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And suddenly, this chat with the band is the most boring conversation I've ever been a part of.
* * *
We take a cab to my place, touching instead of talking.
He trails his fingers over my thighs, all the way under my skirt and so, so close, but not quite where they need to be.
My body is at war with my heart. His hands feel so good. His breath feels so good. Hell, his words feel so good, so perfect, so easy.
He wants me. Maybe this is the only way he'll ever want me. Maybe this is as good as it's ever going to get.
But I made our terms for a reason. No secrets, no lies. He's keeping a secret from me.
I can't have that. Not after everything with Rosie.
No matter how badly my body is screaming, begging my brain to take a hike for the rest of the evening, I can't give in.
He slides his hand under the fabric of my top. All that heat rushes through me. I can't bring myself to ask him to stop. I can't even admit I might need him to stop.
Instead I close my eyes and surrender to the sensation he stirs inside me. His hands belong on my body. His lips belong on my skin. It feels so good, the two of us together.
I don't want to give it up.
But I might have to. He gets one chance to tell me the truth. That's it.
The car stops. Dammit. We're parked outside my apartment. No more of this. We have to step back into the ugly world, and I have to demand an explanation.
Miles pays the cabbie and escorts me to my apartment. The elevator feels tiny. The hallway feels tinier. The key is slippery in my hands, and my legs have never felt more wobbly.
We step inside my apartment. Miles presses the door closed behind me. He takes my hands, pulls them over my head, and pins me to the door.
His body is heavy against mine. His kiss is hot, needy. Like this is more than sex to him.
Like he needs more than my body.
Miles tugs my skirt down to my knees. He drags his hand to my thighs.
No teasing this time. He strokes me over my panties.
"I need you." He tugs at my top and pulls it off my arms.
I'm pressed against the door, almost naked, and he's still wearing all his clothes.
He still has all the cards.
I break his grasp, plant on the bed, and wrap a sheet around my chest.
Miles stares into my eyes. "Megan."
"It's Megara. Not Megan. It's right on my driver's license. And, no, it's not from the Disney movie. It's a mythology thing."
"You have a driver's license?"
"Yeah."
"You never drive."
"Not really the point."
