CHAPTER ONE
The line for the bathroom snakes around the corner. It's flat-out irresponsible—hosting a hundred-person party and making all but one bathroom off-limits. People have to pee.
The living room is still throbbing with beautiful people dancing, grinding, flirting. Kara must know where the other bathroom is. Wherever she is.
I push through the crowd, but there's no sign of my best friend.
Someone bumps into me, her hip pressing firmly against my pelvis.
Screw upstairs being off-limits. This isn't a church. It’s a band's Hollywood mansion. I'm not about to pee my pants respecting the sanctity of rock stars' bedrooms.
I sneak to the second floor. All the noise from the party is just as loud here—a mix of music and muffled voices.
The long hallway has five identical doors. I scan the wall, trying to figure out which is attached to the smallest room. There. Second on the left. That must be it.
I turn the knob and push the door open.
Not a bathroom.
Definitely not a bathroom.
There are two people in here. They're tangled on the bed. The woman on all fours. The man kneeling behind her.
They're naked.
They're having sex.
His gaze goes to me. There's no sign of embarrassment or awkwardness on his face. He's totally unmoved.
The woman shrieks and scrambles off the bed, pulling a sheet over her chest.
"Miles, you fucker. I told you I don't do threesomes!"
I try to move, but my legs aren't cooperating. It's like a fiery train wreck. I can't bring myself to look away.
He's still kneeling on the bed. Wearing nothing but a condom. I scan his body for a split second. It's enough to register all the important details. He's tall, broad shoulders and chest, sculpted abs, and below his bellybutton...
He's hard.
He's hard and he's huge.
A blush spreads across my checks. I stammer, attempting and failing to speak. I've never seen that before. Not in person. In movies, sure. Textbooks, of course.
But never in person.
The guy, Miles, makes eye contact. He's completely unaffected. "You mind?"
I take a step back. My legs are finally bending to my will. "Excuse me. I thought this was the bathroom."
"Next door on the left."
I know I’m red. Beet red. "Thanks."
I pull the door closed so I'm alone in the hallway. Next door on the left.
I step into the bathroom, lock the door, and die of embarrassment.
***
It takes twenty minutes for my cheeks to return to a normal color. I slink back to the main room and do my best to blend in. The main room is huge with tall ceilings and a curving staircase against the wall. Every foot is covered with people drinking, dancing, or flirting.
I find an empty corner. Only, there's a couple sucking face next to me, not at all bothered by their recently acquired audience. If anything, they’re going at it faster and harder, like they're getting off on me watching.
I scan the room for a better hiding place. Something else catches my eyes. Miles is leaning against the wall, flirting with someone. Not the woman he was screwing upstairs, but a completely different person. This one is thin with impossibly large breasts and impossibly red hair.
His eyes catch mine and stay there. He's staring right at me, smiling. Heat spreads across my cheeks. I’m blushing. It's as bad as it was before. My head fills with the image of him naked, as unfazed as the couple dry-humping next to me.
Why did I let Kara talk me into coming to this party?#p#分页标题#e#
I push my way through the crowd, trying to get as far away from Miles's gaze as possible. There. I stop at the mostly empty kitchen. There must be something worth drinking in this huge, stainless steel fridge.
"You're not big on respecting people's privacy, huh?"
There's a voice behind me. No mistaking it. The same voice I heard upstairs. That must be Miles.
I turn. Yep. Miles. His features shine in the light. He has a strong jaw and messy brown hair. His eyes are a gorgeous blue. I couldn't see them in his room, but here, they're clear as day. They're fixed on me, staring at me, picking me apart.
"Actually, I'm not big on alcohol or soda," I say. "You have anything else to drink?"
He reaches past me. His hand brushes against my shoulder as he pulls open the fridge. He nods to a row of water bottles on the middle shelf. "Help yourself."
I grab a bottle of water and hold it against my chest. Something to cool me down. Miles looks so familiar. And his voice is familiar too. Almost like he...
No way. That's not possible.
There's no way this guy is the vocalist of Sinful Serenade, the guy who sings In Pieces, the guy who’s been haunting my thoughts for the last two months with his breathy, tortured voice.
That guy does not plow through groupies.
"Thank you," I say. "I'm sorry about before. I really was looking for the bathroom."