"It was two fingers, right?"

Beau's cocky grin should be a turnoff, but his knowing look only served to make me squirm. He knew what he was doing to me. I was stripped completely raw, completely vulnerable, spread out on the bed. And my whole body ached for him.

I shook my head, still trying to catch my breath. No, not two fingers.

A raised brow was my only warning before Beau ignored me, slipping two fingers into my pussy. I cried out, desperate for another release, for more of his touch.

He swore beneath his breath. "You're so goddamn responsive. I can't fucking wait to see what happens when I introduce you to more than just my fingers."

Sweetness blossomed inside me as I arched up to meet Beau's lazy thrusts. I whined his name, hoping to incite a little more urgency, a little more...something. He bit down on his lip, eyes scanning over me greedily.

"Baby girl wants more, huh?"

"Yes," I hissed, about ready to twist my fingers into his hair and hold him where I wanted, just like he had done to me.

Beau chuckled, and I felt the blissful pressure increase between my legs before he lowered himself, opened his mouth, and...oh fuck. His tongue flattened over my clit once before he began licking in long, slow strokes.

When I moaned, loud and long, Beau raised his eyes slowly until they met mine. He pulled back, just slightly.

"You know when I told you that I'd return any favor you gave me?" he muttered.

I nodded, licking my lips. The taste of him still lingered.

Beau cleared his throat, but the raspy husk didn't leave his voice.

"Then just remember...my face is yours to fuck, sweetheart."

—

Images of Denver flashed through my mind. Denver from grade school, Denver from high school. Denver on that night, surrounded by flashing lights and the sounds of tires screeching, people yelling. Denver yelling. The smell of leaking gasoline and burnt rubber. Hazy smoke rising from an engine, masking the headlights of a squad car. Thunder in the distance. The knowledge that there was a storm on the rise.

When I woke, it was with a start. With a thrust back into a reality. I gasped, jerking upright as I looked around the living room. The cozy, calm living room. The only lights were the ones on the Christmas tree. The only voices were the ones on the TV. Will Ferrell and Zoey Deschanel. The only smell was Beau's smell. A bit of spice and manliness.

"Beau?"

That was Beau, right? I wasn't losing it? He was really sitting there at the end of the couch?

He turned toward me, pulling his attention from the TV, a residual smile on his face from the movie.

"Mornin', Collins." He kept his voice low, his smile warm and welcoming, and everything came flooding back to me. "Merry Christmas."

"Morning?" I repeated, squinting at the windows on the far wall.

It was pitch black outside.

"Well, technically, it's morning," Beau said. "It's like one AM."

"So technically, it isn't Christmas."

Beau waved that thought away. "Christmas is an event, not a day."

"Oh?" I pushed myself further into a sitting position on the couch. "And do you have some kind of event planned?"

Beau's mouth spread into the largest grin I'd ever seen. I shouldn't have asked. I should have known better.

His attitude right now was a massive contrast to his disposition when we'd walked in the door earlier. I'd never... I'd never imagined he'd show up. Or that he would act the way he had. This, though, right here... this was the Beau I knew.

"As a matter of fact, I do," he said, reaching across the length of the sofa to tug on my wrist. Curiosity filled me, and I let him pull me up, following Beau as he marched us toward the Christmas tree. And that was when I realized.

There were presents. There were a lot of presents.

"Beau—"

"Sit," he said, interrupting me before bouncing toward the kitchen to grab two filled mugs. He walked back with slow steps, clearly trying not to spill, before setting the cups down on top of a present. I noticed cookies were sitting there, too. Frosted, homemade sugar cookies.

"Beau," I tried again, "Please tell me you did not buy all these presents for me."

"Here," he said, ignoring me, "take this." He placed one of the mugs in my hand. "It's butter tea. An acquired taste, but I think you'll like it."

I took a hesitant sip, surprised when creamy flavor exploded on my tongue. I'd never heard of butter tea before, but this was rich. And a little salty, which was a unique pairing. Good, though.

Beau didn't give me a chance to comment on it, though, because then he handed me a cookie before flopping down onto the floor in front of the presents.

"Sit," he repeated since I was still standing there, struck with disbelief. Beau was as gleeful as a boy on Christmas morning, though, and as flabbergasted as I was by what this night had turned into, I was also melting from the inside out.

After placing my mug down, I reluctantly sat on the rug. "I'm going to repeat this since you very suspiciously did not respond." I cleared my throat. "Please tell me you did not buy all these presents for me."

Beau laughed, tossing his head back, his black hair flowing out of his face before flopping down over his forehead again. To fight the overwhelming urge to run my fingers through it like I had in the hot tub, I tucked my hands beneath my ass instead.

"I did not buy all these presents for you," he said.

Phew, that was a relief. But then—

"They're from my mom."

"Oh my god, Beau," I breathed.

Shaking my head, I covered my mouth with horror and shock and something I couldn't quite put my finger on. But warmth spread through my limbs, and it wasn't until this moment that I realized how cold I was before.

