He takes steps towards me, but I'm still stuck in the headlights. Who the hell are these people, and why did my sister throw her life away for this?

He's behind me. I can feel his body, hear his breath. His fingers wrap around my wrist so tightly I lose sensation in my hand.

"Excuse us." He pulls me away from the people, all the way to the sidewalk across the street. "Do you do coke?"

It's dark here. The headlights are finally gone. "No."

"Then what were you doing waiting your turn?"

I have no response.

His grip tightens around my wrist. "You do drugs?"

I dig my heel into the concrete. "That's none of your business."

"We're friends. Makes it my business."

I grit my teeth. "You made it clear we're not confidants."

He takes my hand and tugs me away from the scene. "Look me in the eyes and answer me. Do you do drugs?"

My gaze goes anywhere but his eyes. "No. I don't do drugs." The sky is dark enough that I can see stars. So many stars. "I don't even like being around drugs."

"I'll take you home." He pulls me towards the sidewalk.

I'm the wet blanket again, the girl who can't handle the party, the girl who belongs at home.

I pull my hand free. "That's not necessary."

"You're pale. You're barely breathing." His voice gets serious. "You look like you saw a ghost."

Those people might as well be ghosts. How long until one of them is lying in a hospital bed, heartbeat fading to zero?

I take a deep breath. "It's nothing."

"No lies. That's our deal."

"I just remembered something awful." I hug my purse against my chest to keep the warmth in my body. "I'm not going to talk about it."

He shifts. His expression softens. His eyes brighten like he's trying to lift the mood. "You want to give me some hint what's wrong?"

"Not particularly."

"The sooner you tell me, the sooner we leave, and the sooner you get to fuck me."

My cheeks flush red again. "You're—"

"Don't say dreaming, because we both know what my dreams are like." He leans closer, holding my stare like he's daring me to explain.

I need to not be talking about this or thinking about this. And there's no way I'll be thinking about it if we really do sleep together.

So, fine, I'll tell him as much as it takes to change the subject. "There was someone in my life who went down a bad path with drugs. It still hurts but I'm not going to talk about it."

"Oh." His voice is soft. There's a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. "I'll take you home."

"You have to promise to drop this subject."

"It's dropped." He leads me around the corner. We walk in silence for a few blocks then Miles stops.

In front of a motorcycle.

He pulls two helmets from a compartment and hands one to me. Then he slings a motorcycle jacket around my shoulders. "This might make your thighs a little sore."

I climb on after him and hold on for dear life.

* * *

My knuckles are white. My wrists are numb. Every muscle in my body is tense from the vice grip I have around Miles's waist.

The man drives like a Goddamn maniac.

After we park in my garage, I pull the helmet off my head and shove it into his hands. As usual, he's effortlessly cool and I'm trembling. Only known the guy for weeks, and we already have a pattern that gives him all the cards and leaves me with none.

He locks his bike, looking me over like he's trying to read my mind. He shrugs his leather jacket off his shoulders. "You'll want one before you know it."

"Fat chance." I dig my purse out of the bike's tiny trunk. "You've saved the pathetic damsel in distress. You don't have to stay." I turn and step towards the door.

"Meg."

"What?"

"You're wearing my jacket."

Ugh. I am wearing his extra jacket—it's early fall in Los Angeles, but the air is cold when it's whizzing by at eighty miles per hour.

I return the garment without another word.

My stomach is in knots. I want him in my room, in my bed, but not if he's going to treat me like the pathetic girl who can't handle her shit.

Those people… Their eyes were empty. I can't get it out of my head. I need it out of my head. I need to think about something else now.

Miles can deliver on that. Does anything else really matter?

I motion for him to follow and I make my way through the lobby. His calm steps remind me that he is still effortless. I am still clumsy and out of my comfort zone.

I press the button for the elevator. My hands are anything but steady. I press them into my thighs and take deep breaths.

Miles leans closer. His voice is steady, reassuring. "I hope the bike didn't wear out your thighs."

A blush threatens to form on my cheeks. I bite my lip. I can be cool too. I can be calm too. "It didn't."

"Good."

The elevator doors open, and we step inside. Miles hits the button for my floor. He says nothing.

Ding. We're at my floor. Miles moves steadily, his hand pressed gently against my lower back. His touch rekindles the fire inside me. I don't want to banter or fight. I don't want to talk at all.

He needs to be naked in my bed. Now.

Deep breath. I can do this. I unlock my door and slide it open.

"Is that an invitation?" He drags his fingertips over my back. "I'd really hate to leave without making you come."

