Chapter 11

ELEVEN

MILES

T he day turned on its head when I went to see what was taking Braxton so long. When I rambled downstairs to find Aella on her knees in front of him, mouth sucking on his cock, I forgot every single jealous thought I'd had about the two of them. All I wanted was not to be on the sidelines.

I took the opportunity and ran with it.

After we finished, Brax cleaned her off, and then I helped her to the shower. All the while, she insisted she was fine and had a goofy grin. One filled with blissed-out tranquility.

When I get back to Braxton's room, he's got the same fucking smirk on his face.

"Did you get what I asked you for?" I ask, trying not to let the moment go to my head, as he is.

He clears his throat, his mind back on task immediately. "Yeah, it's all printed out and on my desk."

I nod and move to grab it.

"Do you think she's alright with what happened?" he asks, and I'm taken aback. I've never known him to be concerned about another person's feelings. It's not that he's an asshole. It's just how he operates. Dad always liked to say he was special. He sees the world as black and white. He sees through the bullshit.

"She was still smiling when I got her into the shower. I think she'll be fine," I say, moving for the stairs.

"Are we alright?" he asks next.

I stop, looking up the stairs, hand on the upward railing. "Why wouldn't we be fine? We've shared before."

When I turn back, he pins me with a look that says stop being an idiot. "She's different. If I can feel it, I know you can."

Also, there are the lingering feelings from a kiss we shared years ago, but we won't discuss that.

Never that .

I nod absently. "Yeah, I feel it. But she's a means to an end, right? We can have fun while she's here. But she'll be gone soon."

His head nods, but his eyes say he's already dug in. Not to hide in his lair but to her.

I turn, moving toward him, careful not to get within his safe space. "Hey, she can't stay here. You know that, right?"

He's bigger than I am—taller by an inch and massive—but sometimes, I still see the skinny, dirt-covered boy Dad had brought home one winter's day.

"I know that, Miles. I just…" he trails off, closing his eyes as he shoves his hands in his pockets. "I know. She's a means to an end. "

It's always easy to speak logically with Braxton. I used to hate it, but in times like these, I appreciate it.

When I return to my room, I find Aella sitting on the edge of the bed in a towel. As I approach, she smiles at me, something unsaid drifting through her eyes.

"I have nothing to wear." She giggles sheepishly.

"Well, I expected that. For now, you can wear these." I hand her a pile of clothes. "They're Whitney's. She's Kylo's girl. She stays in the clubhouse a lot with him and is always leaving shit behind. I'll take you to get some clothes once you're dressed."

She stands and drops the towel away after looking at me questioningly. Her body is curvy, and her stomach is something my teeth itch to sink into.

Her arms lift to cover her full breasts, and I swat them away. "Beautiful," I say huskily.

Her baby blues look up at me, pouty lips wet from her tongue sliding across them. All I can think about are those same lips wrapped around Braxton's dick. I hate myself because I don't hate the image.

My hands have a mind of their own, lifting and traveling over her breasts, her sides, her stomach, finally landing on her hips. "Fuck, how any man resisted you as long as that twat of a fiancé of yours did is one of the seven wonders, princess."

"But neither of you have…" she trails off as my eyes snap to hers.

"Neither of us has what?"

Say it, please say it .

It'll give me an opening to tell her how much I want to sink into her tight body and hear the noises she'll make as I fuck her slowly, pushing through the resistance I know she has inside her.

She shakes her head. "Nothing." Reaching behind her, she grabs for the leggings and shirt.

"No underwear?" she asks.

I grin ruefully. "I prefer you without them." When her cheeks flush, I chuckle. "I figured you didn't want to share hers, and I forgot to wash the clothes you dropped into my hamper."

She nods, shimmying the leggings over her hips before sliding into the shirt.

I open my phone as she looks at her feet. As I dial up Alice, I throw her a pair of sandals I'd found, hoping they'd fit. I'm unsure who they belong to, but she'll have her things soon.

"Hello, Oakwood Boutique, Alice speaking. How may I help you today?" Alice's customer service voice is on point today, and I smirk because I know she'd hate what I'd just thought.

"Hey, it's Miles. I need the boutique today. Private shopping spree," I tell her, and she doesn't hesitate to tell me she'll close right now.

There aren't many in the town who don't know who we are, nor many who haven't had to ask for a favor or two.

Alice is also my cousin, so she'll do whatever I ask within reason. Once, when we were children, I dared her to eat a frog, and she beat me over the head with a bucket full of sand instead. I still have the scar on my scalp that accompanies the memory.

"Alright, thanks. We'll see you soon," I say before hanging up.

Aella is gawking at me when I turn back around, absently touching the scar on my head. "What?"

"Private shopping spree? I have my clothes, you know. You could take me back h—" She clears her throat, likely thinking about what awaits her once she returns to the home she shares with her fiancé. Well, ex-fiancé. "Never mind. We riding the bike?"

I shake my head. "Nope. We're going to drive the truck."

Her eyes light. "Truck?"

"Come on, princess. Time to have a little fun."

We go out to the clubhouse, and I open the last bay.

Aella gasps as she comes into contact with my baby, a project of mine for the last five years since I found it at auction for a pretty fucking penny.

