“I’m not in any hurry,” she says, tucking her blonde strands behind her ear. I can see her blushing. She's not used to this kind of thing, I can tell. Fuck, she might even be a virgin.

My cock reacts to that thought. To be the first inside her. I have to swallow down that desire, but it's not easy.

Why the fuck would she want someone like me?

A thrill ride during her naughty spring break, I remind myself. Of course. That’s what all the rich girls want while they’re here. A quick, dirty romp. I could give it to her. I could make her come right here under the moon until she can’t take anymore.

No, you can’t, the voice in my pocket reminds me.

“It’s getting late,” I say. My voice is gravel from the restraint.

“Okay,” she mumbles, looking at me with uncertainty. Dammit. She thinks I don’t want her.

Good. Let her think I’m a dickhead. It’s better for everyone that way.

I stand up and pull her to her feet. She hops up inches away from my body and I pull away, afraid she might feel the stiffness in my jeans, but she stares up at me with those sweet baby blues, and I want to attack her mouth with mine. I want to bite her lips and nibble at her neck, but I press out a deep sigh and turn back toward the way we came. The sooner she and I get vertical and moving, the better.

The walk back is quiet, but I can feel her presence next to me. When we get to the bike, I help her climb back on and let her put her arms around me again when I get in front of her. This time, her soft hands are pressed against my chest, then my arms, and my legs. She’s doing this on purpose, and it’s driving me nuts. It takes everything in me not to stop this bike.

When she tells me her condo building, I realize it's not far from where we’re at. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. I should be relieved, but I don’t want her to peel her body from mine. Where did this girl come from?

I pull up to her building and let the bike rumble in neutral while she gets off. “Thank you again,” she says as she looks at me, curling her hair behind her ears again. “I had a really nice time, and you didn’t have to do that.”

“My pleasure,” I answer, but I keep my face cold and blank. The effort it takes to keep my hands to myself is excruciating.

Then she does something I don't expect. She leans in for a hug, wrapping her arms around my neck, and I breathe in the flowery scent of her hair as she holds herself against me, longer than I think most hugs should be.

As she pulls away, she stops and lets her lips touch mine. It’s not a sexual kiss, but a soft acknowledgement that we should be touching. It’s her way of saying that this is what we could be doing—and so much more—if I wasn’t holding myself back. I don’t even kiss her back, and before I can even react, her lips are gone. She walks away without a word, still wearing my jacket.