The inside of the mansion is just as beautiful. The ground level has an open floor plan. The kitchen, dining table, and glass door are on one side. The glass door that leads to the balcony lets in soft, white light. The other side of the room is dimmer, yellow and fluorescent. It houses two couches, a TV, a coffee table, and a piano.

Miles and Pete are sitting on the piano's bench. They're lost in their own world. They don't notice me come in.

I pour a glass of water. They seem busy. I hate to interrupt, but I'm starving.

"Do you mind if I raid your fridge?" I yell to the other side of the room.

"Help yourself to anything," Miles calls back. His voice echoes around the room.

I stay busy fixing a snack. There's plenty of food in the fridge. Actually, there's a ridiculous variety of food in the fridge. Everything from fresh pasta to Thai curry paste to vegetables I barely recognize. A water chestnut, maybe?

"Are you guys hungry?" I call back. "I can make something."

There's murmuring on their side of the room. Finally, Miles replies.

"Make enough for four. Meg is studying upstairs." His voice softens. "Thanks, Jess. Nice to have someone who can cook around. My girl is hopeless at it, and she's never gonna learn if I keep making her breakfast and dinner."

"Does she live with you?" It's strange yelling the conversation across the cavernous room, but it's nice focusing on something besides my thoughts.

"Some of the time. She's going to med school in Irvine. It's about an hour and a half south without traffic. With traffic, could take three or four hours. She stays with her parents during the week."

"You miss her?"

"Mhmm." He chuckles. "Course she'd never get anything done if she lived here all week. She looks damn cute when she's studying. Can't resist distracting her."

"Pete's the same way with me." Sort of.

Miles tsk tsks. "Can't get in the way of an ambitious woman. Thought you had better game than that, Steele. Her career's gonna come first."

I can't quite make out Pete's reply. But it must be something clever, because Miles's chuckle fills the room.

"No wonder I don't let you write any songs," Miles says. "It'd be pure filth." He sings. "Baby you always come first, dripping on my face as I plunge my tongue into your cunt."

My cheeks flush. Did Pete actually say that?

Uhhh. Need to focus on anything else. "Do you have any dietary restrictions?"

They whisper something else and chuckle. Finally, someone calls out a no. I scan the fridge for my options. The thing is full of exotic ingredients—gangal, snapper, scallops. How the hell do you cook a scallop? I'm determined to find out.

I settle in the kitchen and browse recipes on my phone.

Miles and Pete shift back into working. By the time I've decided on a spicy stir fry dish, they're playing around with piano riffs. It sounds like they're having fun. Every few minutes, one of them bursts into laughter.

It's strange—the sad piano ballad mixed with their infectious laughter—but it's fitting. Like my mood the last few weeks.

The food cooks quickly. Everyone breaks to eat. Even Meg comes down from her room. I let her and Miles lead the conversation. They joke about little things—Star Wars, Tom's face when he's pissed, a neighbor with a ridiculous yellow SUV.

They don't press me or Pete for details about our relationship. They aren't the snooping type. That, or our lie is more seamless than I think it is.

After lunch, I set up shop on the couch with my required reading. The guys go back to work.

This time, I'm close enough to listen.

I know how to use my hands

my mouth, my hips

I know every single place that

you want my lips

baby, I know this hurts

but it could hurt worse

fallin' head over heels

baby, that's a curse

I know how to lock you out

no screams, no lies

the anguished frown as I convince

you not to try

baby, I know this hurts

but it could hurt worse

fallin' head over heels

baby, that's a curse

I know how to make you leave

can't let you stay

but do I believe myself when I beg you

to run away?

baby, I know this hurts

but it could hurt worse

fallin' head over heels

baby, that's a curse

Miles sings them with that gorgeous tortured voice of his. He never phones it in. Not even on the tenth or twentieth reading of a line. Every word flows from his lips with a wealth of passion.

After an hour, I give up on my work and listen to them piece together the song. Pete plays a few bars of piano. Miles sings. They go back and forth for a while then put it together.

"That's the chorus. That's it," Miles says.

"No. More like—" Pete sings.

baby, I know this hurts

but it could hurt worse

fallin' head over heels

baby, that's a curse

My heart rises up in my throat. Pete's not nearly as good a singer as Miles is, but there's a certain rawness to it. His feelings pour in through my ears and fill me everywhere.

The words are in my soul.

His voice is in my soul.

He's hurt. I replay the words again.

baby, I know this hurts

but it could hurt worse

fallin' head over heels

baby, that's a curse

Finally, I have some insight into his heart. It's not enough. I need more.

I turn around, peeking my head over the back of the couch, and I watch them play.

Miles takes his turn singing the chorus. He embellishes the pitch, sells the ache in the words, but it's not the same.

"Will you sing it again?" I ask.

Pete's eyes meet mine. "Thought you were studying."

Miles swats him. "Damn. It's like you don't want to get laid."

"Don't need your help with that."

Miles shakes his head. "Your girl wants to hear you sing. You know what happens after you sing?"

"Something about how she'll be convinced I'm great with my mouth." Pete makes eye contact and raises a brow. "Do I need to convince you of that, Jess?"

"Yes. Convince me." I press my fingers into the soft leather couch.

"Not gonna do it by singing." Pete smiles.

"Singing first," I say.

"You've got no game, Steele," Miles says. "I expect better."

"Don't need game." He cocks a brow. "If I ask, Jess will slide her panties to her feet right now."

"With me here?" Miles asks.

Pete nods. "I'd put a hundred bucks on it."

"Make it worth my while. Make it a thousand."

