Aimee and the Heartthrob (13 page)

Chapter Twelve

Before she could answer the question, Miles took her face between his hands. At first he just gazed at her, his swoony blue eyes drilling deep into hers, his thumbs stroking across her cheeks.

Holy moly, if she hadn’t been butt-crazy about him before…

If she’d tried, she could have stopped him—and definitely
should
have. After all, she didn’t want to cause a rift between Miles and Nick.

But more than that, more than anything else besides maybe possibly oxygen, she needed to kiss him.

A second later, all her silly, girlish daydreams ignited. This kiss was nothing like that two-hour lip lock on the bus. Miles’s hands slid through her hair, his mouth hot and urgent over hers. She held onto his sides, feeling the muscles contract as she fisted his shirt. His arms went around her, holding her against him so tight, she lost her breath.

If the elevator doors hadn’t opened just then, Aimee might’ve never breathed again.

He broke the kiss and touched his forehead to hers. “Our stop,” he said, breathing hard.

“So it is.”

“If we get off here, I’ll want to take you to my room.”

The simple words caused Aimee’s heart to slam against her ribs. She wanted to be alone with Miles, more than living or breathing or stupid oxygen. She’d loved him for as long as she could remember…even when she’d hated his guts.

But she knew what he’d meant. And suddenly, she felt about nine years old, so not ready to be alone with a boy in his hotel room.

Instead of hopping out of the elevator, Miles put an arm around her and stepped them back, letting the doors slide closed. He ran a hand down her arm then laced their fingers. “I don’t think we’re ready for that.”

She exhaled the breath she’d been holding and rested her forehead against his shoulder. “Thanks,” she said, feeling his body shake with a laugh.

“Since we can’t stay in this elevator, and I’m not about to offer to walk you to
your
room, you know what that means, right?” He pinched her chin. “We’re going to have to hide out all night.”

“From who? Nick?”

Miles nodded and pressed a button. “The crew works all hours. Never know who might be roaming the halls. Our security, too. They’ll run right to LJ. And paparazzi are always lurking around corners.”

“Pictures?” Her breath froze mid-inhale. She hadn’t really worried about Nick, but this… “They’ll take pictures of me? Of us? Miles, my father will kill you if there’re pix of you and me at a hotel in the middle of the night.”

He moved to stand behind her and reached around, running his hand over her stomach, whispering into her hair. “That’s why we have to be smarter and more cunning than everyone.”

His warm hand holding her against him made her almost forget something she’d been meaning to say. “It, um, might be too late for that.”

“You sound worried,” he said, pulling her back against him.

She looked straight ahead at their reflection in the elevator doors. Miles wrapped around her like a man-sized coat, his face buried in her hair. “The other day, LJ overheard me talking to Becky, and I…I’m sorry, but I said some stuff—stuff I didn’t mean.”

He lifted his chin and looked at her reflection. “Did you call me an assjacket again? I gotta say, it sounds like a compliment coming from you.”

“No, not that.” She sucked in a deep breath, blew it out, then turned to face him. “I said you’re cocky, and that you think you’re God’s gift, and that you wear too much product in your hair.” She bit her lip. “I’m sorry.”

Miles stared at her for a second, then burst out laughing.

“You’re not mad?” Her stomach still knotted with worry.

“I’ve been accused of worse.” He slid a hand to the side of her neck, causing her pulse to jump. “Deny it all you want, but I know you love my hair.”

“Forget the apology.” Aimee rose up on her toes and ran the tip of her nose over his. “I stand by the cocky.”

When the elevator stopped, Miles poked his head out first then waved her forward into the hallway. “Ready to go stealth?”

“Oh, yeah. I was queen at hide-and-seek.”

His half-cocked grin as his eyes swept up her body made her head go fuzzy. “You’re so my kind of girl, Aimee.”

She might hold those words in her heart for the rest of her life.

The hallway was brightly lit but empty. Looking out the windows, she could tell they were on the first floor. “Where are we supposed to go now?”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I was running around a stage for two hours tonight, then snogging a seriously hot girl in the back of a bus for another two hours.” He put a hand on her cheek that was probably bright red. “So obviously, I’m about to die of starvation.”