The mouth on this guy! He doesn't lack for confidence. "Come in."

He laughs at my choice of words but this time I feel like he's laughing with me, not at me.

Some of the nerves in my stomach settle. This, having sex for the first time, is a big deal. But I can handle it.

Shit. I promised Kara I'd text her if I left. I stop just inside my door and dig through my purse.

Miles looks at me quizzically. "Someone else you'd rather talk to?"

I shake my head. "Kara. It's a girl thing."

"Tell her you're about to have the best sex of your life."

"Not a lot of competition there."

He slides his hands over the hem of my dress. That hand is so, so close to exactly where it needs to be.

I find my phone and tap out a text to Kara.

Meg: Went home early. Everything is fine. See you Sunday.

Miles plucks my phone from my hand and slides it into his pocket. He shifts, pinning me to the wall.

I close my eyes and soak in the weight of his body. God, he feels so good. We're almost there.

When his lips connect with mine, every bit of ugliness fades. My awful memories fade. The outside world fades. Every moment that isn't this one fades.

The kiss breaks. My body is buzzing. I'm desperate, but I can't let it show. I channel Miles's aloof confidence. I'm cool, calm, collected. No problem.

His eyes pass over me again. "You look amazing in that dress."

"I know."

"You're supposed to compliment me after that."

"I know that, too."

His lips curl into a smile. "You've got to butter me up a little if you want me naked."

Damn, the man is a mind reader. Or maybe he's used to women wanting him naked. Doesn't matter. Right now, I need him naked.

I press my thigh into his. "You have tattoos, right?"

"Several."

"And you got them just so you'd have a reason to take off your shirt."

"You caught me." He laughs. "You sure you weren't drinking at the show?"

I run my fingers over the hem of his t-shirt. "Positive."

He moves my hand gently and pulls his t-shirt over his head. Damn. He's even more attractive up close. His chest and shoulders are strong. I run my fingers over his sculpted abs and trace those v-lines at the top of his hips. They're like an arrow pointing to a prize.

A prize I need desperately.

But I don't want to rush. This feels good. It's the only thing that feels good. I'm going to savor it.

His tattoos are just as sexy as his muscles. Somehow, the ink makes him hotter. It's like his songs— his soul is on his skin for anyone to see. It's obvious and mysterious at once.

What does it mean, the Chinese-style dragon adorning his shoulder and bicep? The rose and thorns on his chest? The words above the flower: Be Brave, Live?

I wish I was brave enough to draw my soul on my skin. To offer up my pain in a song for the whole world to see.

I trace the words with my fingers. "When did you get that one?"

"About a year ago."

"No women's names?"

"Love is temporary. Ink is forever."

His chest and shoulders are strong. Not an ounce of fat to cover a perfect six-pack. I run my finger down his torso to that sexy v-line guys get.

I look back into his eyes. "You won't fall in love, or you won't fall in love with me?"

"I won't fall in love."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I am."

"But how?"

"Because I know."

I press my hand against his stomach to remind myself why I invited him in. "That's not an answer."

"I'll make you a deal. You accept my answer and—"

"You can believe whatever you want." Even if it doesn't make sense. The Miles in that song, the Miles who tattoos a mantra on his chest—that Miles is committed, passionate, vulnerable.

The one sitting next to me… If I didn't know better, I'd be sure that nothing had ever hurt him.

Miles ignores my objection. "If I ever do fall in love, I'll add her name to my collection."

"Whatever makes you happy."

He digs his hand through my hair. "This makes me happy."

A blush spreads across my cheeks. He's in control again, and I'm the prey again. I need to do something to affect him, too.

I brush my hand against the waist of his jeans.

"Doing some more investigative work there?" he asks.

I nod.

His breath gets heavy. "What are you hoping to find?"

I tilt my head so my lips are inches from his. "The reason why you're so arrogant."

"You already saw me naked."

"It was too dark. I didn't get a good look."

I cup the bulge in his jeans. Words flee my brain at an alarming rate. My body takes over. It knows one thing: it needs to touch him.

I rub him over his jeans.

His kiss starts slowly. He sucks on my lips. Then he's scraping his teeth against them. He tastes amazing, like salt, sweat, and Miles.

I push him onto the bed and position my body on top of his, straddling him. His thighs are between mine. His crotch is against mine. I can feel him through his jeans. He's hard. And he's warm. And damn do I want these stupid clothes out of the way so I can feel him properly.