"You guys know I can hear you," I say.

"What do you say, baby?" Pete locks eyes with me. "Want to split the winnings?"

Baby. He called me baby. My heart thuds against my chest. My body refuses to contemplate whether or not this is pretend.

This isn't fair. If he's going to tease me, I'm going to tease back.

I smile back at him. "Why stop with panties? I'll take off everything. Except my glasses. You did want me to keep them on next time."

His pupils dilate. There. He's under my thumb.

Miles cocks a brow.

Pete nods a yes.

I nod back. "If you sing me the song. Please."

"Sexual blackmail. That's low, Jess. I expected better." Miles winks then nudges Pete. "Should I stay in the middle of this flirtation or you want to put the poor girl out of her misery?"

"She knows what she's doing. She enjoys the misery." Pete turns back to the piano.

Despite his protests, Pete plays what they have of the song. He sings the whole time. When he's finished, I'm equal parts turned on and torn up. It's just like his tattoo—the pain is clear but it's damn beautiful.

Miles pushes himself off the bench. "Give me fifteen minutes." He throws me a stern look. "Keep your clothes on. Keep your leverage."

He makes his way up the stairs.

Pete holds my gaze. "Was that for my benefit or his?"

"Mine." I smooth my skirt. I can do confidence too. "Unless you have a problem."

"No, I want your gorgeous pink lips wrapped around my cock." He stares back at me. "I want you aching from how badly you want to be filled as I come in your mouth."

My sex clenches. I've already lost all the power. I'm quickly losing interest in keeping it. I'm quickly losing interest in anything except our bodies connecting.

He copies my tone. "Unless you have a problem."

"No. No problem."

"You're going to come on my hand, baby. You're going to come hard enough you forget your name."

My heart pangs. It pulls me away from the ache in my core. "You called me baby again."

He cocks a brow.

"We're alone." We don't lie when we're alone. I adjust my glasses and rack my brain for some way to explain it. "Don't call me that unless you mean it."

He pushes himself off the bench and makes his way to the couch.

Then he's next to me. He pulls me into his lap, so I'm straddling him.

His hand slides under my skirt.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Feeling how wet you are." He presses his palm against my sex, over my panties. "You want me to stop?"

I shake my head.

His fingers skim my sex. "You like thinking about sucking me off."

"Yes."

He brings his mouth to my ear. "What else, baby?"

"Why are you calling me that?"

"Cause it makes you whimper." He pushes my underwear aside and teases my sex with his finger.

"I don't care. Stop calling me that."

He just barely nods. It's not much of an agreement but it's something. It's enough.

Pete slides a finger inside me and takes my earlobe between my teeth. "Where else do you want my cock?"

My tongue is sticky. I can barely draw a breath through my nose. "Miles is coming back."

"I don't care if Miles sees. Do you?"

At the moment, no. Not even a little. In fact, I like the idea of getting caught. It makes me feel dirty.

I shake my head.

"Where do you want my cock?" He slides his finger further inside me. "Here?"

I whimper a yes.

He takes his other hand and brings it to my ass, over my panties. "Here?"

The cotton fabric presses against my entrance.

My body shudders. I do. I never thought I would, but I do. I nod. "Later."

"You think I'm a tease now?" He nips at my ear. "You have no fucking idea how badly I can tease you."

"What are you trying to prove?" I groan as he slides a finger inside me.

"This isn't about proving shit." He stares into my eyes. "I want to watch you come."

"But…"

But he's so much more aggressive than usual. He must be proving something.

I have no idea what it is. But he does. It's there, in the determined expression in his deep brown eyes.

"You want to come, baby?" he asks.

"Pete, why do you keep calling me that?"

"Didn't think about it."

"Well, stop it. Please. If you say it again, I'm done. I don't want to hear the word baby, unless it's followed by I love you and not just pretend."

"You want to come, Jess?" he corrects himself.

My heart pangs. I don't feel any better. I only crave the word in my ears again. It doesn't have to be baby. Any term of endearment will do.

He slides another finger inside me.

I dig my hands into his shoulder. "Yes."

Right now, this is the only way I can have him.

He's not gentle today. He fucks me with his fingers. His other hand goes to the back of my head and he pulls me into a deep kiss.

His tongue slides around mine. He tastes fucking good.

His hand goes to my dress. He pushes the straps off my shoulders. A few flicks of his wrist and my bra is on the couch.

"Miles is gonna see," I groan. But I'm not really objecting. It makes me hotter, knowing we might get caught.

He presses his thumb against my clit. "You want me to stop, baby?"

Again, my heart pangs. No, no, no. I can't take this anymore. Even if it means I'll be achy and desperate all day. "I asked you not to call me that. Take it back or get the fuck off me."

"You're on me." He pulls his hand to his side.

"Take it back or tell me you mean it, that you really want me to be yours."

His brow knits. His eyes fill with confusion.

For once, he's tongue tied.

I push myself off Pete. It's not fair, having your heart and your body at war. I'm still aching with desire. He's on the couch, hard, his hand wet from me.

I take a step backwards. "Stop teasing, Pete. You know how I feel about you. You're being cruel."

His expression darkens as he turns to the other side of the room. "Yeah."

Yeah?

That's it?

He pushes himself off the couch.

What the fuck? That's not a response.

I take a deep breath. "Why? Why do you keep calling me that?"

He shakes his head and marches off towards the bathroom.

I search the ground floor for another bathroom. There—it's opposite the kitchen. I lock myself in it and I stay busy washing my hands.

This is a whole new level of mixed messages.

He was right. I had no fucking idea how badly he could tease me.