the curve of my neck, more full of pleasure than pain.

Despite saying how much we both wanted to move into the main event, neither Beau nor I seemed to be able to leave the shower. His hands moved up and down my body, sculpting it. Slick skin against mine. With the steam filling the bathroom, I could barely breathe. But I wouldn't want it any other way.

Cupping my breasts with both hands, he pinched my nipples gently, making me cry out. With his knee, he urged my legs wider, and suddenly something incredibly hard began rubbing between my legs. Caressing me. Nudging my wet clit repeatedly.

"You feel so fucking good," he groaned, thrusting lightly.

The feeling was more than mutual. I would have fallen by now if he wasn't holding me up. If he hadn't pinned me to the wall with his body.

"I want you right on the edge," he said as he continued to tease me. It was a gentle explanation, like we were discussing...well, anything but sex. "I want you so close to coming that the first thrust of my cock has you clenching around me.

"Beau, I'm already—" I bit down on my lip to hold in another cry as he toyed with me, but the way I couldn't even manage to finish my sentence should have been enough for him to understand what I was about to say.

"Shh, no, you're not," he muttered. "Not yet, baby girl. Not until I say so. Got it?"

___

Beau was in a mood tonight.

I didn't know how to classify it. He spent the morning exhibiting a sweet softness toward me, but whenever he thought I wasn't looking, his face fell. Not out of sadness or anger or anything else. It was more like...concentration. Beau was thinking really hard about something, and I couldn't help but worry it had something to do with me.

Now that night had fallen, though, he seemed to have pushed aside whatever brain project he was working on. He stood by the door in his classic Beau outfit—a matching hoodie and sweatpants accompanied by a giddy expression. Only Beau could make such a casual outfit look so goddamn attractive. A backpack was slung over his shoulder, and I knew it carried at least four bottles of booze. He'd already served Nessa and me a few cocktails while we got ready for the party, and I could feel the buzzing effect of alcohol already.

His eyes were bright with anticipation as he watched Nessa and I walk out of her room and down the hallway toward him. That attentive gaze caressed the bare skin that I'd dared to show tonight. My black dress wasn't flashy, but it was definitely a little low cut, a little shorter than I usually wore.

"Hey, pretty girl," he muttered as I sidled up next to him, making all my limbs feel like jelly. Before I could say anything in response, though, he looked over at his other roommate.

Nessa was dressed to kill tonight. Her short, tight skirt and strappy top didn't leave much to the imagination, and yet, it was still tasteful. She confessed earlier it was her first time going to a party since all the shit had gone down with her ex-boyfriend, the one who had taken her rejection from his attempt to win her back by posting a video of their first time online. Nessa's first time ever. And even though Jasper Monroe had been booted off campus, Nessa admitted she wanted to walk into tonight with a statement-making outfit.

I couldn't imagine putting on the confident face she wore and walking back into a space where a handful of people—likely more—had watched me lose my virginity. I supposed it helped that we were going to Grayson's house, where she had the backing of the entire OSU football team, but still. One of these days, I needed to steal some of Nessa's energy and use it to stand as tall as her.

"Pretty bold of you to wear that when your boyfriend has a heart condition, Nessie," Beau said with a wink before softening his voice and giving her a little elbow nudge as she walked up to him. "Deep breaths. You're gonna rock tonight."

"Beau!" She gave his arm a light slap, but she bit down on a smile, and it was easy to see how she appreciated the support and the compliment. Even if it came in a Beau-sort-of-way.

He laughed before turning back toward me. Once again, his eyes overwhelmed all my senses with their attention. How did he do that? How was he so warm, so reassuring with just a single glance? It was a look that told me he hadn't changed his mind about how he felt about me, even after everything I told him last night. And that meant more than I could ever explain in words.

"What if I dropped Nessa off, and we came back here?" he asked, his voice notably lower. Darker. It made my breath hitch.

Clearing her throat, Nessa took off toward the door. "I'll be in the car!"

