My palms were sweaty.

Knees weak.

Arms heavy.

Goddamn, I was a walking, talking, breathing—well, barely breathing—Eminem song right now. Minus the vomit on my sweater of course. And thank fucking god for that because my date was already making her way up the stairs toward me, all sophisticated and gorgeous. And very much looking like she wouldn't be the type of person to go out with someone who had remnants of their mom's spaghetti down their front.

Not that Momma Martin would even make spaghetti. Well, maybe she would. As long as it could be paired with at least three other courses. Maybe two.

Shit, focus. Stop thinking about your mom while you're on a date. Think about her, you asshole.

She wore the red one. Somehow I'd known she was going to wear the red dress. Out of all the ones I'd sent her as options, that one stuck out the most. Begged to be put on and showcased at a gala like this one. Only the best for the Cardairel Hotel. Only the best for Collins Bryant, this beauty I didn't even know.

But I was going to know her soon.

Holy hell, I was going to give Bren my Range Rover. That was it. I'd decided. He deserved it after setting me up with this girl. She glanced up at me with those dark, melting eyes, and something flipped on inside me. A light switch? No, not even close. A flame torch would be more like it. And not just any torch but like...a special one. Yep, the Olympic-mother-fucking-torch was burning up my body from the inside out.

An opening ceremony raged on inside me, and my heart was the host. Unbuttoning my suit jacket, I rubbed at my chest, needing the thumping in it to chill out with the celebrations. This was just the beginning, and Olympic event number one was coming right up.

Just say hello. Introduce yourself. Be cool, dude.

"Hey."

He should be a model.

Bren said his girlfriend described this guy that way. That he should be a model.

And my god, she wasn't wrong.

She was also pissed. At me.

Well, not so much me. More Bren. And rightfully so. If I'd known she didn't realize I was coming tonight, I would have never shown up. It was so long ago, that high school era when I hooked up with Bren and other guys just to dull some kind of pain. And sure, we had a connection, but it had nothing to do with sex or romance or anything like that.

I was so far from a threat to Madie and Bren's relationship. But of course, she couldn't see that right now; she just saw her boyfriend walking up with his ex-fuck-buddy. I didn't blame her. I shouldn't have let Bren set me up with his friend. I should have stayed home. Alone. Like I usually did to keep from hurting other people.

Although, then I wouldn't have met him.

Was it possible he was a model? I mean, it would explain how he'd afforded to send five freaking designer dresses to my door with a note to pick out the one I liked best for our date. Who does that? What kind of college kid does that?

The answer was pretty clear now that I was here: Beau Martin wasn't a kid. He might have a boyish charm to him, but the minute he looked me over and gave me a crooked grin from the top of the stairs, I knew.

Goddamnit.

"Hey," he'd murmured.

I'd taken a deep breath. Summoned a smile. I was a bit out of practice with dating.

Okay, it was possible this was my first date. Ever. Like officially, anyway.

"Hey. You must be Beau?"

His smile had grown.

"Damn right I am."

"I can spike your drink if you want."

Collins' big, beautiful eyes immediately got even bigger, and I grimaced.

"That came out wrong," I rushed to say. "That came out way wrong. I meant with alcohol, not with, you know, drugs."

She smiled, more gracious than I deserved. "It's always so reassuring when a date admits they don't want to drug me."

I bit down on an embarrassed grin. "Yeah, you're welcome for that."

Picking up her glass from the dinner table, Collins raised a brow.

"So alcohol, you say? What do you got?"

I pulled out the mini flasks I had stuffed in my pocket earlier. A fancy-ass gala deserved fancy-ass drinks, and if there was anything I was good at, it was coming prepared to serve them.

"What do you want?"

I wasn't sure if it was the ballroom, the boy, or the alcohol, but sparklers were going off beneath my skin. Hot and tingly prickles that were just the start of something bigger.

It had been about an hour since Bren and Madie had finished fighting over their miscommunication—which revolved entirely around me—and I finally relaxed into my chair.

Before that, I used Beau's alcohol to calm my nerves. I didn't like unresolved conflict, and it had been floating in the air like a weapon waiting to be unloaded.

