Connor must notice my involuntary shudder, because he slips his arm around my shoulder and pulls me toward him so that I’m tucked against his broad chest. “Better?” he murmurs, his one hand rubbing up and down my arm. “Okay, now tell me how your classes were.”

I let myself soak up Connor’s body heat for a moment as my nose absorbs the scent of his cologne—light and clean, with hints of lavender. And I silently marvel at how comfortable this is.

I tell him about the two science classes I had on Thursday and Friday and the ones I have next week. I tell him all about the volunteer job at the hospital and about the twins, rehashing their interrogation.

“Derek and Eric are twins?”

I roll my eyes and giggle. “I know.”

He takes a sip of his beer and then his arm moves back, pulling me tighter. “So, what makes you want to go into pediatrics?”

“It’s just something I knew I wanted to do since I was young. I can’t picture myself doing anything but that.” Stayner’s words from this morning slink into my thoughts and I instantly chase them out.

“That’s noble. And sweet,” Connor says. Letting my head tilt back a bit, I feel his head turn, his lips brush my forehead as he murmurs, “And hot.”

I swallow and duck back down, knowing my face is red again. “What about you, lawyer?”

I get jostled lightly as Connor shrugs. “I come from a long line of lawyers. Me and Ashton both, actually. It’s a family tradition. Are your parents doctors?”

I shake my head, smiling wistfully. “My dad was a high school principal and math teacher. My mom was a music teacher.”

There’s a long pause. “Was?”

Taking a deep breath, I pull away from Connor, enough to see his serious expression. “Yeah . . .was.” I take a long chug of my drink. And then I tell him everything—about the car accident, about Kacey almost dying, about all the people who did die that night. About Trent. Everything.

As I talk, I feel his arm slide around my shoulders and tighten. I feel his other arm wrap around my body, his hand cupping the side of my head, his thumb grazing my cheek, pulling me even closer than I was before, until I close my eyes and let my head melt against his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat, cocooned in his warmth. Protected.

We stand like that through an entire song, not talking, swaying silently to the beat, until Ty barrels through the door, visibly more drunk than he was only twenty minutes ago. “Now I remember you!” he bellows, holding his hand out and wiggling his fingers. “Come on. Lemme see that picture. I need to make sure it’s flattering.”

“Oh no . . .” I groan, shrinking back.

Connor laughs unsuspectingly as he gives Ty a playful shove. Taking my hand, he leads me back. “Let me show you the rest of the house.” Connor keeps me close as we weave through the house and he introduces me to people. I think I remember a few of them. I pray they don’t remember me. Or that I likely told them that I loved them. And I sure as hell hope they don’t remember me with Ashton.

Once I’ve seen the entire main floor, Connor leads me upstairs. “That’s Grant’s room,” he says with a head nudge to the left. “Across from him is Ty.” As we pass by the bathroom, he murmurs, “You’ve already seen that.” I nod, biting my bottom lip as I glare at it, as if the room itself did something heinously wrong. At the end of the hall are two doors opposite each other. “That’s Ash’s,” he says, a lazy hand waving to the open door on the left, revealing a king-sized bed and dark gray linens. I instantly picture Ashton’s body stretched out over those sheets as he was the morning in my dorm room, and my stomach muscles tighten.

Opening the closed door to the right, Connor leads me into a large bedroom with a double bed and two giant windows. “This room’s mine,” he says, turning on a small lamp.

I’m in Connor’s bedroom. Did he bring me up here for a reason? My eyes skim over the space, settling on the bed for a moment. Does he think we’re going to have sex tonight? I clear my voice and offer, “Nice house,” as I spin around, noticing the door was left slightly open.

Connor is leaning against a wall, watching me intently. “My parents own it. They bought it two years ago so I could get off campus for my junior and senior years. Almost everyone lives on campus around here, but I was finding it a bit too much. And the guys jumped at the chance to move in with me. They pay next to nothing for room and board, so it was worthwhile for them.” Stepping forward to push a thick lock of my hair back behind my ear, he murmurs, “Relax, Livie. I didn’t bring you up here with any expectations.” His hand moves to cradle my chin. “Just one hope . . .” Leaning down, Connor’s lips slowly close over mine, moving as if coaxing a response. It feels safe and warm and nice.

That doesn’t mean I’m not petrified that I’m doing it all wrong, that Connor will regret me as well. When he breaks away, I wonder if my one drunken night was enough to teach me the basics. With my bottom lip tucked under my teeth, I look up to see eyes a darker shade of green and more glossy than normal.

“I’m just . . .” I frown. “I’m not very experienced.”

Placing a gentle kiss on my forehead, he murmurs, “That’s okay. To be honest, I really like that you’re different.” Does different translate to virgin? With a second kiss on my brow, his hands lift to hold my face on either side as he murmurs, “Let’s keep things slow and easy.” Slow and easy. What does that mean?

“Okay.” I use my drink as a diversion, bringing it to my lips to take an extra-large gulp, thankful that Mr. Jack Daniels is helping to keep me calm.

“So, I hear you got a tattoo last weekend?”

The quick change of topic is appreciated. I still groan and roll my eyes, of course. “Looks like it. Do you have any?”

Connor’s hands fall from my face to ruffle the top of his head. “Nah, I hate needles. Ash keeps trying to get me out with him but I refuse.”

“Go drinking with my sister and you’ll end up with one whether you like it or not,” I mutter wryly, but inside I’m mentally taking inventory of Ashton’s tattoos, ones I’ve seen sober and the other ones that I somehow remember—a bird on the inside of his right forearm, the Chinese script on his right shoulder, the Celtic symbol over his left pectoral, Irish on his butt...

And my face is burning again. Dammit.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing! Do you want to see it?” I blurt out, intent on diverting his attention from me and my perverted mind.

“Sure. I mean, it isn’t anywhere . . .”

“Yeah. I mean, no. I mean, it’s on my back so, yes, you can see it.” I shake my head at my flustered self as I quickly turn around and sweep my hair to the side. I stretch the back of my shirt down. “See it?”

“Yeah.” There’s a long pause as he looks at it. He doesn’t touch it, though, and I wonder whether he wants to or not. This is so unlike the caveman-style manhandling earlier with Ashton. I’m seeing very quickly that Connor is his opposite in so many ways. I don’t get how they’re best friends. “What does it mean?”

“Just something my dad used to call me,” I smile wistfully.

“Well . . .” Connor’s hand gently takes mine and my shirt falls back into place. He sweeps my hair back the way it was, smoothing it gently, before his hands settle on my shoulders. I sense him lean forward until his mouth is close to my ear. “It’s beautiful,” he whispers, his voice decidedly husky, his thumbs sliding back and forth over my back with a hint of pressure. And I know that, despite not having expectations, Connor definitely has ideas.

I think this is the part when my brain is supposed to vanish. It’s supposed to be sucked right out of my head by the sexy guy breathing in my ear. At least, that’s what I’ve always assumed was supposed to happen. When you’re in a bedroom with a hot guy for the first time and he’s all but saying, “I’m horny and I’m yours,” you’re not looking for an escape route. You’re looking for a way to lock the door so you can tear his clothes off and do all kinds of things that don’t involve your brain.