Aimee and the Heartthrob (12 page)

Oh man, yummy yummy boy smell
. She fought the urge to lean over and stick her nose to the side of his neck. “So, you come on this bus a lot?”

“Just if Mum’s working back here when we’re on the road,” he said, “since she’s not allowed on
The One
.”

Aimee nodded and they sat for a moment, just watching the city lights as they flashed by. Miles’s leg adjusted to lean against hers and he didn’t move it away. The contact sent a zap of heat up her body, settling in her chest and at the nape of her neck. After a few minutes, the bus stopped rocking so much, which meant they’d reached the freeway.

“I actually wanted to play you something,” he said.

“On the piano?” She cocked an eyebrow.

He laughed under his breath, looking so cute. “It’s not that song, but it’s the same tune. Do you want to hear it?”

“You’re going to sing a cappella?”

“Nope.” He stood and moved to a stand-up closet by the door she hadn’t noticed. “We keep these stashed everywhere,” he said, pulling out a guitar. He sat beside her and strummed a few chords, adjusting the tuning knobs on the end of the neck. He had such nice hands. They were man hands, not those of a seventeen-year-old. They looked strong and capable and skilled.

Aimee flushed again, unable to stop looking at his hands, thinking about his hands.

“So…” He strummed. “I changed the lyrics.”

She rotated on the couch to face him, while Miles sang his new song, the same tune as “On the Piano,” but slower, soulful, deeper. The words weren’t silly anymore; they were sexy and romantic, saying things Aimee would love a boy to say to her for real.

“Never knew it could happen so fast, you’ve pulled me from reality

The air is thick, and my breath is weak, every second, so easily

When did I fall for you?

When did all the dreams of finding you come true?

I’m captured by your eyes and your arms, open to me

The beauty of your smile, it haunts me all the while

Every time I close my eyes, every time I breathe your name

You’re all I ever see.”

It was a love letter of music, and the thought that maybe these lyrics were about her, too, made Aimee tingle all over. “That was incredible,” she said in a quiet voice, afraid to disturb the mood. “I thought you wrote the piano song just yesterday.”

“I did.”

“So you took these lyrics from another one?”

He strummed. “No, I wrote them tonight before the show.”

“When?”

“Um.” He rubbed his jaw, now speckled with the beginnings of a sexy twelve o’clock shadow. “When Lori was doing my hair, I guess.”

“Miles, I hate to break it to you, but you’re an amazing writer.”

He smiled sheepishly and dipped his chin. “You think so?”

“Are you kidding? If a boy ever said words like that to me, I’d…” She fanned her face.

“You’d what?” He leaned forward. “Come on, you have to finish that sentence.”

“Well, let’s just say, he wouldn’t get through much of the second verse because I’d tackle his ass to the ground.”

Miles’s eyebrows shot up. “Nice to know.” He grinned and stroked his chin between two long fingers. “Shall I play it for you again? Slower this time?”

Aimee shoved his arm. “Anyway. What I meant was you hit all the right buttons with this song. It gave me chills.” She showed her arm, still tingling with goose bumps. “See?”

Miles was looking at her arm, but then his gaze slid up to her eyes. A charge in the air sparked between them, and Aimee dropped her arm.

He leaned the guitar against the wall, slouched down on the couch, rested his head back, and stretched out his legs, crossing his arms across his chest. “Hey.” He tipped his chin to look up at her. “Check out the view.”

Aimee slouched down beside him, moving a bit closer than she had been when he’d first sat. With their heads lower on the couch, they could actually see the horizon out the back of the bus. The farther they got from the city lights, the more stars appeared.

“Wow, it’s really beautiful.”

“Yeah.” Miles’s voice was low, peaceful, like he was comfortable and drowsy. For a while, they stared out the back of the bus, pointing at different sights to share. A few miles later, it started to rain, causing the stars in the sky to go blurry like a Monet painting.

“You should write a song about this,” Aimee said.

“There hasn’t been a good road-trip-in-the-rain-on-a-bus song in way too long.”

“Shut up,” she said, laughing.

“Maybe I could sell it to a country singer. Sounds right up their alley. Would probably make a lot more sense, actually.” He rolled his head to look at her and gave her shoulder a nudge. “Good idea, Ames.”

Her heart sputtered at the sound of her nickname. No one besides her family called her Ames. But it sounded so natural coming from Miles. Not that he was like a brother, but like they were…close.

“Would you ever write for other singers?” she asked, wondering if he couldn’t tell she was struggling to breathe normally.