But now...Now, I could fully enjoy myself. Turning to the side, I caught Beau's gaze before it flicked away from my face. It wasn't the first time I'd noticed him staring tonight, but it didn't make me uncomfortable. It made me feel...wanted. Like he was glad that I came with tonight. Like I was glad I came.

He wasn't upset at all about the drama my appearance at this gala had caused. If anything, he found it amusing. He'd laughingly cursed at Bren beneath his breath more than once.

Beau reached for his glass, which I knew was as spiked as mine. He twirled it in his grasp with deft fingers, and I frowned, realizing it was still completely full.

"Why haven't you touched your drink?" I asked.

"Afraid I really did spike yours with something other than alcohol?" Beau grinned, immediately lifting his glass to his lips. And then he watched me over the rim of it while he took a sip, proving he wasn't hiding a damn thing.

I laughed, shaking my head. No, I hadn't been concerned.

Still smiling, he nodded toward Madie, who was tugging Bren out of the ballroom with a wicked gleam in her eye, and then Nessa, who was scowling at a handsome man who'd just come to sit next to her, taking her date's spot. The date that had ditched her.

"The last couple of months on campus, it's just been me, Madie, and Nessa. I've gotten in the habit of waiting to drink until I see how much trouble the girls are gonna be for the night," Beau said.

He took another sip, carefully eying my glass, which was nearly empty. When he looked back at me, he winked.

"Someone's gotta stay sober."

I watched as the confident piano man lured Nessa out onto the dance floor, grinning to myself.

Girl was trying so damn hard not to be happy about the situation she was in right now, but I saw right through it. He'd swooped in like a savior, and as much as Nessa might insist that she didn't need saving, she was trying way too hard to hide her grin.

Grayson saved me, too. Honestly. Madie was off with Bren, Nessa was occupied with him, and now I could focus on my date.

My gaze swept back to Collins, only to find her squinting at me.

"Are you a model?"

I snorted. "Am I a model?"

"Yeah, you know. People who pose for money."

"I love how you just complimented me and then insulted my intelligence in under thirty seconds."

She gave me a slight, secretive grin. The booze had been working its way through her; I could tell. And so far, being tipsy only made her more adorable.

"Just trying to keep you on your toes, Beau."

I leaned back in my chair, grinning at her. "I can appreciate that."

Collins took another sip of her drink, and I took a steadying breath when her eyes didn't leave mine. She was making me feel drunker than any alcohol ever had.

"You didn't answer my question," she pointed out.

Laughing, I shook my head. "No, I'm not a model."

A perfect eyebrow raised. "You could be."

Maybe it was time to cut her off.

When was the last time I laughed this much?

Never. The answer was quite simply never.

Someone put Beau Martin into my life to make me smile again; I was so sure of it. Maybe I had Bren to thank for that, or maybe it was someone else. It didn't matter who, but all of the alcohol coursing through my body allowed me to revel in this moment without thinking about how I wouldn't get to keep him.

I wanted to keep him.

Golden retriever energy combined with that sneaky little twinkle in his eye promising a few secrets, a few moments of rebellion and delight—it didn't exist anywhere but in this guy.

"Now where the hell did you get champagne?" I asked, giggling ridiculously when he poured me the tiniest of glasses. If he thought I hadn't realized that he'd been slowly cutting me off, he was dead wrong.

Mischief danced in his grin. "Don't you worry 'bout it."

I wasn't worried. I wasn't worried about anything right now.

We clinked our glasses together, and bubbles cascaded down my throat. When I set down the champagne flute, Beau cleared his throat.

"Does the pretty lady dance?"

Laughing, I ignored how my face flushed. Hot. Prickly. "She does when she's got drinks in her."

Beau seemed pleased with my answer. His lips curved as he unbuttoned his suit jacket and then held out his hand. Without hesitation, I took it, wrapping my fingers around his for the first time.

With relative confidence and only slightly sweaty palms, I led Collins out onto the dance floor. But all my plans to share a few carefree dances with this girl flew out the window when we faced each other, and she grabbed the end of my tie, reeling me in toward her.

I choked on air.