My cheeks warmed as the front door opened and slammed shut. Obviously we weren't hiding anything from Nessa, but I hadn't been prepared for Beau to be so...obvious in front of her.

"It was your idea to go to the party, Beau," I pointed out.

"Yeah, but I changed my mind," he said, closing the space between us and circling an arm around my waist. "I don't want to share you."

"You've had me to yourself for the past two weeks."

Beau immediately began shaking his head at my response. "That didn't count. I didn't really have you, did I?"

"I don't know." I shrugged, glancing away from his intense gaze. "I think you've had me for longer than you realize."

He sighed, and I looked back to find him watching me with a lopsided grin. Beau dropped his arm and grabbed my hand instead, leading me toward the door.

"Maybe I'm remembering wrong, then," he called over his shoulder. "Because I could have sworn that you agreed we were friends before. And the way I want to have you isn't the least bit friendly."

****

Nessa grabbed onto my arm as we walked into Grayson's house, her whisper filling my ear from behind.

"You weren't kidding, were you?"

I shot her a look from the corner of my eye. "About what?"

"That Beau has another side."

I choked on a laugh. Nessa had no idea, and she wouldn't be getting more of one no matter how curious she was. That other side was just for me.

I answered by giving her a one-shoulder shrug. "Maybe."

My roommate elbowed me in the side as she brushed past, flashing a slight smirk before walking to Grayson and tapping him on the back. His slack-jawed expression was nothing less than priceless as he turned around to take Nessa in. I saw him mouth fuck before I looked away because everything suddenly seemed a little too intimate.

Maybe Beau was right. Maybe Nessa should have given Grayson and his heart a warning.

Trying to look anywhere but at Grayson and Nessa, I scanned the rest of the room instead. There were already a decent number of people here, most of them drunk or past it, on their way to becoming plastered.

Beau had made his way over to the speakers in the front of the living room, wrestling for control of the music from Julian, who appeared hard-pressed to give it up. Eventually he relented, though, and Beau immediately hit the room with a remix to a decades-old tune that I couldn't remember the name to.

He made me smile. And that smile only grew as he half-walked, half-danced his way back across the living room, hoisting his backpack full of precious cargo above his head. His eyes caught mine, and he mouthed the word drinks while pointing to the kitchen.

I nodded with a laugh, watching as Julian broke from Beau's path to come stand by me, Nessa, and Grayson. He raked his hand through his hair before sighing. And then, after leaning back against the wall, he sighed again.

"Why are you all fidgety? Is this all because of Gemma?" Grayson asked, finally managing to tear his eyes away from Nessa to survey his roommate.

"Yes. A perfectly good party and I'm not even going to be able to enjoy it because watching after Gemma will be a full-time job."

Grayson snorted. "You're acting like she's a kid, Jules."

"She is a kid."

"No, she's not. She's literally one year younger than you. Which means she's older than me. So thanks for that." Noticing mine and Nessa's confused looks, Grayson turned to us and added, "Jules' sister is considering transferring here next fall, so she's visiting for the weekend."

"Oh!" Nessa's eyes lit up. "One of the many Briggs sisters. Can't wait to meet her."

On cue, the front door crashed open, and in waltzed a ginger-haired, freckled, and gorgeous girl who was, without a doubt, Julian's sister. And right behind her, strolled another girl, who was a little shorter and considerably less freckled.

"Jesus Christ, you've gotta be kidding me," Julian muttered, raking his hand through his hair for like the fifth time in two minutes. "Two of them? Really?"

"Is that another sister?" I asked, even though it would surprise me if that was the case. The other girl was dark-haired and round-faced, and not a single one of her features matched Julian's or Gemma's.

"No, that's Juni," he said through gritted teeth. "Gemma's best friend since fucking forever." After a long beat, he groaned, "They're a terror together."

As irritated as Julian seemed to be at his guests, the minute they started walking toward us, a funny little grin appeared on his face. One that immediately vanished when one of Grayson's other roommates, Reggie, stepped forward with clear-as-day interest in his eyes, a pick-up line clearly on the tip of his tongue.

