I sigh as I settle back into the soft cushions. I watch as the lead and his current date make contrived conversation, biting back more sarcastic comments. And then Beck’s left hand settles on my knee, and I lose all sense of what’s happening on the television. I glance over at him, but his attention seems to be on the show. His thumb traces small circles on my skin, and zings of arousal shoot up my thigh.

I bite my bottom lip and shift closer to him. His right arm slides down my back, dipping underneath the hem of the crewneck sweatshirt I put on after my shower. I’m not wearing anything underneath besides a bra, and he discovers that.

Rough callouses scrape against my lower back as his palm drags across the skin, leaving goose bumps in its wake. I arch against him involuntarily, and Anne’s pretty much got the center of the couch to herself. I’m partly on the cushion, mostly on Beck’s lap. He keeps rubbing his hand against my skin but doesn’t venture any farther north.

It’s an innocent touch, but there’s nothing virtuous about the wetness pooling between my thighs. Beck’s eyes don’t waver from the television, which makes it even hotter. Either he’s completely oblivious to the effect his touch has on me, or he’s actually paying attention to the show.

After a few more minutes, Beck’s hand stills. It remains on the small of my back, searing into my spine and radiating heat through my whole torso. Once I get my libido under control, I snuggle closer so my head is resting on his chest.

I stopped paying attention to the show a long time ago.

Now, I’m focused on nothing but Beck. I slip my hand underneath his shirt, and he inhales sharply. I revel in the knowledge that I’ve still got some power over him, too, as I close my eyes. I block out the sound of the annoying commentary on the television and focus on the sensation of being held by Adler Beck.

The next thing I’m aware of is whispers.

“… leave her down here?” Cressida’s voice.

“She spent last night on the floor. This is an upgrade.” Emma this time.

I open my eyes and glance to the right. Beck’s already looking at me. “Hey, sleepy. You missed some drama.”

“He sent Madison home!” Emma exclaims.

I sit up and stretch. “I don’t even know who that is.”

“The hot-air balloon girl,” Cressida supplies.

“Guess there are worse things to be known by if you’re on a dating reality television show,” I comment, standing.

“I’m going to bed,” Anne says, yawning. “Practice earlier kicked my ass.”

“Imagine how terrible it would have been if we lost yesterday,” Cressida comments, heading toward the stairs after her.

Emma follows.

It’s just me and Beck in the living room.