My clothes aren't in the spare room. They're still on the floor downstairs. I hug my towel to my chest and move to the living room.

Miles is sitting on the couch. Next to my neatly arranged clothing.

Okay then.

I take my time sliding into my bra. Miles is still under my thumb. Still watching me with rapt attention.

Damn, I like having his attention.

I shimmy into my skirt and slide my blouse over my shoulders. I do only the middle three buttons.

But my underwear is nowhere to be seen.

There's a devilish grin on Miles's face. I'm sure he has something to do with this, but I'm not going to admit it's an issue. So I don't have underwear, so what?

"Let's get sushi for lunch." He pulls a condom from the front pocket of his jeans and pulls me onto his lap. "You can have your panties when I'm done with you."

He presses his lips to mine and slides his hand under my skirt.

It would be silly to object.

* * *

The fusion Japanese restaurant is right on the water. Ocean and blue sky are the backdrop to the shady patio.

We're the only people out here. It's midafternoon, that time between lunch and dinner. A breeze blows over my shoulders. I shiver and hug my arms to my chest. Miles slides his leather jacket off his arms and drapes it over my shoulders.

A perfect gentleman.

My heartbeat picks up. I'm sure I'm getting the wrong idea again. I'm just another girl in a long list of Miles's playthings.

I push my concerns aside. It's not every day I'm wined and dined—well, dined, at least—by a hot rock star. And it's certainly not every day he makes me come more times than I can count.

Miles watches me open the menu. He laughs, a deep I'm obviously making fun of Meg kind of laugh. I'm sure my jaw is hanging, but the prices here are insane.

"You really are adorable," he says.

I fold the menu together and cross my legs. I'll show him adorable. "Those weren't your words in the shower."

He bites his lip, and his eyes light up. It's sexy as all hell, but it is not a look of defeat.

"Order whatever you want," he says. "It's on me."

"I know."

He's smirking again. I entertain him. No, it's worse. I amuse him.

Okay, fine. There's only one way to put an end to this. I need to convince Miles I'm on his level. That I'm not intimidated by his money, or his body, or his gorgeous voice.

When our server arrives, I pick the most expensive sashimi on the menu, and I order two of everything. Well, four of everything since sashimi comes two pieces to an order. I request salt instead of soy sauce. I snap the menu closed and hand it to the server.

"And to drink?" he asks.

Damn. I order a green tea and offer my best smile. The whole unflappable thing does come off a little cold, and I'm not going to be one of those people who's an asshole to waitstaff.

Miles is still staring at me like I'm a puppy. Apparently, he's not impressed by my display. He requests his usual.

The server leaves. I take a long sip of my water. I stare at the ocean—it's only thirty feet away—to avoid the look in his eyes.

"You really like sashimi," he says.

"Yes."

He laughs. "You okay, Meg? You seem a little out of sorts."

I bring my gaze back to him. "I'm fine." It's a lie. I'm not fine. I'm crumbling. His eyes are beautiful and they're filled with affection.

"I'm not cute," I say.

"We'll have to agree to disagree there."

"Fine. But I'd rather you not keep bringing it up." I cross and uncross my legs. This seat suddenly feels uncomfortable. I don't want to amuse him. I want to affect him. I want to matter to him.

He lowers his voice. "What's so bad about being cute?"

"It's what you say about your little sister. Or about someone who is clueless and totally uncool."

"No," he says. "It's the girl who blushes when you compliment her, who tries to prove she's a badass by ordering enough sashimi for three people."

"I'm going to eat all of it."

He smiles. "And that—you get defensive about everything."

"I'm not defensive." That isn't helping me prove my point. I give up. "Fine. You're right. I'm adorable and clueless and awkward and you're sexy and suave and in control. Should I keep going?"

He lowers his voice. "It's not a competition. I like you the way you are."

"But…" I bite my lip. I'm not helping my case. "Okay."

"We're friends." His eyes find mine. "I want you to enjoy this as much as I do, Meg. If calling you adorable really makes you that miserable, I'll stop. But I'd rather not. I love watching you blush."

I swallow hard. "Okay."

"You sure?"

I nod. There's something about his voice when he calls me adorable. I hate feeling cute, but I love the sound of his voice when he says it. I'm affecting him. Maybe I'm not driving him mad with lust. Maybe I don't have him under my spell. But I am affecting him.

"I don't think you're amusing," he says. "I think you're funny. Charming in a unique way."

My cheeks flush.

"You have a beautiful smile. It's rare. Makes me feel like I've won a prize when I can get you to smile."

His expression is sincere. Does he really think that much of me? His words aren't at all casual. They're the words of someone with deep affection. They're the words of a lover, not a fuck buddy.

I clear my throat. "You really think we're friends and not just two people hooking up?"

He nods.

"So you'd tell me if there was anything I needed to know about you? Anything you usually keep secret."

He raises an eyebrow. "You getting at something?"

"Just… you've been pushing a lot about Rosie. I thought that maybe you'd been through something like that."

"My uncle died last year."

"So that house—"

"It's mine."

"He's the one you inherited from?"

Miles nods.

"Oh, I'm sorry that you lost him."