"Don't fucking do it, Reggie," Julian snapped, his sharp, east coast accent suddenly cutting into his words. "Don't talk to them. Don't look at them. Don't breathe in their goddamn direction, got it?"

"Stop it, J!" His sister bounced up, giving him a little nudge and some serious side-eye, one that showed just how much she wouldn't mind getting hit on by Reggie, who did have to-die-for dimples and a gorgeous smile.

Julian merely grunted in reply before throwing an arm around his sister's shoulders and pulling her in for a side hug. He kissed the top of her head, which caused Gemma to make a face, and then he turned his gaze onto her friend.

"Lily...welcome," he said, making her roll her eyes and causing me to frown in confusion.

"Thanks, Julie," she replied, her tone mocking.

Julian narrowed his eyes. "Julian," he corrected.

"Whatever," she sighed, feigning a bit of boredom as she looked around the room.

Considering how much Julian hadn't been looking forward to her being here a second ago, I would have thought he'd end the conversation there. But he didn't.

"I should have known you'd be tagging along, Rosie," he said, grabbing her attention again. "You always do."

"You know my name isn't Rosie," she huffed, overly-exasperated as she turned back to him.

"Sorry," Julian drawled. "My bad, Daisy."

"Juniper," she ground out between gritted teeth. "It's Juniper."

"Oh yeah," Jules said with a little smirk. "I knew I'd get the right goddamn flower eventually. You'll have to forgive my memory. It's been a little while since I've seen you, Juni."

Shaking my head with a laugh, I heard Juni snipe about how Juniper was a tree, not a flower while I looked back around for Beau. He was emerging from the kitchen with two drinks in his hand, Madie and Bren following behind him, and I sidestepped toward the group of people dancing in Grayson's living room.

Even though it had been weeks since I'd seen anyone besides Beau, I didn't really feel like talking. I didn't really feel like doing anything that didn't involve having Beau's hands on me. And dancing was a good excuse to make that happen.

I'd tried to use it as an excuse last time I was here, too, when I'd had way more to drink and was far lonelier. I'd hoped that if I danced like I had that night at the gala, Beau would join me in the crowd of people. But he hadn't, and so this was my second chance. Luckily, I felt pretty sure it would go differently.

Stepping fully onto the makeshift dance floor, I rocked my hips a little bit to the beat, still facing Beau. Madie and Bren had strayed to the side, walking purposefully toward Nessa and Grayson, leaving all of my attention on Beau. A slight twitch of his lips told me that he knew what I was doing, which was fine by me. I wasn't trying to be discreet.

The alcohol already coursing through my veins convinced me to throw my hands over my head, give my body an extra little twist that I probably wouldn't dare to do if I were sober. That was the level of drunk I was: the level where I knew what I should and shouldn't do, but I couldn't quite get myself to follow any goddamn rule.

Beau's eyes flashed with heat as he watched me, clearly revealing his intent to join my solo party. But then I felt two hands brush lightly against my sides, and Beau's expression became taut. He dropped the drinks off on the side table by the couch, and before I could swivel around to see who was behind me, Beau was there. Beau was there, and I was out of the stranger's hands and into his.

"Didn't they teach you in school to keep your fucking hands to yourself, Reggie?" he bit out.

I nearly laughed. Apparently Reggie was trying to make all the moves tonight. Twisting to look behind me, I caught sight of the handsome football player, his hands held up in a show of retreat as he awarded me a playful grin.

"This is the last time we come here," Beau said with an irritated grunt. His hands traveled up my sides before resting just below my rib cage. "I am RSVPing no to all future football parties because of all these handsy motherfucking athletes."

"It was one football player," I said back, trying to bite down a smile at his grumpy expression. "And I'm getting the vibe that Reggie flirts with pretty much everyone."

Beau pulled me in closer, not appeased by anything I had to say. Even as he mimicked the movement of my hips with his, he still frowned. The heat of his body, that familiar scent of his cologne, the softness of his hands as they guided me deeper into the crowd—it made me want to melt into him.