Anticipation spreads through my thighs and pelvis. I sink into his body, grinding my crotch against his. My nerves slip away. There's no room for nerves in my brain. There's no room for anything but the overwhelming desire to touch Miles and have him touch me.

It feels so fucking good, being in this moment, thinking about nothing but this moment.

His voice is heavy. "I've been dying to get my hands under that dress all night."

He needs this too. It relaxes me, makes me forget he holds all the cards.

Miles pulls the straps off my shoulders, exposing my breasts. No bra tonight. I don't need a bra in a dress that hugs me as tightly as this one does.

His eyes go wide. His pupils dilate. "Damn." The pad of his thumb brushes against my nipple. "Better than I remembered."

I swallow hard. He was thinking about me when he was alone?

"What do you remember?" I ask.

"The taste of your skin." He pulls me closer and presses his tongue against my nipple.

Damn, that feels good. I dig my fingers into his shoulders. He groans against my skin as he teases my nipple with his tongue.

I barely manage to form words. "Is that all you remember?"

He swirls his tongue around my nipple. Sensation overwhelms me. Every flick of his tongue sends pleasure straight to my core. He can take as long as he wants to respond if he keeps doing this.

Hell, he can give up words forever if he keeps doing this.

His teeth scrape against my nipple. I gasp reflexively. It hurts just enough to feel amazing.

He pulls his mouth away and replaces it with his fingers. "And that sound you make."

"You like it?"

"No. I love hearing you groan. Want to hear it every fucking day."

He pinches my nipple, just hard enough that it barely hurts. Desire shoots through me. I groan. His pupils dilate. His lips press together. He does love it.

I love it.

Finally, we can really agree on something.

This is far too much thinking.

I need to stop thinking.

I grind against Miles. He groans as he brings his mouth back to my chest. He sucks on my nipple. Soft then hard then soft again.

My body floods with pleasure. He's too good at this.

Miles pulls my dress up, over my hips, stomach, chest. I lift my arms to help him. Then the garment is a heap on the floor.

I'm in nothing but panties.

He shifts our bodies. I'm flat on my back. He's on top of me, his hips pressed against mine, pinning me to the bed. His cock is against my clit. Only there's all this fabric in the way.

I've always hated fashion. Right now, I loathe it. He shouldn't be allowed to wear clothes. At least not in my apartment.

I reach for the button of his jeans. "You're wearing too many clothes."

He smiles. I'm not sure if it's smug or playful or confident. All three maybe. Right now, I feel at ease. Like he's not pushing or prodding me. Like he wants me comfortable, wants my pleasure. After all, he thinks about my breasts and the sounds I make when he touches me.

He wants me to feel good. Sexually. But that's something.

That's a lot.

Miles drags his lips over my neck. He shifts to his side, unzips, and slides off his jeans. It's all effortless. He's smooth, in control. I must seem like a desperate mess.

This is almost happening.

We're going to have sex.

He's going to be inside me.

Miles slides his fingers over my stomach. "You're nervous again."

I shake my head, but I can feel the trembling in my hands. I have almost no experience, and Miles is clearly some kind of sex god.

He's staring at me, his eyes filled with sincerity. He really is concerned about me.

"You are," he says.

Still, I shake my head.

His lips curl into a smile. "It's cute that you don't want to admit it."

I don't want to be cute. I want to be sexy. I want to be making him as needy as I feel.

Confidence. I can do that. I drag my fingers over his torso. "Don't you have a better use for your mouth?"

"Oh." His voice gets low. "You mean this." He trails his lips against my chest, stopping to draw circles around my nipple with his tongue.

"Yes. That." Pleasure surges through me.

His hand slides between my thighs. "You don't have to hide how badly you want this. I mean, it's cute and all—"

"I'm not cute."

"Try adorable."

"Didn't we discuss the appropriate uses for your mouth?"

He nods and presses his lips into mine. It's a hard kiss, possessive even. "How's that?"

I struggle through a breath. That is amazing. "It's a start."

He smiles, takes my hand, and places it on the waistband of his boxers.

I pull the damn things to his knees and wrap my fingers around him. He places his hand over mine, guiding me. I stroke him harder. Faster.

His lips find mine. It's fast and hard and messy. I kiss him back, sucking on his tongue, scraping my teeth against his lips.

He groans into my mouth.

He wants me. Miles, the sex god, wants me.

My heartbeat picks up. We're really doing this.

I watch him fish a condom from the pocket of his jeans. My palms get sweaty. Nerves rise up in my stomach. What if it hurts? What if I'm not good enough?