“Absolutely. It’s what I see myself doing in the long run, if the band ever takes a break or completely goes away.” He exhaled tranquilly and rolled his head so it touched hers.

“S2J is breaking up?”

He laughed quietly. “No, but it will someday, or something else will happen. I love being on stage with these four eegits, and I’d do it forever if I could. But writing, it’s something I can do without having to travel the rest of my life.”

“You mean, you don’t want to always be touring? You could see yourself staying in one place for a while?”

“Oh yeah. I totally miss Pacific Pali, Mum’s house, just hanging out like a normal guy with normal friends. I’ve been thinking about college. I can start applying next year.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“UCLA. No question.”

Aimee couldn’t believe it. Never in her wildest, giddiest fantasy dreams did she imagine Miles would actually come home, be in the same town as her again. Those fears of falling for him and then being left behind were starting to fade.

“I’ll major in something creative. But not music.”

“Why not?”

She felt him shrug, his left shoulder pressing against her right shoulder as it came back down. She wanted to scoot closer, feel the whole side of his body against hers. “To give my freakishly huge guitar hands a break for a while,” he suggested with a laugh. “I’ve got some wicked callouses. Let me see yours.” He picked up her hand and slowly flipped it over.

Aimee felt a slow burn crawl across her skin at his touch, and she was sure he felt her shaking.

“Yeah, your hands are unblemished.” He ran a finger over her palm, over the pad of her index finger. “Soft and perfect.”

His finger traced a circle across the inside of her wrist and continued up her arm, causing more delicious burning goose bumps than when he’d sang to her. When he got to the inside of her elbow, his fingers left her arm and moved to her face, her cheek. He rolled his head so he was facing her. Aimee did the same, and his big strong hand cupped her cheek as they sat almost nose to nose.

And then the world, her whole entire world, exploded when Miles kissed her.

…

Her skin was softer than he’d imagined. He hadn’t meant to touch more than the tips of her fingers, but suddenly his hand had a mind of its own, and a need of its own. He had to explore more. Before he knew it, touching her with his hand wasn’t enough.

He kissed her once, but it didn’t feel real, like it was an out-of-body experience happening to two different people. He’d imagined what it would be like to kiss Aimee probably only a thousand times in the past week, but he hadn’t actually planned it.

He ended the kiss and rested his forehead against hers, unable to open his eyes yet. Had he totally shattered their brand-new, fragile friendship by giving in to his hormones? His hand remained on her cheek, unmoving, waiting. Until her soft, delicate hand encircled his wrist.

No more waiting. He kissed her again, wondering if she was feeling what he was. If her heart was pounding like the heavy beat of a bass drum, too. Was he the only one lightheaded and hearing a buzz in his ears?

Other than their lips and hands, there was no contact. No tongues, no necks, no grabbing at each other’s clothes in a frenzy. They just kissed, mouth on mouth.

Simple.

Yet somehow, it was mind-blowing.

Because…he was kissing Aimee Bingham.

He should say something, tell her what he was feeling, what he’d been feeling for the last few days. He should tell her she inspired him and moved him and made him feel more sure of himself than he ever had, made him feel like the guy he used to be, the guy he wanted to be.

If he couldn’t think of anything on his own, he could quote lines from his favorite Prince song, tell her how his stomach trembled, that she had his butterflies all tied up.

But he just kissed her.

He might keep kissing her forever, not thinking about the consequences or meaning behind anything. She tasted so good and felt so warm, she filled his head to the brink, and when she shifted closer, his brain emptied, and he went spiraling.

“We’re here, so break it up.
Miles
.”

He heard the other voice, but the one that registered was Aimee’s when she gasped and pulled away from him. Miles opened his eyes, focusing on her first. Her lips were red and wet, but the look in her eyes made him blink and refocus at where she was staring.

LJ stood at the open door. When had the bus stopped? And how long had they been kissing? Time and the world had completely slipped away.

“LJ. Hey.” He glanced at Aimee, who was staring down at the floor, blushing up a storm. She looked so sexy that he wanted to lean over to kiss her again. But that probably wouldn’t be wise.

“Um,” she said, barely making eye contact with him. “I’m gonna go get my stuff.”

Miles smiled, which luckily made her smile, a little, but mostly, she just shot out of the back room of that bus faster than a bullet. Miles watched her leave, trying not to grin, trying not to want to follow her.

“What was that?” LJ eyed him.