“Food?” She glanced over his shoulder. “Is there a restaurant?”

“Probably. But I’m sure it’s closed.”

“Okay.” She felt her brows wrinkle. “So…”

He smiled and took her hand, tugging her forward. “So, we sneak in the back.”

Shoulder to shoulder, they walked down a long maze of halls, stopping every now and then when one of them thought they heard a sound. After a while, it seemed like it was more of an excuse for Miles to pull her into any dark crevice they came to, giving her the sweetest, quickest kisses before continuing along.

Finally, they got to the hallway behind the banquet rooms. “This will eventually lead to the kitchen. There,” he whispered, pointing to a white door with a small, square window.

“How can you tell?”

“I’ve been in dozens of hotels, and I’m almost always hungry in the middle of the night.” With their hands linked, he patted his deliciously flat stomach. “I’m a growing boy.”

Aimee exhaled a quiet giggle. “And they just let you rummage through their fridges?”

“Of course not. That’s where my ninja training comes in.” He squeezed her hand, put an index finger over his mouth, then led them forward. When they got to the door, he stopped and placed his ear against it to hear the other side. “Yeah, there’s definitely peanut butter in there.” Aimee giggled again. The door was unlocked, and Miles cocked an eyebrow as he pushed it open. “See? Two mini-tours worth of kitchen-raiding experience. After you, Queen of Hide-and-Seek.”

It was dark and quiet, so Aimee walked in without fear of getting caught. “Anyone home?” she said tentatively.

Miles laughed behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, steering her toward a large stainless steel refrigerator in the corner. “This way to nosh, woman.”

“Are you always so pushy when you’re hungry?”

He kissed her ear, and Aimee closed her eyes, memorizing the delicious way he made her skin feel like it was on fire.

“Always.”

“Well then.” She pulled open the fridge. “Let’s see what we have here to feed one starving heartthrob.”

“Bloody hell. Please don’t call me that.”

She twirled around. “You don’t like it?”

“About as much as I enjoy people staring at my face on the side of a bus.”

“I don’t think it’s your
face
people are staring at.” She pressed both hands over his chest, loving that she could feel his heartbeat. “At least that’s not what
I
stare at.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Aimee Bingham. You’re eleven years old in pigtails.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “You’re not supposed to talk like that.” He kissed the other corner.

When his nose went tracing down her cheek and her knees were about to give way—along with the rest of her—she said, “Food. You need food.”

Miles pulled back. “Yes, food.” He cleared his throat. “Very good.”

…

Why had he brought up food in the first place? Because if he hadn’t, he might’ve hoisted her on top of the long butcher-block island and showed her exactly what a hungry heartthrob could do.

But this was Aimee. The girl who’d been in his life for so many years, it was like she’d always been there…tucked inside his heart, waiting for him to be ready.

“You said you wanted peanut butter? And grab that milk.” She pointed inside the fridge.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Aimee found some bread and a knife and two glasses, and had them spread across the butcher-block table, the one he’d just imagined spreading
her
across. He swallowed and attempted to cool himself down, pressing the jug of milk to his chest and taking in a slow breath, trying not to stare at her long legs but doing a pretty crap job.

“So, tell me more about this crush,” he said.

Aimee was scooping out jam when the knife froze midair. “Crush?”

“Yeah.” He leaned a hip against the island and smiled. “The crush you have on me.”

“
Used
to have.”

He snickered and reached out to push a lock of hair out of her eyes. “Ah, so what was all that in the bus, then? And in the elevator, the electrical closet, behind the—”

“Fine.” She dropped her gaze to the table. “I guess it’s rekindled lately.”

“Since when?”

She shrugged and sucked in her bottom lip. Miles wished he was the one sucking her lip, but he kept busy by pouring the milk. When his trembling hands clinked the glasses together, they both froze at the loud sound it made.

“Maybe you should keep it down,” she whispered.

“I know an excellent way to stop us from talking.” He grinned at the blush that marbled her neck and cheeks.

She pushed a sandwich his way. “Eat.”

