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“Now it’s your thing.”

Floodlights come on.

The cold hard light hits us in the face and we scramble. I don’t get a chance to think. I don’t even get a choice. He simply hauls me up and throws me over his shoulder. A moment later he’s jogging, actually jogging with me over his shoulder, back to the house. Good thing it’s only one block away.

“I’m going to toss my cookies!”

“You better not.”

A bunch of the guys are on the couch, playing video games, when Reagan walks through the door carrying me.

“Welcome back, Bailey,” one drunk idiot snickers.

“Long time no see,” adds another.

As soon as we’re in his bedroom, Reagan kicks the door shut and places me back on my feet. I wobble and fall against his chest. He wraps his arms around me and holds me closer.

We’re both smiling and breathless. “We’re really doing this? You’re not going to get weird on me tomorrow?”

He leans down and murmurs in my ear, “Nobody is getting weird. And the only thing I’m doing tomorrow is hiding between your legs.”

A shiver runs down my back. Backing away from him, I walk over to the bed and strip my shirt off, sit on the edge in the only cute bra I own.

“I’m not on the pill.” Best to get the important stuff out right away. “I can’t…” My gaze moves down. His stare is so intense I can’t look him in the eye as I bare my soul. And however unsexy this conversation is, we have to have it. “It messes with my hormones and with my family history it’s too much of a risk.”

“We’ll use condoms.” His feet walk into my line of sight. He opens the drawer of his nightstand and pulls out a strip. My stomach twists and turns. I won’t deny that seeing them ready to go by his bed bothers me.

“When was the last time you got tested?” I muster the courage to say.

“Beginning of the semester. I haven’t been with anyone since.”

That’s when my eyes finally lift to his. And there, in bottle green, is the indisputable truth. His mouth hooks up in a small smile. “You’re surprised that there’s been no one else?”

I nod, speechless from shock.

He shrugs, trying to seem casual and failing. “You’ve taken up all the space in my head.” His smile melts, his tone serious. “You’ve owned it since the day I met you.”

It downloads all at once, critical information. I’m in love with him. I am madly in love with him.

Oh, shit. This feels scary. As if I’m out on a limb by myself.

“What about you?” he says and swallows. Is he nervous? He can’t be. Can he?

I stand and slowly inch forward, closing the gap between us. A few inches away I stop. Reaching out for me, he grips my hips and pulls me closer. My hands slide up his sculpted chest, muscles honed by years and years of grueling workouts, skate up the column of his corded neck, his skin hot and silky. His Adam’s apple bobs.

I want to lick him there, taste the heat and the salt, inhale his scent. “You’re asking me if there’s been anyone else? For real?”

He grins, a face-breaking ear-to-ear one. “My ego needs to hear it.”

“Your ego needs no such thing.” His smile melts into something more important. His humor turns to reverence. “But if you must know then, no, there hasn’t been anyone. Not for a while. Not since you drove into me––I mean into my life.”

A slow grin takes over his face. He sighs and leans in, closes his eyes, and places his lips on mine. Sweet, searching, testing. The kiss deepens and a minute later he’s moaning into my mouth. His arms wrap around my waist. His hands palm my ass and squeeze, pressing me against his erection.

“Why did we wait so long to do this?” he says against my lips. Truer words were never spoken. He’s right. It feels so good I want to cry.

Gripping my ass, he lifts me up. I wrap my legs around his waist, and his erection, hard and thick and perfect, nestles between us.

“Bailey, swear to God, I’m going to blow a load in my pants if you keep doing that.”

“The bed. The bed,” is all I can manage in between the thrill of having his hands on me and the kiss to end all kisses.

He drops me on the bed and takes my foot in his hands, slowly and deftly unbuckling the delicate straps of the sandals. He chucks the shoe over his shoulder and starts tugging on my toes. Holy triple gasp. I moan, my head falling back in utter erotic ecstasy. “Those aren’t mine. Don’t ruin them.”

He does the same to the other sandal, the other toes. Then he steps away, grabs a handful of his gray t-shirt, and pulls it off. This view never ever gets tired, or stale. His body is a masterpiece, a perfect example of the sheer beauty of the human form. The result of unrelenting hard work and dedication.

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