Give my dick a warning before you do something as hot as that, will ya, sweetheart?

With a sly grin, Collins melted into my arms when I wrapped them around her, and I had to force myself not to pull her in all the way. I needed a little space here. A bit of room to get my shit together, or else my body was going to get mixed signals about what was happening.

Dancing. We were dancing. Just dancing. Dancing was innocent and—

Her hands were tangling into my hair, and was I...was I having a heart attack? Oh god, and now her breasts were brushing up against my chest, and that panicking heart of mine was definitely not the only throbbing body part.

In a last-ditch effort to calm my nerves, I looked at the ceiling. Anywhere but her.

The lights were dim now, the atmosphere rich and moody. The elegance of the ballroom combined with the music's heady bass caused a clash of romance and sex, and I was getting sucked between both of them.

Disaster? Miracle?

Time would only tell.

Wow. I really hadn'tknown what to expect, but Beau could dance. Like really dance. I mean, sure, he stumbled a little bit at first, but I was fairly certain that was more from the fact that I'd surprised him with my enthusiasm than anything else.

To be honest, I was surprising myself.

But something about this night made me want to let go. Beau was infectious—his happiness and smile and charm. I wanted to bottle up the way he made me feel so I could take it with me when the clock struck twelve.

I shouldn't let myself indulge. That annoying, nagging thought was very clear in the back of my mind, judging me for letting my guard down. But all I wanted was one night. One night without thinking about Denver or the lawsuit or any of that shit. One night when I could just live.

So when I blinked up to find Beau watching me with a dark, intense gaze, I encouraged it. All of it.

"Fuck," he muttered, his eyes lowering to my mouth. Lingering there. "I really want to kiss you. Like mega-super-definitely want to kiss you. Like—"

I shut him up by crashing my lips to his.

It felt like someone hadput a whole-body binding spell on me, and I didn't know how to break free from it. Imagine that, considering there wasn't a single drop of magic in my blood. My eleventh birthday came and went without a snowy white owl showing up on my doorstep, and it sure wasn't about to show up now.

Collins, though. Collins must have some kind of beautiful witchery in her veins because she had damn near stunned me with this kiss.

When I didn't reciprocate—too busy marveling over the soft feeling of her lips and her warm, curved body beneath my hands—she pulled back.

"Beau?"

Self-doubt traced the edges of her irises, and it snapped me back to action.

Weaving my fingers into her hair, I dipped my head. We weren't done. We weren't even close to being done. "Sorry, you took me by surprise."

Her brows pulled together. "You said you wanted to kiss me. So I kissed you."

Yeah, when she put it like that it made me sound fucking ridiculous. But there was a part of me that honestly hadn't even realized I'd mumbled those words aloud. About wanting to kiss her. This girl made me lose all my goddamn sense.

"Kiss me again," I groaned. "I'm ready this time."

Collins' grin slipped between her teeth like she was amused and nervous all at once. And even though those lips had just been pressed against mine, the anticipation was killing me. I needed them. I needed to feel them again, like really feel them. Kiss the shit out of them.

I slipped my hand down to the nape of her neck, beckoning her closer. Our noses brushed as music I couldn't place urged our bodies to rock together. I didn't care what song it was though as long as it had a beat I could use to grind against her. My free arm wound itself tighter around her waist because I didn't want a single space between us. Not a single little bit of air was allowed to separate me from Collins Bryant. You hear that, air? I will fucking come for you if you get in my way.

And then she made this throaty noise, and I damn near died. Slipping a finger beneath her chin, I whispered across her lips.

"Kiss me, Collins. Please."

"Well." She exhaled, and my eyes fluttered shut. "I suppose since you said please..."

I grinned despite myself.

The next time someone begged tonight, it would be her.

Because sparks did not fly whenwe kissed. Sparks were for people who had inklings of chemistry. A fizzle, right?

Collins and I did not have an inkling of chemistry. We had PhDs in that shit. Toss me a white coat and call me a scientist because suddenly I felt like an unstoppable expert. In chemistry. And kissing Collins Bryant.

She kissed me slowly this time. Torturously slow. My mouth roved over hers in a bold exploration that I knew would get me into trouble.