"Thank you." His eyes go to the ocean. "Took me six months to smile after he died. It's still a struggle some days. So I know it still hurts you, that your sister lied to you. I can only imagine." His expression fills with vulnerability. "I'm not going to lie to you like that."

For the first time ever, Miles isn't confident. There's uncertainty all over his face. His brow is knotted, his eyes turned down.

"There's nothing you need to know," he says. "I promise."

The words don't feel quite right, but I can't bring myself to ask him to promise.

* * *

Back at his uncle's place—his place, I guess—I change into a pair of extra boxers and a t-shirt. His extra clothes. Not some random thing he keeps around for the disposable women he brings here.

We settle onto the couch.

Miles slides his arm around my shoulder. I rest my head on his chest. It's comfortable, being here with him. It's normal.

He turns on the TV and his PS4 and scrolls through a streaming service.

He runs a hand through my hair. "This is what you want to watch, right?"

He navigates to The Lost World. He's mocking me.

"Clever," I say.

"It's 'clever girl,' and that's in the first movie."

"Clever boy."

"I'd love to watch dinosaurs destroy San Diego, but if you'd rather watch something else, go for it." He hands me the remote.

"You're going to mock me whatever I pick."

His breath is warm on my ear. He runs his hand along the neckline of my t-shirt, his t-shirt. "Likely."

I arch my back, pressing my chest into his hands. "Convince me to pick something."

"Convince you how?" His fingertips skim my skin.

"Like that," I breathe.

"I like the confidence."

"You're stalling."

He slides his hand into my shirt, his fingertips brushing my nipple. "Why would I do that?"

"It's smart, really. You're pressed against me on the couch. You get to mock me and have your way with me at the same time."

He smiles. "Some part of this you don't like?"

"No." I lean into his touch. "Keep going."

"After you pick a movie."

I'm not doing anything with him touching me. I close my eyes, squeezing the remote to contain myself. He runs his fingers over my chest, holding my body against his.

"We can watch whatever," I say.

"Mhmm." He sucks on my earlobe. "You pick."

"You're going to make fun of me."

"You're not going to pay attention to the movie, anyway. You pick."

His teeth scrape against my earlobe as he squeezes my nipples. I can't contain it anymore. I groan and press my body into his.

"Miles..."

"I'm not familiar with a movie by that name."

He's trying to kill me. There's no other reasonable explanation.

He brings his lips to my neck and pulls me onto his lap. Then his hands are on my boxers, well, his boxers. He pulls them to my knees.

"Miles… you can't… don't tease me…"

"Me, tease? Never." He sinks his teeth into my neck and pulls the boxers off my hips.

"I don't care about a movie."

"I know."

He strokes my inner thighs with a light touch. He gets closer, closer, closer. I throw my head back and relax my body into his. Movies are stupid. Movies are so much less amazing than this.

I lift my arms and Miles pulls my t-shirt, his t-shirt, over my head. I'm on his lap, naked, in the middle of the living room, the stupid TV still waiting for my movie selection.

No way in hell I'm selecting a movie now.

He grabs my wrist and plants my hands on the couch, right outside his thighs. His lips find my neck again. He sucks on my skin. Desire spreads to my limbs.

He can tease me all he wants if it's going to end like this.

I press my palms into the couch. I'm his plaything, and I'm not about to object to this performance.

He strokes my thighs with a light touch, getting closer, and closer, and closer. He's an inch away from my sex.

He draws zigzags over my thigh with his fingertips. My body hums with desire. Miles's touch is everything I need. The only thing I need.

"I've never cared less about a movie," I say.

"I know."

His breath is warm on my neck, my ear. He sucks on my lobe again. The pressure is intense, and every motion of his tongue sends another shockwave of pleasure through me.

Miles can't give me anything more than sex, but, my God, can he give me sex.

"Touch me," I breathe.

"Good things come to those who wait."

"I hate waiting."

"I know." He sinks his teeth into my neck again just enough to feel amazing. His fingers skim my sex. "Fuck, Meg, how do you get so wet?"

"You."

He groans and sinks his teeth into my neck again. Finally, his fingertips skim my clit. Oh. Hell. Yes. His touch sends sparks through my body. It takes everything I have not to pant.

I arch my back, rocking my hips to press myself against his hand. He strokes me with slow, steady attention. His touch is light and delicate, and every part of me is desperate for him. I can't contain my breath. I can't do anything but surrender to the sensation.

He sinks his teeth into my neck. It's harder now, and every bite amplifies the pleasure building inside me. His touch gets harder, faster, rougher. He rubs my clit with long strokes, his fingers skimming my sex.

He slides a finger inside me. I gasp. It's exactly what I need. Then it's two fingers.

I arch my back to push him deeper. He presses his free hand against my chest, holding my body against his, by back against his chest.

The pressure builds. Almost. It's intense. I didn't think my body had anything left, but I'm almost there again. I take a sharp breath, soaking in the sound of his groans, the feel of his cotton t-shirt against my back.

I'm naked on his lap. I'm about to come. He has all the cards, and I don't give a damn. As long as he keeps touching me, keeps making me feel this good.

