I stare defiantly into his hypnotic gaze. “Feels like the perfect position if you ask me.” I wriggle my butt.

It’s the barest of touches, so light I might have imagined it, but my clit throbs as his finger sweeps over it.

“Still cocky?” he questions.

“Always,” I breathe, my whole body tight with anticipation.

God, I want him to touch me, but I don’t. I want him to go, leave me. But sweet Jesus, I want to feel him breathe heavily into my ear, his fingers moving across my pussy. I want his body over mine and his mouth on me everywhere. I want to remember that feeling of him being inside me, how easy it was to forget everything and get lost for just those moments. I want to remember how perfectly he fit, how quickly he worked my body, how expertly he drove me to the brink of insanity then tipped me over until I saw stars.

“Do it,” I challenge him, moving my free hand between us and brushing the hard length of his cock with my thumb. “You say you have power, Ads, well, show me. Show me yours, and then I’ll show you mine.”

He grazes his teeth down my neck to my shoulder then kisses the curve there, his hand finally moving lower until it covers my pussy and his fingers are teasing their way across my wetness. I drop my head back onto his shoulder as his thumb finds my clit and he eases one finger inside me. The double hit of sensation waltzes through me at high speed, and the tight knot of anticipation in my lower stomach only grows.

“Don’t make a sound,” he orders as there’s a bang from downstairs.

This is wrong. I know this is wrong. All of it. But I can’t stop.

He moves his fingers expertly inside me, his thumb circling my clit like he’s done it to me a thousand times before. My legs tremble as pleasure sneaks its way through my body, setting a fire roaring inside me. Shit. Holy shit.

My ears buzz and I can’t breathe. All I can feel is him. Aidan. Holding me and kissing me and touching me as I let myself go. I stop fighting against the power he obviously has and fully give in to him, to the little bursts of magic he’s making me feel with nothing but his thumb and two fingers.

A moan escapes my throat, but he silences me with a quick “shhh” and a hard press down on my clit. The latter has the opposite effect as pure pleasure bolts through me and pushes me to the brink of orgasm, but my next sound is nothing but a tight inhale of expectation as my orgasm pulses away and I balance precariously on the edge of pleasure and insanity.

“Open your eyes,” he murmurs, flicking his thumb across me slowly. “Then you’ll know what you look like when you belong to me.”

His words shock me into opening my eyes, because no fucking way do I belong to him, but he curves his fingers and rubs my clit and nothing else matters because everything happens at once from the quiet gasp to the explosion of pleasure and the swamp of heat. Nothing else exists except for him and me and this, whatever it is, just this moment.

And he holds me, pulling his fingers out of me and spinning me with his other hand while reaching behind me for a makeup wipe to clean his fingers. My mouth is too dry for me to argue, so I let him do what he wants and bury my face in his hard chest as he all but holds me up.

“Here,” he mumbles with amusement, flicking the waistband of some panties against my butt cheek. “You can get dressed now.”

I swallow and force myself to stand straight, snatching the underwear out of his grip. I pull them up my legs and stare at him, that lopsided grin making my stomach flip. “I don’t know if I’m mad at you or actually kind of like you.”

“You just said my name like you were praying to me, Jessie. I think we can assume you like me.”

“That may be so,” I reply and grab some lace shorts from my drawer. I put them on and turn to him, sweeping my hair around one side of my neck. “But I don’t like you enough to help you with that raging erection you’re sporting.”

His expression morphs into annoyance and I smile sweetly.

“Jessie.”

I walk back toward my bedroom door, twirling my hair around my finger. “What was that you said about power, rocker boy?”

Aidan

This girl is gonna be the fuckin’ death of me.

Not only did she stare right into my damn eyes as she came all over my hand, she left me to walk out of her house and say good-bye to her mom and her sister—who might as well have hearts tattooed on her eyeballs—with one of the most painful hard-ons I’ve ever fucking had. And now? Now she wants me to upload a picture of us holding fucking hands to Instagram.

Yes, the girl who woke up to death threats this morning wants to put our clasped hands on the Internet for the rabid fangirls to see.

She takes so little shit, and I’m struggling in my endeavor not to find it the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

By struggling, I mean I’m failing. And by failing, I mean I’m fucked, because Jessie Law is about the sexiest girl I’ve ever met in my life.

I’m totally screwed.

“There,” she says, handing me back my phone and stepping down the porch steps. “That wasn’t too painful, was it?”

“Not as bad as getting the end of my cock pierced.”

She raises an eyebrow. “And you would know that how . . . ?”

“I wouldn’t. But I imagine the piercing to be real painful, and that was only kinda painful.”

“Your confidence in our fake relationship warms my black heart.”

My lips tug up to the side. “Your heart isn’t black, sunshine. A little gray in places, and your soul might be rotten around the edges . . .”

Jessie laughs loudly, smacking my bicep. “Shut your face. You can’t talk. Your soul is a chimney.”

“Actually, I just had it cleaned, thank you very much.”

She keeps laughing. “You’re such an idiot.”

“So you keep saying,” I reply as she pulls off her sandals and hooks her fingers through the back. She looks down as we walk, her eyes on the sand spilling between her toes. “Don’t think too hard. You’ve done a lot of that today, and you might hurt yourself.”

“One of these days, I’m going to pin you to a bed and get your penis pierced.”

I shudder at the thought. “No fucking way.”

“Yes way.” She grins and walks backward, holding up her hand and wiggling her fingers. “The power over your penis lies in my palm, rocker boy.”

“As if I could forget,” I mutter dryly. And there I was this morning, thinking that when she said she’d show me hers, she meant her blow-job skills. I can’t catch a break with this chick.

“Oh, look,” she trills, pulling out her phone, “your legion of demonic minions are sobbing all over your post.”

I cough over my laughter. “Wait—when did you get your phone?”

“I forgot my debit card.” She grins, looking up and meeting my eyes. So that’s why she went back upstairs.

“Pain in the ass,” I mutter, drawing level with her and looking at the screen. She’s right—for every like on the Instagram picture, there are several unhappy comments.

Including one from leila_burke: y’all make me sick.

Jessie hits Comment and types: @leila_burke I’ll bring you a bucket if you ask nicely.

I laugh and push her phone down. “You two are crazy.”

“Really? You just read some of those comments and you think we’re the crazy ones?” She turns and, spotting Kye with Mila, yells, “Hey, Kye, am I crazy?”

“Are you datin’ my brother?” he calls back.

“Not for reals.”

“Then no. You’re sane!” His laughter rings across the beach, and Jessie’s mingles with it. She turns, gives me a sassy smile that makes her eyes glint with mischief, then takes off, running across the beach, her sandals swinging at her side and her hair flying behind her like she’s straight out of a fucking movie.