"Yes," Beau insisted with another laugh. "Don't worry; there's a few sprinkled in for Nessa, Grayson, Madie, and Bren. But..."

"But?" I twisted to look at him, my hand slowly lowering from my mouth.

He shrugged, unable to contain a smile. "But most of them are for you." Reaching over, Beau grabbed my hips and pulled me closer to him. Then he shifted slightly, scooting behind me. "Dalha wasn't very happy, you know," he said, still talking casually like he wasn't swinging one leg around to straddle me. "That you didn't come to Sacramento for Christmas."

"I—Dalha?"

"My mom," he said, a smile in his voice.

Words failed me as Beau settled me snuggly between his legs. He leaned forward, moving my hair out of the way until he could find my ear. "Is this okay?"

I nodded and then reached out to take a hasty sip of the butter tea again, thinking it would give me time to figure out what to say.

"Do you like it?"

Beau's lips against my ear nearly made me spit out the tea, but I gulped it down, wondering if he meant the drink, the presents, or how he was holding me.

To be fair, I liked all three. So I just nodded again.

"I need you to use your words, Collins. You're starting to worry me." He gave my sides a tiny pinch. "The only other times I've had to coax words out of you has been in bed."

Well, that thought definitely wasn't going to help me produce words.

Come on, baby girl. Talk to me.

That voice of his in my head only served to make my throat dry and my mind fuzzy. And my heart...well, we didn't need to think about what was happening with that right now.

"Talk to me," Beau muttered when I didn't respond, and all I could think of were memories I shouldn't be thinking of.

What comes after two, Collins? If you want it, you're going to have to answer me.

I sucked in a breath, pulling myself together. "Beau, I just...I can't believe you did this."

His laugh tickled the back of my neck. "I did very little. Most of this is my mom's doing."

"Yeah, but you're here."

I couldn't help it; I gave in to the feeling, into the warmth and security, and let myself fall back into Beau's arms a little bit. He felt so good, especially when he wrapped an arm around my waist, gladly pulling me in closer to him at the invitation of closeness.

"Yeah," Beau muttered. "I'm here. Hope that's okay."

Hot prickles of emotion made my eyes water, and I was happy that Beau sat behind me so he couldn't see me fighting them. I nodded for practically the millionth time tonight, and then I kept nodding so he would know just how okay it was. It was the most okay-est thing there ever could be.

His soft chuckle told me he got the picture. Reaching out, Beau grabbed a present from the top of the pile. "Start with this one."

My nod switched positions as I began to shake my head. "I can't accept these, Beau. You know I can't."

"Why not?" His voice continued to be soft, soothing. Patient. And then it became humor-filled when he continued. "Christmas is the one time that you are basically obligated to accept presents, Collins. It's how it works."

I couldn't help but laugh. "No, that's not how it works. You're supposed to exchange presents. Meaning you give and you get. Unless I am misremembering, I didn't get anything for your mom."

"My mom has everything she could ever need. You know what she always wants for Christmas? A happy family." He snorted. "Is that the most cliché mom thing ever? Yeah, but it's the truth. So you can fulfill her wishes by making me happy. And you wanna know how to make me happy?"

I tilted my head back, glancing up at him. "I know a few ways to make you happy, Beau."

Beau made a growly noise in my ear, his grip on me tightening. "Open the damn presents, Collins."

With warm cheeks, I relented. Mostly because I couldn't believe what I'd just said and maybe opening presents would be a good way to distract us both from it.

"Fine."

The first present was a sketchbook, which was a relief. What a perfect gift—thoughtful and not over-the-top expensive. But the second gift was a stunning black dress with a designer label, and it probably cost more than our monthly rent. And then, I opened a gift card for one of my favorite art supply stores. A gift card with more money on it than I knew what to do with.

The presents went on and on. Beau's mom was spoiling me, and for some reason, it made me want to cry. In a good way.

Surrounded by things that I didn't deserve, Beau and I eventually fell back onto the floor together, and I watched Elf for the second time that night. Only this go-around, I wasn't alone. And I wasn't cold. And it actually felt like Christmas.

Not because of the gifts, though.

It was because of the warmth.

****

"I don't think I can spend this."

Beau walked down the aisle of Blick Art Materials, brushing his fingers against the price tags. He twirled around, taking a sip of his iced latte and pushing his free hand into the pocket of his sweatpants. "Why not?"

"Because it's too much, Beau!"

It was way too much. I couldn't even fathom what to get with the money that his mom had dropped on this gift card; it was more than my brain could comprehend.

He shook his head, exasperated. Probably because we had a similar conversation more times than I could count at this point, including on the way here when he'd bought the iced drink now sitting in my hand. "Mom asked me to send her a picture of what you get."

Goddamnit. "Beau..."

"No, really. She did." With quick strides, he closed the distance between us and reached up to gently move a dangling curl out of my face. "She asks the same thing whenever she gets me gift cards, too."

His eyes bored into mine for a long moment, and I almost forgot that we were in a store. People were everywhere, but they didn't matter. Sometimes the world and all its troubles melted away when I was with Beau, but I knew it was too good to be true. The world without troubles didn't exist.