Miles shrugged. “Nothing. She’s cool.”

“It’s not a good idea.”

As far as Miles was concerned, it had been a bloody brilliant idea, and years overdue.

“Do you want the same thing to happen as last time?” LJ said. “Wait—correction, the last
two
times?”

Miles’s abs clenched. He didn’t need bloody Lester to give him a rundown of what a disaster his last two girlfriends had turned into. Tweets, viral retweets, screen shots, and tell-all books in print don’t go away. What Kelly and Paige told the world about their relationships would be a permanent fixture in his life.

“It’s not like that,” he said. “Aimee wouldn’t do that to me.”

“Everyone’s capable,” LJ said. “Especially if she’s not in the business. She’d have no idea how to handle herself if the press got ahold of her.”

“The press?” Miles hadn’t thought about that, or thought anything through, really. All he’d known was he had to see her after the show and then needed to kiss her before his head exploded. Nothing else mattered.

“We talked about this again after the Paige incident. No girlfriends.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Miles, man. You know what I mean. This has nightmare written all over it. That’s why we decided, we
all
decided, remember? Repeat after me: no girlfriends.”

They’d been through this before. It was every young band’s tried and true defense against messy rumors and tabloids: it’s better for the reputation of Seconds to Juliet if every member gave the illusion he was single.

It seemed so stupid at the time when they’d discussed it two years ago, but after his exes, Miles saw the logic. Aimee would never betray him like that, though. She didn’t want him because he was famous.

Besides that, they’d known each other forever. She was his best friend’s little…

Oh, bloody effing hell. Nick. Miles had managed to block that whole side of the equation out of his mind. Nick—his best mate—would slaughter him.

“Yeah,” Miles finally said to LJ, rubbing his forehead. “I hear ya.”

“So you’ll stop pursuing her? Now?”

He was getting really sick of everyone telling him to stay away from Aimee Bingham. But he nodded, just as a knot formed in his stomach.

“Good man.” LJ patted him on the back. “The rest of the band is already upstairs. You guys have the twenty-ninth floor. Go grab some sleep if you can. Tomorrow’s a helluva day.”

He nodded again. “Okay.”

Chapter Eleven

Aimee didn’t think she’d ever live down the humiliation. It was like being caught by her dad. No, worse—Miles’s dad, who already knew something about her she wished he didn’t. After she left the bus, did LJ tell Miles what she’d said to Becky?

Her cheeks burned uncontrollably as she waited for the elevator in the hotel lobby. She found out from Deb that the buses had been in the back parking lot for half an hour before LJ had gone looking for Miles.

Totally humiliating. They’d been so caught up in kissing that they hadn’t even noticed. Where had her head been?

She knew exactly where it had been. Because Miles had it in the palm of his hand. She sighed and let her eyes flutter closed, recalling the feeling of his warm hand cradling her cheek, the first time his lips touched hers. The second time…

Whoa… Her knees wobbled just as the elevator slid open.

“Hold the doors!”

Aimee shot out an arm to keep them from closing. And then her heart stopped all over again when Miles trotted in.

“Oh,” he said. “Hey.”

She wanted a pause button. She wasn’t ready to see him again after the embarrassing encounter with LJ. Yet she was almost giddy to see him now. Embarrassed or giddy? Which should she be?

“Hey.” She glanced at him, then down at the floor as the doors closed, sealing them in the elevator alone.

“So, that was awkward,” he said.

She laughed under her breath. “Mildly. I think I’ve died a thousand deaths in the last five minutes.”

The musical sound of Miles’s laugh made her heart skip. “Sorry about that. I guess I should’ve been paying attention to when the bus stopped.”

“Same here.”

He turned to her. “But I’m glad I wasn’t. Thoroughly worth every single second.” When their gazes locked, she wanted to slide into his blue eyes and melt. “But it probably shouldn’t happen again.”

Hold that melting. “Oh, um, yeah.” She tucked some hair behind an ear and crossed her arms, wanting the floor to open up and swallow her whole. “Totally not. Never again.”

“You know why, right?”

Aimee cleared her throat to make sure her voice was steady before she replied. “Yeah, it’s because you’re Miles Carlisle, and I’m nobody.”

“Nobody?” His voice was low, and he sounded wounded. “Aimee…”

Before he could finish, the elevator doors opened. “This is my floor, so…” She stepped out but turned back in time to see Miles catch the doors before they closed. They popped open and he leaped out.