"What is it?" She runs her hand over the rounded hood, her fingers looking delicate against the bright red paint.

"1954 Chevrolet 3100," I tell her proudly. Its rounded fenders, hood, and five-bar horizontal grill mark it as one of the most sought-after trucks in America. I'd recently added a new paint job and leather to the interior seat.

The white-wall tires elevate the feel of the truck. It looks like something you'd see on Grease . It's easy to picture John Travolta leaning against it as he took in Sandy as she walked past .

"It's so cool!" Aella says, moving to the passenger door and opening it before I can do it for her.

She slides onto the seat and shuts the door, the sound of it slamming indicating its weight.

I smirk, getting into the driver's seat and cranking the engine.

The truck revs to life, and Aella slides into the middle, putting one leg toward mine so it doesn't knock into the gearshift on the floor. Now, I'll have to rest my arm on her thigh to shift, and it's going to be hard to think past how close her sweet center is to my hand as I'm driving.

It was wiser to take the truck since we'll have bags. But part of me had wanted to show it off. I don't know if it's because she's used to the luxury that I'd wanted to. Logically, she doesn't put off the vibe of someone who needs luxury to survive. If anything, she feels like a girl enamored by those who pay attention to her, not those who shower her with gifts.

I'm not going to lie; it's attracting me to her more.

Because it's fucking rare.

Pulling up behind Oakwood Boutique, I linger a little longer in the truck. I've already pulled the parking brake and shut off the engine. My hand is on Aella's thigh, fingers circling over the thin fabric she dons.

"What is it about you?" I ask no one at all. Honestly, I meant for it to remain in my head .

She clears her throat, just as affected as I am by our proximity. "What is it about you ?"

"When this is over, when you're back home, in your perfect world, will you regret what you've done with us?" I ask her, not knowing where the question came from.

"No," she answers immediately. "It's the first time I've let myself be free. Let myself do what I want to."

"Free of your royal duties, hm? Free to roam around with the peasants," I say absently, and she pushes my hand off her leg.

I look up at her. "What?"

"Don't be like that. Do I act like I'm any better than you? No. I don't, Miles. So what you just said was uncalled for."

She slides across the seat towards the other door, and it feels as if she's a million miles away.

I'm sorry.

It's stuck right on the tip of my tongue. Before I can say a thing, she huffs and gets out of the truck, waiting for me in front of it.

Fuck, now you've done it.

Guilt is an old bedfellow. As I get out and pocket the truck keys, I lead her into the store, where Alice waits to get her everything she needs.

Twin Pines is a small town with no chain stores, flashy people, or shops serving over-priced lattes. It's a town with two stoplights, stores that smell like cinnamon year round, and fall vibes, even in summer.

Aella's face transforms as she meets Alice. No doubt she veils her true feelings with the face she gives to the cameras back in her world. "Nice to meet you, I'm Aella."

Alice takes her in, sizing her up as she does every customer.

She shoos me away, and I'm thankful for the reprieve now that I've royally stepped in it with Aella. I need to think of a way to make it better. To get her alone for a moment to apologize.

The hurt that had been on her face when she looked up at me had stabbed me right through the chest. It hurt more than anything I've ever experienced.

Once Alice and Aella have perused the entire place twice, Alice leads her into a dressing room with all her finds.

I wait for Alice to get busy behind the front counter before I sneak into the dressing room, slipping through the curtains with stealth.

Aella curses under her breath when she turns around and sees me. She's in a pair of jeans, tag dangling from them. They're unbuttoned, and her breasts are overflowing from a black bra.

"I'll be right out," she grits through her teeth.

But I don't leave. "Listen, I'm sorry about what I said before. I shouldn't have judged you. I shouldn't have said that."

She crosses her arms over her chest, and it only makes her breasts call to me more. "No, you shouldn't have. I'm not what I seem, Miles. Nor do I want to be. I've spent my life feeling judged, the weight of the world's eyes on me. The last few days are the first days that I haven't. You ruined it. "

I open my mouth and shut it, not knowing what to say to fix it. She's supposed to be our prisoner, but I'm not an idiot; she's more. She has been since the moment I laid eyes on her. But she can't be ours. She has to go back to where she belongs. This life isn't for her.

"Aella, I—" I sigh, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

She rolls her eyes and turns as if to dismiss me with the action. Something in me snaps. I grab her upper arm, swinging her back around. It takes two steps to back her into the mirror behind her. She hisses as the cold glass touches her skin.

"Miles," she says breathlessly.

I capture her lips and the end of her sigh as she melts into me.

I don't kiss.

I ignore the thought as I slip my tongue into her mouth.

It's heavy with emotion. It's edged in hate. It's everything.

Our mouths move in tandem, and we get what we need from the kiss: her, an apology in full, and me, reassurance that she feels what I feel. She hooks her leg behind mine, and I growl, pressing into her further.

"How are we doing in there?" Alice asks, breaking our mouths apart.

"Fine," Aella squeaks, looking at me with blown pupils and red lips.

We both try to hide the kiss's effect on us and keep our panting breaths silent, but that's difficult when all I want to do is dive back into her mouth and kiss her until I take my last breath.