. My skirt is short and my top is tiny. It's a ridiculous bustier that looks more like a bra than anything else. It's uncomfortable, but that's a small price to pay if I can really cause a reaction.
The club is lit in strange shades of neon blue and purple. It's empty on the first floor. The second houses a VIP area, and it's packed to the brim.
Kara squeezes my hand and drags me up the stairs. She pushes past another set of musician guys all the way to Drew. She finds him like he has a honing beacon.
He does a double take when he sees her outfit. Mission accomplished.
"Who lets you out of the house dressed like that?" He raises a brow.
She shrugs like she wears this everywhere. They hug hello. I step aside to give them room. I’m not sure where Kara gets her insecurity. Drew is absolutely looking at her like he wants to fuck her. He’s not as obvious about it as Miles is, but he’s obvious enough.
I scan the room until I find Miles. There. He’s is leaning against the wall with a can of green tea—the same cans I drink—and he's talking to some buxom blond.
Well then.
His eyes find mine, and he immediately excuses himself. Hell, he practically throws the buxom blond out of his way. I nod, but I turn my attention elsewhere. Miles can come to me.
"Hey, Megan, right?"
That must be Tom. I turn to face him, and he immediately wraps his fingers around my upper arm and not-so-gently pulls me aside.
"It's Meg, actually."
"Sure." He lowers his voice. "Can I talk to you about something?"
I scan the room. Miles is staring at me with agony in his eyes like he's desperate to get me alone.
"Make it quick," I say.
Tom leans in towards me. "There's no easy way for me to say this."
"Then say it the difficult way."
"Are you sleeping with Miles?"
"None of your business." I shake off his arm.
"Okay. I'll cut the coy shit. It's common knowledge. I don't judge. No reason why a young woman shouldn't enjoy some casual sex—"
"You said you'd cut the coy shit."
Tom leans closer. "If it's more than casual sex, if something happens when he leaves, if you don't take it well...that could be a disaster."
"For me or for him?"
"For you, for him, for the band."
I step back. "I appreciate the concern, but nothing is going to happen."
"There are things you don't know about him. Reasons why he shouldn't be with anyone."
Great, more coy shit. For someone proud of being direct, Tom sure does dabble in bull. Something about the band must encourage this kind of behavior.
"Unless you're about to explain it, I suggest you leave," I say.
Tom stares at me. "He's not as strong as he looks."
It's ridiculous. Does Tom really think I have the power to hurt Miles? He's got this whole relationship backwards. Miles is the one with the power to hurt me. Miles is the one with all the cards. Miles is the one in control.
No matter what secret he's harboring.
"Excuse me." It's Miles. He not-so-gently pushes Tom out of the way. Miles’s eyes pass over me and he licks his lips. "I'm glad you two met, but I need to borrow Meg."
Miles's hand brushes against my lower back. I'm sure there’s something to what Tom is saying, but I can't bring myself to care—not with Miles's hands on my skin.
He presses his palm into my lower back and whispers in my ear, "I need to be inside you."
I press my thighs together. "Okay."
He leads me through the main backstage area to an ignored side door. We're in a tiny alley. It's sandwiched between buildings, out of view.
I lick my lips. Miles looks amazing. His shoulders are practically bursting out of his tight t-shirt. His jeans are slung low around his hips. I want the pressure of those hips on my body.
He grabs me and presses me against the wall. "You're trying to kill me with that outfit."
"This old thing?"
He brings his hands between my thighs and skims my panties. That smug smile spreads across his lips. I am, in fact, wearing panties, and they’re the panties he bought me. They're gorgeous black lace things, and every time I look at them, I think about him ripping them off.
"You look sexy as all hell," he says.
"I know."
"I like this side of you." He runs his fingertips over my thighs with the softest, lightest touch.
Heat spreads through my body. I want so badly to touch him and be touched by him, for him to be inside me, making me his plaything again.
But my stupid head is screaming. I need to know what Tom was talking about.
"Miles..."
He presses his hips into mine, pinning me to the wall. "Yes?"
"Can we..." My body is on fire. It's possible this can wait. "I have to ask you something."
His lips skim my chin. "Is it really that important?"
"Well..."
His cock is pressed against my crotch. He's hard, and he would feel so damn good inside me.
"You'll have to tell me that," I say.
"Mhmm." He runs his fingers over my panties. "After."
"Miles..."
He tugs at the strap of my top. "After." His voice is gruff, commanding.
"Promise me it's not important."
"Not as important as this." He press his palm against my panties. "But then, nothing is."
I take a deep breath. He's making a lot of sense. His hand is so warm against me, and the pressure is divine. He rubs me slowly, and pleasure shoots through me.
"Okay. After." My body relaxes, certain it's going to get what it wants.
Miles pulls my strap off my shoulder. My breast spills out of my top, on display to anyone who happens to walk by the alley.
His pupils dilate. A throaty groan escapes his lips. "Meg..." He shoves the other strap aside.
I kiss him, melting my body into his. I don't want to talk either. That’s a Miles I don't quite understand. But the one here—the one groaning into my mouth, toying at my nipples, pressing his hips against mine—that’s a Miles I understand.
He slips a finger into my panties and runs it along my sex. "You're always so fucking wet." He tugs at the panties, dragging them to my knees. "Turn around."
I do. He takes my hands and plants them
on the wall. He's behind me, inches from me. His breath is on my neck. Then it's his lips. He sinks his teeth into my skin as he kneads my breast.
He grabs my hip, digging his nails into my skin. He pulls me closer, and his jeans rub against me, rough against my more delicate parts. I can feel his cock through the fabric. It's begging to be released, begging to be inside me.
There's a soft thud of his jeans falling to his feet. We're half-naked, and we're about to fuck in this alley. Someone could walk by, someone could see, someone could snap a picture and sell it to a gossip magazine.
But none of that matters. Nothing matters but being one with Miles again.
He grabs my hips and holds me steady. His cock strains against my sex.
I shake with pleasure. Almost there. Almost exactly where I need to be.
He slides inside me, and I gasp. His teeth sink into my neck. He holds onto my hips tight enough to leave white marks on my skin. I press my palms into the wall and rock my hips to meet him.
I shouldn't be here. I'm acting like a desperate groupie. I'm giving him all the cards, but I don't give a damn. His chest is pressed into my back. His cock is sliding inside me. His lips are on my neck.
This is where I should be. This is all I ever need to be.
"Miles." I groan. "Please..."
He knows what I need. He thrusts into me, hard and fast. He moves one hand to my breast and toys with my nipple. He sucks on my earlobe, nibbles on my neck, presses his lips against my shoulder.
I rock my hips to meet him so he's as deep as he'll go. This is what I need. This is how I know him.
His breath gets heavy. He groans and slides his hand over my hip to my clit to stroke me.
Everything around me is Miles—his breath, his heartbeat, his body rocking into mine. This should be enough. This needs to be enough.
But the same thought rushes through my mind. What the hell is he hiding?
I close my eyes for a moment. Dig my fingers into the concrete wall. I shouldn't be thinking anything but don't stop.
I turn towards him. Our eyes connect for a moment, and every part of me feels tingly and nervous.
It's enough. For right now, it's enough. I turn back to the wall, and I arch my body into his. He groans, and his grip tightens on my hips. He thrusts into me, deeper and harder.
Sing Your Heart Out Page 11
