“Ready for bed?” I ask.

“You obviously are,” he replies.

Except I’m not. I’m tired, sure, but the hunger I repressed earlier is suddenly raring back to the surface. I don’t act on it now, though.

I head toward the stairs, and Beck follows. The upstairs hallway is empty, and I enter my room, shutting the door behind us.

I yank my pink sweatshirt over my head and swap out my sweatpants for a pair of sleep shorts, feeling Beck’s eyes on me the whole time. He strikes just as I’m pulling a tank top out of my dresser.

“Do you know what I’ve spent the past hour thinking about, knowing this was all you had on underneath?” he asks, pressing up behind me.

I push my hips back against his. “Maybe you should tell me.”

Soft kisses trail along my shoulder, and I moan when he reaches my neck. Loudly. Desire floods me, so potent and all-consuming I can’t think straight.

Warm hands slide up my stomach, and I buck back against him as they reach my breasts. “I was thinking about doing this,” Beck murmurs against my neck, before sucking on some of the sensitive flesh.

I’m so close to coming from that alone it’s embarrassing. I struggle, trying to turn around so I can touch him more. His arms pin me in place. “Beck,” I whimper, rubbing against him. I roll my neck so I can see him better, and he responds with a blistering kiss.

I was overwhelmed before; I’m drowning now. Sinking through ecstasy and euphoria. His tongue is urgent, seeking immediate entrance and plundering once it’s granted.

Beck kisses me urgently, fervently, fiercely. I squirm, still desperate to touch him. He still doesn’t let me. “What are you doing?” I whisper.

“Skydiving,” he responds, and I get it. This sweeping, exhaustive feeling feels a lot like I imagine jumping out of a plane might. The inability to think about anything else. The overwhelming sensation. But just because I can conceptualize it doesn’t mean I’m ready to leap. It’s not an athletic undertaking I can train for.

“I’d rather do this,” I suggest, gyrating against his very obvious hard-on.

Strong arms drop, and I’m finally able to twist around and look at him. All the emotion has drained from Beck’s face, leaving behind nothing but that same stoic expression that blocked the June sun on Kluvberg’s field. “That’s not the best idea.”

He walks to the right side of the bed, sliding under the covers before I have the chance to blink more than twice.

Excuse me, what? Call me vain or a sex goddess, but that’s never happened before.

Never.

The fact that it happened with Beck makes it that much worse.