“Let’s go,” he said, taking her hand. Aimee didn’t think, just followed as he pulled her down the hall. There were a few people from the tour, but Miles kept his head down and led them around a corner to the door of the stairwell. He pushed it open, held it ajar with his shoulder, and pulled Aimee in.

Once the door shut behind them, the empty cement stairwell was dark except for the glowing green exit sign. Miles dropped her hand and stepped back, leaning against the wall, looking down, creating purposeful space between them.

She couldn’t read his expression, couldn’t figure out why he’d brought her here, to this dark, deserted spot, if not to continue their kiss.

But hadn’t he just said it shouldn’t happen again? Her mind spun, and it was torturous to look at him and not be able to kiss him or touch him, run her fingers through his hair. She’d wanted to, like crazy, since she was eleven years old.

“Sorry,” he finally said. “What I said back there came out wrong.”

“Did you get in trouble?”

He shrugged. “A little. But LJ’s cool; it’s not like he can tell me who I can or can’t make out with.”

Aimee knew her cheeks were probably bright red, and she tried really hard not to hyperventilate.

“But we do kind of have this rule in the band—which I’ve broken twice.”

“Rule?”

“No girlfriends.” He met her eyes for a quick second. “We’re supposed to be single. It’s part of our image, which is complete bullshit, I realize, but LJ and our PR team, they know what they’re doing.” He sighed and slumped against the wall. “I should’ve listened to them before.”

“You mean with Kelly?”

“You know about that?” When she didn’t reply, he looked away. “Shit, of course you know. It was bloody everywhere last year.”

“Most of your fans took your side.”

“Like that matters. It just burns, ya know? I totally trusted her. I thought I was in love.”

A fist squeezed her heart. “But you weren’t?”

He shook his head. “How could I’ve been? She used me and I had no idea. I was completely blind.”

She reached out and touched his arm, she couldn’t help it. “That’s not your fault.”

He looked at her, then down at her hand touching him. She drew it away and stepped back. “Maybe not,” he said. “But I swore it would never happen again. And it did. It’s like I only attract girls who want to use me.”

Aimee couldn’t help laughing. “Miles, you attract every girl on the planet.”

“
Every
girl?” He cocked an eyebrow, almost smiling.

She felt another deep blush coming on. “You know what I mean.”

He dropped his chin, looking at the ground again. She could tell he needed to talk more, so she waited until he was ready. “But that isn’t what I was talking about before,” he finally said. “Why it shouldn’t happen again. The kissing. Me wanting to kiss you all the time.”

Everything he said made her want to close her eyes and replay his words like a song on repeat.

“It’s Nick,” he said. “I told you before—”

“Nick’s acting like the chaperone from hell,” Aimee cut in. “He can’t tell me what to do.”

“Maybe not, but he can tell
me
what to do. There’s a code.”

She rolled her eyes. Again with the stupid code. What was the deal with that?

“It might not seem important to you, but it’s very important to me. He’s my best friend. I owe him everything, Aimee.” He glanced away and shook his head. “You have no idea.”

“Actually,” she said in a quiet voice, “I do.” When he looked at her, his pained, almost helpless expression made her swallow hard. “Just the other day, at the last hotel, Nick told me how you guys met. The trouble you got into when you were a little kid.”

“It wasn’t just kid stuff trouble. I was on a path of self-destruction and didn’t even know it.”

“Miles, you were twelve.”

“Yeah, but the guys I rolled with weren’t, and they had older brothers—I think they thought of me as their
mascot
or something. They were tough, and I was lost, hurting. The shit we did, I thought it would make the hurt stop. Seems absurd now to think that a kid my age could live that kind of life. They gave me beer, thought it was hilarious when I used the bong.” He shook his head. “I have no idea where I’d be if I hadn’t met Nick. No, actually, I know
exactly
where I’d be. I’d be dead.”

A shiver ran down Aimee’s spine, thinking of Miles, so young and lost, needing friends who loved him, not a bunch of mean druggies.

“I sometimes think some of that self-destruction is still in me.”

“Why do you say that?” she asked, even though Nick had warned her of the same thing.

“I knew it wasn’t a good idea to hook up with Kelly or Paige. Everyone warned me, but I thought I was right and wanted to prove I was invincible and in control. I’m famous so nothing bad can happen.” He laughed darkly. “After what I’ve done, maybe that’s the only kind of love I deserve.”

That fist around her heart squeezed again, making her whole chest ache. “Miles.” She stepped up to him and touched his arm again, curling her hand around his elbow. He was still looking down, so she reached out and took his chin.

