I love kissing him. It’s pretty much all I’ve thought about all day every day since the first time it happened. I want more. I’ve wanted more, and maybe this is a sign for me to initiate it.

I grab the small bottles of hotel-issued body soap and lather the washcloth with renewed vigor. My car broke down? Who cares! I get to share a bed with Jasper freaking Williams. If that’s not turning lemons into lemonade, then I don’t know what is.

After scrubbing away all the dirt and sweat of a day spent exploring, I moisturize with the watery hotel lotion and try to twist my curls into something presentable. The mirror is still fogged up, so I’m able to convince myself that the shower worked miracles and I look sexy(ish). I take one last deep breath before unlocking the bathroom door and stepping into the room wearing nothing but my towel.

Jasper is sitting on the edge of the bed with his eyes on the TV when I walk in.

“Do you like—” He starts and stops when he gets a good look at me. “Wow . . . you . . . wow.” The tips of his ears turn red. “Sorry. I don’t mean to stare. It’s . . .” He drops his gaze down my body, studying me like he’ll be tested later. “You’re really gorgeous.”

At the beginning of our little arrangement, I thought his compliments were empty. Now I know that’s not the case. From the way he kisses me to the thought he’s put into each of the dates he’s planned, I’m positive there’s something between us. Usually, I don’t think twice before going after someone I’m interested in, but he’s different. He’s dangerous. Because I know once I let all my guards down, I have no chance of ever putting them back up.

I just didn’t realize until this very moment that Jasper felt the same way.

“Jasper.” I take a small step in his direction and somehow my heart is beating harder than it did during the entire ride down the Arkansas.

His voice is a whisper of a breath when he speaks again. “If you want, I can—”

“Jasper,” I cut him off, repeating his name a little louder this time. He hesitates for a moment before lifting his chin, looking at me beneath those thick lashes of his. No matter how much I want to look away—to close my eyes and jump—I don’t. I hold eye contact and keep moving to him until my toes brush against his. “I want you to stay. I want . . . I want you.”

Then I drop my towel.

The sound of the TV fades into the background and all I hear is his sharp inhale of breath.