Miles chuckled under his breath and picked it up. It was good. Of course he was famished and there wasn’t much you could do to ruin a PB&J, but after the first bite, with Aimee’s eyes on him, he didn’t think he’d tasted a better sandwich in all his life.

“Mmm,” he said.

“You like it?”

“It’s spectacular.”

“You’re
so
rock ‘n’ roll with your peanut butter.” She laughed, tore off a piece of her sandwich, and tossed it in her mouth. And so they stood, watching each other chew in the dim kitchen. Aimee was drinking more milk than eating, but then again, she hadn’t burned as much energy as he had. Miles finished before he’d even noticed.

“Open up.” Aimee held out a bite of her sandwich to him. He took it in his mouth, playfully nipping her finger. She giggled and hopped up to sit on the butcher-block table, tossing her hair back. “Here comes the choo-choo,” she said, offering him another bite. For the next few minutes, she fed him, pausing to lick jam off the tips of her fingers.

Miles stared, spellbound, feeling his pulse in all kinds of places besides his heart.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” she asked, about to take a drink of milk.

He moved to stand right in front of where she sat, his hands braced on the table on either side of her hips. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so completely sexy…as you…right now.”

Her glass hovered in front of her mouth.

A new hunger stirred in Miles’s stomach, causing his limbs to go temporarily weak, right before every muscle in his body flexed, preparing for action. “You better put that down, Aimee.” He eyed the glass.

“Why?”

He grabbed her around the waist, sliding her forward to the very edge of the table. She squealed and her glass went flying, shattering on the floor.

“How’s
that
for rock ‘n’ roll, baby?” He shut his eyes and kissed her, electricity shooting through his veins when her arms encircled him. He breathed her in, a perfume he couldn’t place—sweetness mixed with something richer, her warm skin filling his head, burning the back of his throat, like he’d be eternally parched. Her fingers combed through his hair and she wrapped her legs around him as he slid her off the table. Blinded by both passion and her dark hair tumbling forward over her shoulders, he hoisted her higher, holding her securely against him, feeling curves and skin.

“The glass,” she whispered, breaking their kiss.

His brain was full of cotton—Aimee-flavored cotton. “Glass?” He crashed his mouth over hers.

“I think someone’s coming.”

He kissed her neck, long and delicate. “I don’t care.”

She took his face between her hands and stared down at him, breathing hard through parted red lips, looking more damn beautiful than ever. “We have to go,” she mouthed. “Someone’s coming.”

The last thing he wanted was to get caught by LJ or Nick. So he swung them around until her back was pressed against the fridge, then he slowly released his grip, allowing her to slide off. They were nose to nose, hip to hip, in the dark, and Miles wasn’t sure he’d be able to move away.

Just then, a light went on in one of the other rooms. Aimee’s eyes went deer-in-the-headlights wide. Miles took her hand and they were out the door two seconds later. They ran aimlessly for a few minutes, cutting down halls, until they got to the middle of the hotel.

“Out there?” he said, pointing to the window. The lights inside the pool were illuminated, though the rest of the lamps surrounding the bungalow were out.

She grinned, still catching her breath. “Yeah.”

He opened the door and Aimee flew outside. By the time he caught up, she had one of her long arms stuck through the wrought iron fence, fingering the lock on the inside of the gate.

“Aimee,” he whispered. “If it’s locked, we can go somewhere—”

“Shhh. Almost got it.” A second later, she pushed the gate open.

“Impressive.”

“My grandma has the same kind of lock around her pool. I’ve picked it hundreds of times.”

“Didn’t know
you
were a juvenile delinquent, as well.” He smiled. “Nice to meet a kindred spirit.”

Off in the darkest corner was a little cabana under an arched roof. Miles led them there, pulling two padded lounge chairs together. He plopped down on one, stretched out his legs, and rested his arms behind his head. “Ahh. Relaxed at last. I might take a nap. Good night.” He shut his eyes and inhaled one loud, exaggerated snore. Then he cracked open an eye to find Aimee gaping at him, a little pout on her gorgeous mouth.

He grabbed her hand, tugging her down beside him. “Much,
much
better now,” he whispered, sliding an arm under her and pulling her against him so she was tucked against his chest. When she snuggled into him, he exhaled a happy moan into her hair.