Miles places his body next to mine. He drags his hand up my leg and strokes my inner thigh. "Relax. You won't do it wrong."

"Okay," I breathe.

He pulls my panties off and presses his lips to my neck.

I groan as his fingers skim my clit.

He scrapes his teeth against my neck. His voice is low, hungry. "Don't hold back. I like you groaning. I like you loud. Turns me on to know it's good for you."

I have no control over my vocalizations. Taking in this experience is about all I can handle.

He sucks on my skin as he moves his fingers closer. Closer. They slide over my sex.

It feels good. We're close to doing this.

Nerves fade away as he rubs me. I take a deep breath and look into his gorgeous blue eyes.

His expression is heavy with need, but it's attentive too. Somehow, I trust him to guide me through this.

I let my eyelids press together and I sink into the bed. Slowly, he slides a finger inside me. He warms me up then it's two fingers. Three. I gasp.

That's intense. It hurts. I dig my nails into his shoulders.

"More?" he asks.

I nod.

He takes his time speeding up, going deeper. The discomfort fades to pleasure. Then it's a lot of pleasure.

Then his thumb is on my clit, stroking me. I groan as my sex clenches. That feels amazing. And the pleasure is building so quickly. With a few more strokes I'm at the edge. About to come.

Then I'm there. All the tension in my sex builds to a fever pitch then it's unwinding, spilling through me. I scream his name as I come.

It takes a moment to catch my breath. I blink my eyes open and stare into Miles's. He's still attentive, but he looks even needier. Like he's desperate to be inside me.

I want that.

I press my hand into his chest. "I want to do this. I'm ready."

He groans something that resembles a yes as he unwraps the condom and slides it on.

No more waiting.

This is happening.

He grabs my hip, pressing me against the bed, shifting my position so his cock brushes against my clit. I thrust my hips forward, and his tip strains against me.

Every nerve in my body is turned on, and they're all screaming the same thing. I need him inside me. Now.

I shift my hips to push him a little bit deeper. Deeper.

It's intense. There's pain but there's pleasure too. I dig my nails into his back until there's more pleasure than anything else.

I shift my hips to push him deeper. I can feel how my sex stretches to take him.

Miles goes slow. His eyes are on mine, watching my reactions. There's no sign of that arrogant, aloof guy. He's here, in this moment, committed to my pleasure.

He goes deeper. Deeper. It hurts but I don't want him to stop.

I tug at his hair. "Don't stop."

I kiss him like the ship is going down.

His hands curl around my back. Our bodies press together. It's intimate, the way he's holding me, the way he's kissing me, the way he's sliding inside me.

Then he's there. I'm full. It still hurts, but the pleasure far outweighs the pain.

My body takes over. I rock my hips to match his steady rhythm. It's slow. A good slow. A hell of an intense slow.

Pressure builds inside me. It's such sweet, perfect pressure.

I close my eyes and surrender to the feeling of Miles inside me.

I groan as loudly as I can. Something to let him know how much he's affecting me, how fucking good he's making me feel.

After a few more thrusts, I'm there. My sex clenches. Tighter and tighter. So tight I can barely take it.

Then I'm coming. I groan his name as an orgasm washes over me. It's different than before. More intense. Deeper.

Miles grabs my wrists and pulls my hands over my head. Then his lips are on mine. He thrusts into me so hard it hurts.

He groans into my mouth. It feels good in a different way, knowing he's close, feeling his pleasure.

His posture changes. His eyes close. His breath gets heavy.

I have to bite my lip to contain myself. It's still intense. It still hurts. But I don't want him to stop. There's something about hearing his groans and feeling his muscles tense.

It's hot as hell.

I want to feel him come.

His teeth sink into my neck. That, too, hurts just enough to feel good.

A few more thrusts and he's there, groaning against my skin as he comes.

He holds me for a moment. Our bodies are pressed together. It's intimate in a different way, overwhelming in a different way.

I take deep breaths, trying to process the experience. I had sex with Miles. Lost my virginity to him.

It's real. Adult. Dangerous.

He presses his lips to mine then untangles our bodies and takes care of the condom.

I sink into the bed. I had sex with Miles. It really happened.

The weight on the bed shifts as he brings his body next to mine. He slides his arms around me and pulls me close.

This still feels intimate.

There are no pretenses. I can't remember the last time I spent this long with my guard down.

His lips press against my neck and I lose track of conscious thought.

It's not really safe, his arms, but it feels like it. It's comfortable.

A few more minutes and I'll figure this out. A few more minutes and I'll get into my pajamas. Just a few minutes…