“Masters, seriously, what are you doing here?” I refuse to let him charm me. He’s wearing his standard uniform of cargo shorts and dark T-shirt. This time the knit is a deep green that makes his eyes pop. I’ll pretend his mother bought him the shirt and not a former girlfriend, because it’s totally a color a woman would purchase.

“I’m buying a book.” He looks at his full hands. “Maybe two since you can't make up your mind either. What are you doing here, Ellie? You aren't following me, are you?”

“What?” I say a little too loud and heads turn our direction. “No, I am not following you,” I hiss in a much quieter voice.

He lowers his own voice and I have to lean in to hear him. “It's okay if you followed me. I approve of your stalking.”

“I’m not stalking you,” I bite out, but then because I want to buy the book in his left hand, I paste a smile on. “I think the biography. Why don't I go put that other book back for you? This book has sex in it.” I point to the novel.

“Good thing I'm over eighteen. It’s frustrating to want things that people hold out of your reach.” He shakes his head in mock dismay.

“Don’t you have practice?”

“Not today. It’s Sunday. Even football players get a day of rest.” He smiles but it dies off when I continue to glare at him. He sets both books down on the table. “I want you to go out with me.”

“I don’t date football players,” I answer automatically.

This concept is apparently so foreign to Masters he literally scratches his head. “So you had a bad past experience. We’re not all the same person.”

“It has nothing to do with a bad breakup and I know better than to say all football players are like one asshole.”

“So, you did date one.” He nods as if this is the answer to everything.

“Yes, but he didn't break my heart. Or at least not in the way you think he did.”

I felt hurt when I found out Travis had cheated on me, but I also felt glad to see the ass end of him. What made me angry was the way he treated Jack. That’s what pissed me off. That’s the warning I take with me.

The problem with Masters is that I’m very attracted to him, more so than a normal girl is attracted to a normal guy, which is why I can’t just walk away from him. I know that standing here having this conversation gives all the wrong signals. If I really didn’t want Masters, I’d walk away. We both know it.

“Okay. We have this thing,” I wave my finger between our bodies, “going on. I think the best thing we do is have sex, burn it out, and go on our own way. I won’t even tell a soul that we did it and you can continue with your virgin cover story.”

His face tightens. I don’t know if it’s because I accused him of lying or because I want to have sex without any emotional attachment, which is weird because most guys would jump up and down for joy at this offer. “If all I wanted was a quick lay, you and I both know I could get that without any effort. I want something more than that from you.”

“Welcome to disappointment. It’s character building.”

I force myself to turn around and walk away. The chair scrapes behind me, and then his big hand turns my shoulder and backs me up against the bookcase holding stories about dead girls hacked up by serial killers and other true crimes. Seems apt.

He leans down, so close I can smell him—a mix of warm male and citrus—and it’s so good my knees get a little weak. “I’m not experienced, but I know when a girl is into me, and you're into me. You want to play it casual, then that's how we play it...for now. But fair warning, I'm bringing everything I’ve got to tear down your resistance. My specialty is reading plays and then overcoming the barriers.”

I lock my legs to keep from falling over and pull out the biggest barrel I have. “Masters, there are things about me that if you knew, you wouldn’t want to spend another minute in my presence.”

He considers my words, the silence taking on heaviness, and part of me already aches for what I could have if I was any other girl at Western. “Have you killed anyone?” I can feel his eyes assessing me and I keep my gaze averted, afraid of what I’ll see in his moss green gaze.

“No.”

“Have you slept with my brother?”

“What?” I can’t prevent myself from gawking at Masters, who’s smiling as he asks the question. “No! God, I’ve never even met him!”

“Are you catfishing poor athletes from Auburn? Wait, don't answer that, because I don't think I'd find that objectionable. Oh, I have it—” He snaps his fingers.

“This isn't a joke, Masters.”

He tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “Until you tell me what it is, it’s not a reason to stay apart either.”

I suck in my lower lip to prevent throwing myself at him and telling him to take me.

“Why?” I ask helplessly.

“Because I like you.”

He grips me by the chin and lays down the gentlest, sweetest kiss. In that kiss, he tells me everything. That he wants me. That he’s willing to take it slow. That he’s not giving up. He kisses me as if this is the only thing he wants to do for the next ten hours.

His lips barely move but I can feel everything in me surge toward him. The short wedges I shoved on this morning feel precarious. I grip his shoulders to steady myself and then find myself rising up on my tiptoes to press deeper against him. He hauls me flush against him until I can no longer touch the floor.

His one hand palms nearly my entire back while the other angles my head for better access. He may be a virgin, but the guy knows how to kiss. His tongue finds places inside my mouth that I didn’t even know could feel good.

All the pent up desire boiling in me for days comes pouring out. I attack him with my kiss, biting his lower lip, sucking on his tongue. Against my belly, I can feel the hard ridge of his very large erection. The image of him standing in that dim light, stroking himself until he comes, flits through my mind in a series of graphic, 3-D images.

“God,” I breathe as he abandons my mouth to trace the line of my jaw with his lips. He growls in response and pushes me back against the bookcases, but I don’t even mind that the shelves bite into my back. I just want more.

He gives it to me. We cling to each other, feeding off each other’s seemingly endless need, until I hear a gasp and then a muted giggle. Those two faint sounds somehow manage to break through the haze of lust, and bring with it the realization that I am in a very public place. I wriggle against him and he sets me down reluctantly.

“We're in the bookstore,” I say in a scandalized voice.

“You've never kissed a guy in the bookstore before?” He grins, the wicked mischievous grin I'm beginning to associate with something tremendously naughty. “There's a first time for everything.”

He steps away, breathing heavily. His untucked T-shirt—the one I apparently ripped out of his shorts—hangs long enough to cover part, but not all, of his bulge. After he’s done adjusting himself so as not to scare any children in the store, he strides over to his abandoned books.

Riley’s face pokes itself around the end of the bookcase. “Is it safe to come into the True Crime section? Because I saw some mauling going on and ran for safety.”

“Har, har.” I push back my hair with a weak, shaking hand.

“Who's this?” Masters says, returning with his two books. Make that one of his books and the book that belongs to me if he would let me buy it.

“Riley Hart. Knox Masters. Masters, this is my roommate, Riley.”

“We're back to Masters, huh? Disappointing.” He shakes Riley’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“You guys look like you had an intense conversation.” She smirks.

“Ellie and I are discussing where she’s taking me on our first date. I hope it’s not to that dog movie. I swear he’ll die at the end and then I’ll sob like a fucking baby. Nearly had to walk out of Bridge to Terabithia. That shit is not good for my image.”