Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
LOXLEY
My feelings for Miles were intensifying, growing stronger with every passing day. My entire life had changed the moment he caught me speeding. Those two weeks together had blurred the edges of who I was before him, to the point that I didn’t think I’d ever get that old version of me back.
I wanted more time, more stolen moments, and more nights spent wrapped up in him.
But fear loomed like a shadow. I couldn’t shake the thought that Sam was going from town to town, inching closer, bringing my punishment with him.
Running away might have felt liberating at first, but I knew there’d be consequences.
The record label would make sure of that.
I was already going to owe them millions for breaking my contracts. And if I didn’t pay? Well, they’d probably make sure I never worked in Nashville again.
Oddly enough, that didn’t sound so bad. Part of me didn’t want to go back. I didn’t want to leave Harmony Haven; the only place that had ever truly felt like home.
But then there was the music.
No matter how much I wanted to stay with Miles, I couldn’t ignore the pull of my passion.
Nashville wasn’t just where my career was, it was where I could create magic.
My time with Miles had changed me, reshaped my heart, but nothing would ever dull the craving I had to make art, to write songs, and to sing them for anyone who’d listen.
It was like being the author of a book. The stories were ingrained in me, demanding to be told.
Piecing them together, putting the words in the right order, crafting something meaningful.
It brought me a kind of joy I couldn’t explain.
It wasn’t just about creating; it was about the way people responded to it.
I wanted to sing my stories to the world. I wanted people to hear my art, to feel it, to understand me in ways words alone couldn’t convey.
But wanting that didn’t mean I didn’t also want him.
When we got back to the house, I told Miles I needed to write. Maybe it was the whiskey doing for me what it seemed to do for everyone else in country music, or maybe it was the heightened emotions I felt being out by the water with Miles.
Either way, the words were flowing on to the paper, my pen making an eerie noise as I wrote as fast as I could. I was so scared that the lyrics inside my heart would disappear before I could immortalize them.
Your lips write secrets across my skin,
Each kiss a story, where do I begin?
You’ve got me spinning, lost in your flame,
Whisper my name, drive me insane.
Keep me forever, take full control,
Hold me tighter, never let me go.
A small knock broke my spell, and I looked up and around.
Miles was leaning on the wall inside the opening to the hallway.
His arms were crossed, and with no shirt on, I could see the definition of every muscle in his arms flexing.
The sweatpants he wore hung low on his hips, and his hair looked as though he had just woken up.
“Did you go to sleep?” I asked, wondering if I woke him up.
“No,” he shook his head easily, without any other expression.
“Did I bother you?”
“No,” he said again.
For some reason, I couldn’t help but feel like I had done something wrong. Miles was always so easy going and happy, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of feeling any other emotions.
Standing, I started making my way toward him, and he watched intently until I was close enough to touch him. “You okay?”
“Of course I am,” he tried smiling, but it didn’t quite hit the way it normally did.
“I just needed to write,” I explained, thinking that the only thing I had done wrong was come home from our romantic evening and practically ignore him. “I can’t explain it but—”
“Are you done?” he cut me off, not specifying whether he meant if I was done explaining myself, or done writing.
“I can be,” I shrugged.
“Keep writing, baby,” he lifted his chin toward the couch, but never uncrossed his arms. “I just want to watch.”
My face reddened, unsure if I would be able to sit back and create songs while he watched me with such intensity. And he noticed the way I hesitated.
“I have a better idea,” he finally smiled, then uncrossed his arms, letting his handcuffs fall and dangle from his fingers. “I could arrest you.”
I started backing away, realizing that Miles was being playful, even if he wanted me to think otherwise.
He started stalking forward, chasing me as I went behind the couch and evaded his attempts to catch me.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be caught, I just wanted to play his game, and something told me Miles brought those handcuffs in hopes I’d run.
“Oh no, Mr. Officer,” I laughed. “You’ve had me in those before, I have no desire to be locked up again.”
“I think it's the only way I’ll get you in bed tonight,” he taunted.
I kept running around the couch, then bolted to the dining room, using the table as a way to keep him away. But then I made the mistake of leaping into the kitchen and I was trapped, with the only way out being the back door.
He lunged toward me again, but I ducked and he missed, so I used the chance to try crawling between his legs.
For a minute, he let me think it was going to actually work, but just as I made it back to the door for the living room, he pulled me back against him and wrapped his arms tight around me.
“Okay ma'am, you’re under arrest... for stealing my sanity. You have the right to remain silent, but let’s be honest, I love to hear you sing.
Anything you say can, and will, make me tie you to my bed.
You have the right to an attorney, but I’m pretty sure you’d rather have my face between your legs.