“Aimee, we can’t—”

“I’m not going to kiss you,” she said, even though she wanted to. Right now, a kiss wasn’t what the boy standing in front of her needed. Instead, she leaned in and wrapped her arms around him.

…

Miles forgot how to breathe. Emotions raged in a jumble through his body as Aimee—so warm and soft—pressed against him, making his mind go blank. She rested her head on his shoulder, her tall body fitting into him perfectly. He placed his hands on her sides, not knowing what else to do with them, until they slid around her back.

When she sighed against him, his entire body pooled with heat, every hair stood at attention. He should’ve let go, he should’ve disentangled himself, pushed her away, and got the hell out of that dark stairwell. But he couldn’t.

“You deserve the best, Miles.” Her voice was a soft caress, like the rest of her.

He couldn’t reply, he just held her, pulled her closer until she hooked her chin over his shoulder. She smelled sunny and sweet and felt even better. Her hand stroked the back of his neck, causing his core to coil tight like a spring, his head to fill with helium.

“You do,” she said.

“Aimee.” He touched her hair, silky between his fingers. He couldn’t breathe properly while holding her like this. If he didn’t put space between their bodies, he would forget every single one of his promises.

With all his strength, he pulled away, putting a good foot between them.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her brown eyes, long lashes, blinking up at him.

He dropped his chin and laughed. “Other than needing to dunk myself in ice, sure, I’m ducky.” When she leaned forward, he put his hands on her arms and pushed her back another few inches. “Just… I can’t think straight with you this close to me.”

She grinned in the darkness. “Oh, yeah?”

“Aimee…” He felt the need to groan, and when she groaned instead, it made him want to laugh and kiss her. Kiss her so damn hard and never stop. Everything she did, every move of her body and sound from her mouth made him want to kiss her. “I think we’d better get out of here. Let me check first.” He opened the door a crack, to see if the hallway was empty. He spotted a few tech guys at the other end.

If they had been up on his floor, they wouldn’t have to be as careful about running into anyone besides LJ—anyone like Nick, for example. But he couldn’t think about Nick now; he’d figure out what to tell him later. Stray reporters and photographers were notorious for talking their way upstairs, though usually not all the way up to the floor of S2J; Beau had that locked down pretty tight.

The second the coast was clear, he reached behind him into the stairwell, more than ecstatic when Aimee took his hand. “Ready?” he whispered.

“Where are we going?”

He looked over his shoulder at her and placed a finger over his lips. She grinned and nodded. He pulled her out into the hall, then the two of them took off at a run, hand in hand. The elevator was all the way at the other end. He heard her breathy laugh behind him as she gripped his hand with both of hers. They were almost halfway there when a door a few feet away flew open.

Miles hooked an arm around Aimee’s waist and pulled her into the vending machine alcove, sliding them into the tiny cutout between the ice maker and a loud, ancient Coke machine. The person was coming right toward them, so Miles backed Aimee into the wall, and when she started to giggle, he gently placed a hand over her mouth.

Whoever it was wasn’t after ice, just a soda, though Miles hardly noticed that. What fixated him was the touch of Aimee’s lips against the palm of his hand. Her mouth was warm and her brown eyes were huge, looking up at him, making his own mouth go dry.

When it was clear the person was gone, he slid his hand off her mouth. Her lips slowly peeled apart, and he had to wait a beat for his head to stop spinning. “I think it’s safe now,” he whispered.

They trotted the rest of the way to the elevator bay. Miles pushed the button and the doors opened immediately.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked, once they were inside.

“To the top floor. It’ll be safer there. Less foot traffic and prying eyes.”

“Sounds good.” She glanced at him. “I meant what I said before.”

“About what?”

She twisted her lips. “The mistakes you made in the past don’t matter. You deserve the best. Never forget that.”

He looked into her eyes, wanting to touch her so badly that his muscles ached like he’d just finished a grueling workout. “You’re amazing, Aimee Bingham.”

She blinked at him, looking startled.

“What?”

“Um, nothing.” She put her hands behind her back and looked away. “I’ve kind of always dreamed about you saying that to me.”

Their eyes met across the tiny elevator, barely room enough for them to have their own personal space. Miles licked his lips and held his breath, knowing he shouldn’t say what he was about to. “What else have you dreamed about me doing to you, Aimee?”

Her cheeks immediately turned that adorable, inviting, irresistible pink. And Miles couldn’t resist.