"There was Steve, though." Steve? "From the last party," Beau added. "The guy whose dick I wanted to chop off when he tried to convince me that you should go home with him even though you were wasted."

Oh, yes. Steve. And the night that I wanted to erase from my memory. Well, except for the parts with Beau. The sweet parts. The sweet parts were always with Beau. And those were always good enough to keep.

"I don't think he was a football player, though," I said, and Beau rolled his eyes. "And that was before we were...."

I trailed off because I realized I didn't really know what we actually were.

The problem was, though, that Beau seemed really interested in the ending of that thought. A smirk lit up his face as he leaned in closer, and to keep me from leaning back, too, he cradled the back of my head to hold me steady. Beau pressed a kiss to the hollow below my ear before whispering in it.

"Before we were what, Collins?"

Glancing away, I ignored all the overly active butterflies in my stomach and shrugged. If I knew how to end the sentence, I would have ended the sentence.

"Hey." Grabbing my chin, Beau redirected my attention, my eyes, back to him. "Maybe I didn't make it clear last night, but I still want you. Nothing you confessed made me want you any less. Okay?"

"Okay," I breathed, barely audible over the beat of my heart and the throwback remixes. I'd figured that what Beau had said would be the truth, but to hear it out loud...shivers. I had shivers. It was so hard to wrap my head around it. "So...now what?"

Beau's lips curved even further upward. A bit mischievous, a bit knowing. One of his hands drifted to my back, and then it followed the curve of my spine down. Down, pressing us closer together until his hand sat on the small of my back. And maybe it was the alcohol making my head feel light, like I was floating, but I was pretty sure it was all him. It was all Beau.

"Now what?" he repeated, breathing in the small space that separated us.

I felt parched, suddenly starving and thirsty all at once. Nodding, I licked my lips absentmindedly, which didn't go unnoticed. Beau's eyes fell to my mouth, studying it for a moment before connecting his gaze with mine again. When he spoke, it was in that gritty tone that always gave me goosebumps.

"Now I kiss you in front of everyone, so they know that you're fucking mine," he said. "How's that sound?"

"Good," I said on an exhale. A dizzy, miraculous exhale. "That sounds good."

Beau released a breathy laugh before he cupped my head from behind, tilting it at just the right angle so our lips could collide in a slanted, perfectly-timed, perfectly-positioned kiss. It was a kiss made for movies. A kiss made for moments in dreams, my dreams. But it felt real. Completely, devastatingly real.

His lips parted mine, and the soft sensation of his tongue brushing mine combined with the hardness of his mouth, his need—it was overwhelming. But in a good way. Several loud cheers tried to interrupt us, but Beau didn't let up. He smiled against my lips before diving back in for another taste. And another. On and on until finally, I pulled back.

"How long do we have to stay before going home?" I gasped.

"I told you we should have dropped Nessa off and left," he muttered, his lips hovering over mine, primed to take them again.

I laughed. "I didn't think you were serious."

"Oh," Beau said, humorless. "I was fucking serious, sweetheart."

"Don't you think we should at least—" I broke off with a groan because Beau took that moment to press his impressive erection against my thigh. And with him wearing sweatpants and me wearing a flimsy dress, there wasn't much left to the imagination.

His hand drifted down to my jawline, tracing it before brushing down the column of my throat. Our hips continued to rock, though they'd slowed to more of a grind. "What were you saying, baby girl?"

I couldn't remember. The only thing on my brain right now was how I would soothe the ache that had sprung between my legs. It was unrelenting, and I needed...I needed him.

Beau's touch had been comforting last night. Comforting, and that was all. It hadn't once crossed the line into anything more than that. And at the time, it was what I had needed, that reassurance and softness. But now, I needed something else.

"A year, Collins," he rasped. "It's been almost a year, and I don't think a day has gone by when I haven't thought about that night. When I haven't thought about how you felt, how you looked, the sounds you made. Did you think about it as much as me?"

"Yes," I admitted, twisting my fingers into his hair how I knew he liked.