The elevator dings and we tumble inside, still kissing. I manage to slap at the button for floor three, and we kiss while gliding past the first and second floors—thankfully, no one gets on—and we don’t break apart until we reach our destination. The doors open behind me and I pull him backward into the hallway. Before I fall from our shared momentum, Miles wraps an arm around my waist to steady me, and before I can blink, my back’s flush against the wall as we make out like it’s prom night. Anyone could walk by and we wouldn’t notice.

Miles’s lips are the best combination of soft and firm, his hands are warm as they skim up and down my arms, and his tongue is a cool, subtle peppermint mixed with chocolate. The taste of him spreads awareness throughout my body, a cascade of sensation.

I’m not sure how we get through the door and into the room; one of us must have slammed the special key card of the fuuuuu-ture against its panel, but once we’re inside we’re back at it, kissing with renewed vigor.

Breathless, my hands splayed on his chest, I hold him at bay for a moment.

“I feel like I’m taking advantage of you,” I whisper.

He looks amused. “You’re not.”

“I drugged you, and now I’m having my way with you . . .”

“We drugged ourselves,” he reminds me. He slides his fingertips against mine, the barest movement, yet it sends tiny shock-waves through my hand. I close my eyes, in thrall to his touch. A ball of heat unfurls in my belly.

“Besides,” Miles says, “doesn’t the weed take a while to, like, overcome us?”

My eyes pop open. “ ‘Overcome us’?” I quote back, laughing. “You mean, ‘kick in’?”

He grins. “Right.”

“It’ll take at least an hour before we’ll feel the effects,” I admit, “but West Coast weed is way stronger than you’re used to.”

He raises a skeptical eyebrow. “I can handle it.”

“Famous last words.”

He’s the one who steps back this time, putting distance between us. “But obviously we can stop if—”

“I don’t want to stop,” I say quickly. “Unless you want to stop—”

In response, he moves back in and sweeps his mouth lightly across mine. He feels so damn good, so strong yet gentle, that I have to fight down a moan. It’s been way too long since I’ve been kissed like this: reverently.

“What if we set a timer, thirty minutes to be on the safe side, so we’ll know when to cool things off?” I ask. “After that we go back to the way we were before. Except stoned.”

“Sure, if you like.” He looks adorably disheveled. “But how will we pass the time?”

“I’m game for whatever feels good,” I clarify softly. “Do you have a condom?”