Do you understand these rights... or do I need to say them again? "
As he spoke, he pulled my arms behind my back and gently placed me in his cuffs. I was so turned on I moaned my response, and he laughed as he threw me over his shoulder and carried me to the bedroom.
He set me down easily, but then undid one of my cuffs, wrapping it around a slat on his headboard, and then placing my hand securely back in the cold metal. I was at his mercy and he even looked down at me with a smile of satisfaction.
“I told you I’d catch you,” he smirked.
“You also told me I have the right to have your face between my legs,” I reminded him. “I want that option, please.”
He pulled my panties down and lifted the t-shirt I was wearing high enough to expose my breasts. When we had gotten in from the lake, we both took a quick shower, and thankfully, that was all I had bothered putting on before I started writing.
Miles eyed me mischievously, licking his lips and lowering his head between my open thighs. He ran his tongue along my slit, teasing me just enough to make me want more.
“Miles,” I moaned a warning, although with his handcuffs on, I wasn’t really sure what I would do. It wasn’t as if I could grab his hair and force him to fuck me with his tongue.
“Loxley,” Miles said back to me in the same taunting tone I had used. “Stay still, baby.”
“I…” I breathed hard, unsure what I was going to say because everything left my brain when his tongue touched me again. That time, he spread me open, savoring my taste as it coated his tongue.
I writhed under him, my wrists tugging uselessly against the cuffs. The loss of control was only heightening the intensity, making every sensation feel electric. Like nothing I’d ever felt before.
“You taste so fucking sweet,” he murmured against me, the vibrations of his voice sending a shiver straight through my core. His hands gripped my thighs, holding me wide open as he devoured me with unrelenting focus.
“Miles, please,” I begged, arching into his mouth. The teasing was too much; I needed more. I needed him to push me over the edge.
He lifted his head just enough to meet my eyes, his lips glistening. “Please what?” he asked, his tone dripping with smugness.
“Don’t stop,” I panted, barely able to form words.
His grin was sinful and new. I’d never seen that kind of look on his face as he dipped back down, this time slipping a finger inside me while his tongue worked in perfect rhythm. My body bucked, desperate for more, but his firm grip kept me in place.
“So fucking perfect,” he muttered, his free hand sliding up to tease my nipple, sending sparks of pleasure through my entire body.
My breathing turned ragged, my thighs shaking as the pressure inside me built to an unbearable peak. “Miles,” I gasped his name again, my voice breaking as I tipped over the edge, every muscle in my body clenching as he drove me through the waves of my orgasm.
When he pulled back and looked down at me, he smiled at the overstimulated mess he had left me in.
But his eyes were dark and blazing with hunger.
His hands slid up my body, rough palms skimming my sides as he rose above me.
The way he looked at me made me feel cherished, and as if he wanted nothing more than to worship me.
“You drive me crazy, Loxley,” he murmured, his voice thick with want. His hands gripped the hem of the oversized t-shirt I wore, pushing it over my head so that my breasts sat higher on my chest.
“Good,” I whispered, “It’s only fair.”
His laugh was low and sinful as he leaned in, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that was slow and deep. I could feel the heat of his body pressing against mine, the hardness of him straining against his sweatpants.
Without breaking the kiss, his hands moved to the waistband, pushing them off his hips the best he could without losing our contact. Lifting my feet, I pushed down as well, hoping to help him move faster.
Once he was completely bare and ready, he pulled back, watching my eyes widen as he pushed the weight of his cock into me. With one hand gripping my thigh, he pulled me open for him, while the other braced against the headboard near my cuffed hands.
“You ready for me?” he asked, his voice husky and strained.
“Always,” I breathed, “but I also want to touch you so bad.”
Shaking his head, he lined himself up and pushed forward, the stretch of him stealing the air from my lungs. Inch by inch, he filled me, until there was nothing left between us but heat and the steady rhythm of our breaths.
“Fuck, Lox,” he groaned, his forehead resting against mine as he began to move, each thrust deeper than the last.
I wrapped my legs around his hips, pulling him closer, needing him deeper. The world outside ceased to exist as he claimed me, his hands roaming my body like he couldn’t get enough. Each roll of his hips sent a shiver through me, building a fire that threatened to consume us both.
“I’m never letting you go,” he murmured, his voice rough and full of promise.
I nodded, digging my nails into his shoulders as I held on for dear life. “I don’t want you to.”
We moved together, a perfect rhythm of need and surrender, until the heat became too much to bear and we tumbled over the edge together, lost in each other.
Before he pulled out of me, he reached into his nightstand and pulled the key to his handcuffs out. With my hands released, I grabbed onto his shoulders and squeezed, replaying the words he breathed in the heat of the moment.
“I’m never letting you go.”
Our lives were never meant to intersect outside the four walls of his home. But maybe they could. Maybe we could find a way to keep what we had found.