My body fills with pleasure. It starts inside me and radiates through my core—to my stomach, hips, chest, thighs, lips. The fire inside me is so intense nothing could ever put it out.

I groan. Almost. Almost. I squeeze the couch as an orgasm rocks through me. Pleasure spreads all the way to my fingers and toes.

He holds me close for a while. Until my breath returns to normal. Until I almost believe I could walk.

His lips press against my neck. "Did that help you decide on a movie?"

"Shut up."

"That's no way to thank the man who made you scream so loudly you almost broke the glass."

"Don't be cocky," I murmur.

"If you promise to stay that loud. I like it." He helps me off the couch and takes my hand. "Come on. I have something to show you."

I follow him upstairs. He opens a bedroom door flips on the lights.

It occurs to me that, once again, I'm naked and he's fully dressed. Somehow, I'm not bothered. I love the way he looks at me like he wants to consume me. It makes me feel powerful and desirable.

He points to a bookshelf. "Notice anything?"

Holy shit. There are three or four dozen Star Wars novels here.

"You're a nerd," I say.

"Our secret." He slides his arm around my waist. "I have a reputation to maintain."

I nod. Miles told me a secret. We have a secret. Besides the whole friends-with-benefits thing. It's not a big secret, but it feels personal.

My lips curl into a smile. "You care what other people think of you."

"Everyone does."

"But you act like you don't. You act like nothing could ever hurt you."

"You know that isn't true."

I slide my hand around his waist and look into his eyes. "Tell me another secret."

"Damn, it's hard to turn down a naked woman."

"You did last night."

"You know why I did." He runs his fingers through my hair. "How secret?"

"Very secret."

He chuckles. "I went as Harry Potter for Halloween all throughout middle school."

"You did not."

He nods. "I was shorter, smaller. My mom loved making my costume. She loved that kind of thing, the magic, the justice." His eyes go to the floor. "I was twelve or thirteen. Older kid took my fake glasses, threw them on the ground, and stepped on them."

"What did you do?"

"I flipped. Tried to hit him but I couldn't. He was bigger, stronger. The rest of the year, I never heard the end of it. Taught me the value of not reacting to things. Then I got bigger, learned how to hit. That was that."

"You stopped showing your emotions and started beating people up because a bully picked on your Harry Potter costume?"

"No. What is it you always call me?"

"Aloof."

"I'm aloof because I don't want anyone to know my weaknesses. I don't want anyone to know what hurts me." His expression gets intense.

"But your songs. You're confessing to the whole world."

"Yeah."

"What's the difference?"

"I'm in control. I'm the one on stage, commanding attention, making girls scream." His eyes meet mine. He runs his fingertips up and down my back. "Most people don't listen closely to the words. They don't see what's right in front of their faces."

I lean into his touch. It's difficult to concentrate what with his hands being on my naked body. But I can tell this is important. This really is a secret.

I stare back. "I did. I listened to that song a thousand times. That guy who was singing. He was my closest friend. He was the only person who knew where I hurt."

"I still know where you hurt."

"But I don't… it's not equal."

"You do." He takes a step backwards. "You know more than anybody else does."

He sits on the bed, his eyes filling with a look I can't place. It's sad but there's more to it than that. Nostalgia, maybe.

This was his uncle's place. It must mean a lot to him.

"This house seems untouched," I say.

"Don't come here by myself. It feels empty without Damon. Feels quiet without his laugh."

I scan the bookshelf. It's up to date. It has three Star Wars books that came out over the summer. So he is here sometimes. Once at least.

"Do you have a favorite?" I nod to the books.

"No."

"Do you like other sci-fi or just Star Wars?"

"Mostly Star Wars. And Futurama."

My eyes find his. "Did you ever play Podracer or Rogue Squadron?"

Now, he's looking at me like I'm the nerd. "Never had the chance."

"You know what this means?"

He smiles. "What?"

"We're watching Star Wars."

"Which one?"

"All of them."

"You'll be here until four a.m."

"Do you have something better to do?"

He laughs. "You really are cute."

"Okay, fine. I'm cute. But you have nothing better to do than watch twelve hours of Star Wars films."

"Can't think of anything I'd rather do."

I don't even care that he calls me cute. I haven't been this excited in months. I'm practically bouncing.

Miles looks just as excited.

It feels good, being with him and doing little things. Doing nothing.

"If you only want to watch one or two movies, I get that. I don't want to impose," I say.

"No, I like you here." He pulls me into the bed. "I like your company."

"Is that what the kids are calling it?"

"I love fucking you. But I like talking to you too." He slides his hands under my ass and guides me onto my back. "I like you here. House doesn't feel empty." He pulls his t-shirt over his head. "The guys in the band, you may not have noticed, but they watch me for signs I'm gonna break again."

"When did you break the first time?"

He says nothing.

I run my hands through his hair. "Does it still hurt?"

"Not as much. It's been a year almost." He presses his lips to my neck. "I like talking to you, Meg, but you're going to need to put some clothes on if you want to keep talking." He drags his fingertips over my chest. "You want to talk or you want to do this?"

I answer by unbuttoning his jeans.