Sometimes I wondered if that also meant the same for a world with Beau. I wanted it to exist, though. More and more every day.

Despite my insistence that Beau should go home and spend time with his family, he refused to leave Oakland unless I agreed to come with him. And I wasn't able to get myself to do that, not when uncertainty still filled my gut. He didn't make it a big deal, though. Apparently he had another snowboarding competition in a couple weeks, and his parents planned to go, meaning he would see them then.

So with him refusing to leave and me too scared to go, we spent the last week together, hanging around the apartment. I used my free time to apply for jobs on campus while he used his free time trying to get me to agree to a shopping day.

And so now here we were.

"I don't know what to get," I whispered.

Beau leaned closer, knocking his forehead against mine. "Close your eyes."

"Beau, I'm not going to—"

"Close your eyes."

My eyelids fluttered shut, and blackness greeted me, coated with tiny speckles, little dots floating in my vision. I was acutely aware of my breathing, which had turned heavier with Beau's close proximity. His, too, was noticeably...there. Against my lips.

"Picture if you had your own little art studio," he said, his voice melty and comforting. "What's in it?"

Listening to him, I visualized it. It was a tiny room with barely enough space to walk around. But there was an easel, which I already had, and lots of paints, brushes, and markers. I had my own vision board, filled with inspiration that I'd ripped from books and magazines. And in the corner, there was a...

"A pottery wheel."

I opened my eyes in time to see Beau pull back with a grin. Taking my hand in his, he started tugging me toward the back of the store.

Instantly, I regretted voicing my vision aloud. Because pottery wheels weren't cheap, and even though Beau's mom had gifted me a fortune, I still wasn't sure if it would be enough. I definitely didn't have the money to cover the difference, either.

"They're really expensive, though, Beau. I don't know...."

"Don't worry about it," he called back, and somehow I resisted rolling my eyes. I didn't want to have another back and forth about money, but every time he told me not to worry about it, I worried a little bit more.

It was only a matter of time before Beau figured it all out. He'd met Denver, heard his full name, his goddamn corporation. Well, actually, it was an understatement, saying that they'd met. Beau hadn't just met Denver. He'd yelled at him, dragged him across our apartment, and then punched him. Quite the heart-stopping meeting.

But the moments after Denver was gone, when Beau had held me in his arms—that was the safest I had felt in years. For the first time, it felt like I had someone on my team, fighting with me.

Beau didn't know what he was fighting, though. And I needed to tell him. Not just because I didn't know how much longer I'd be able to resist the irritatingly persistent pull between us, but also because at this point, he deserved to know. The fact that Bren knew the truth when he didn't...that hurt him. The last thing I wanted was to hurt Beau. I was tired of hurting Beau.

But the minute I spilled everything, he would tell me don't worry about it. And then it wasn't just going to be the cost of a bottle of coffee creamer, or a pair of boots, or a paint palette, or a pottery wheel. If what Denver said was true, and his mom planned to strike again, I'd need a lawyer. I'd need money. And I couldn't, I wouldn't, take Beau's.

Beau misconstrued my silence, turning to face me in the back aisle of Blick.

"Look, you can pay me back. Okay?"

I cocked my head to the side, confused. Beau never let me pay him back for anything. "Really?"

"Yeah." His grin inched sideways, morphing into a smirk. "By teaching me a thing or two about pottery."

"You...you want to learn about pottery?"

There were so many things lately that I just couldn't wrap my head around.

"Yeah, I mean... it's only fair." Beau leaned back on the shelf behind him, raising an eyebrow. He sucked on his straw, taking a long sip of his latte. Full of drama, this one. "I did teach you how to snowboard, after all."

I sucked in. "Okay, then."

He pushed back off the shelf. "Yeah?"

Beau's smile was infectious today. I felt a grin creeping onto my face.

"Yeah, okay. Let's go get all the stuff and bring it home. I can show you tonight."

Clapping his hands together and rubbing them together with excitement, Beau bounced up onto his toes. "I'm going to make a bomb-ass mug, strictly for drinking hot cocoa."

I laughed. "Well, we don't have a kiln, but—"

"Oh, let's get one of those, too."

"No, absolutely not." That was where I put my foot down on flippantly spending money. "They're thousands of dollars. We'll just use the one on campus."

Beau rolled his eyes a little bit, but he didn't argue my point. And soon, we were on our way home. With a pottery wheel. And clay.

And with my heart pounding in my chest.

✨

in all the books in this series, there's always one scene that pops into my brain from the beginning when I am visualizing the couples, and then I work outward from that scene when I'm planning and writing.

for it burns within us, it was that scene after getting caught in the rain in Madie's dorm room.

for the fire we started, it was them reuniting at the gala.

for all the wild ones, it was when grayson put nessa on top of the piano for the first time.

the next few chapters are it for beau & collins,

and I'm excited to share them!

thanks again to everyone who reads!

I hope you're enjoying the story so far <3

xoxo Amelie