And quickly.

Yep, I was massively turned on. Heat blazed up and down my spine. Collins' tongue flicked against mine, doing its own little dance that was making it really hard for me to control myself. When I grabbed the back of her head to keep her mouth attached to mine, deepening the kiss, she moaned. It echoed inside me as she tugged at my tie, anchoring us together.

I had no idea how to stop. Absolutely no idea how to slow this down.

"Collins," I groaned, a warning of sorts. For both of us to get our shit together.

But instead of releasing my tie and stepping away like I was half-hoping she'd have the ability to do—since I didn't—Collins used her hold on me to start marching us toward the door.

"A room," she said, looking back over her shoulder at me, eyes bright. "I have a room."

"You have a room?"

"Upstairs."

Yeah, I was definitely going to give Bren my Range Rover.

I couldn't have been morerelieved that there wasn't anyone else in the elevator when we got on. Beau pushed me to the back of it, caging me between his arms as he dipped his head to kiss me again. God, he was a good kisser. He knew just the right amount of pressure, just the right amount of tongue to use to make my knees weak.

"Fuck," he groaned, and it sent lust pooling between my legs. At least until he followed it up with, "Nessa."

I immediately pulled back, dread sinking all the way to the tips of my toes.

"Did you just groan your friend's name while kissing me?"

Words seemed to get caught in Beau's throat. "Oh God, no," he eventually managed to spit out. He even laughed a little bit. "I'll admit...that, uh, came out wrong, though."

"You think?" When I went to take a step back, he grabbed my wrist.

"Get back here, sweetheart. I was groaning Nessa's name because I realized I'm her ride home, and I just ditched her. But I'm pretty sure she's in good hands at the moment."

I had mixed feelings about his explanation. It was hard to make sense of them, though, because he took that moment to cup my face and kiss me again.

"Do you always think about your friends when you're kissing other girls?" I asked, trying to find it somewhere in me to care when his lips were brushing against mine, tender and soft.

"No." Beau chuckled. "But there's something you need to know about me, Collins," he whispered.

"What's that?"

"I'm the kind of guy who makes sure everyone else is taken care of first."

I swallowed. Something about the way he said those words made my insides feel tangled and confused. And I could see it being true, too. Earlier, he hadn't even taken a sip of alcohol until he was sure that everyone else would be okay.

His lips started to trail to my jaw and then my neck. I arched back, letting him suck on a sensitive hollow, making me see spots in my vision.

"How about I take care of you now, huh?" he breathed.

I didn't know how to say no to that.

Fingering girls in elevatorswasn't exactly a common experience for me.

But I didn't miss the doubt in Collins' eyes about where my attention was at the moment. Couldn't blame her, either. Screw my brain for letting Nessa slip in for a moment, even if it was well-intentioned and all that. Not the fucking time to be responsible, brain. Not the fucking time.

My focus was Collins, though. It was all her.

So here I was, slamming the emergency brakes on the elevator and hitching up her dress. Her inner thigh was so soft and smooth beneath my fingertips, and holy mother of God, I couldn't wait to feel the rest of her.

"Beau," she gasped, opening up for me without hesitation.

I smiled into her curls. This girl was greedy, and I adored it. The way she said my name was satisfying as all hell.

Finding her ear, I kissed the hollow beneath it before pulling back to look at her. "Tell me I can touch you."

She couldn't get her response out quick enough. "You can touch me."

"Good. Now, how many?" I asked, brushing one finger between her legs, skimming the lace there.

Big, brown eyes stared at me as she answered with a confused, aroused whimper.

"What?"

My finger dipped past her underwear, teasing her clit. She was stunningly wet, and I was maddeningly hard. I could barely think straight. Was this happening? Oh fuck, yep. It was. And she wasn't just letting me touch her; she was encouraging it, rocking her hips forward and begging for more.

Beg, baby girl. Beg with those hips.

"How many fingers?"

I dove knuckle-deep inside her.

Collins opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

"How many fingers do you want in this little pussy, sweetheart?" I groaned with her when I pumped another finger in. "Tell me what you like."