Jake jackknifes to sitting so his face is inches from mine, those deep blue eyes alight from the shard of moonlight filtering in from the tent’s vent. They narrow a fraction as he inspects me kneeled next to his legs and his open duffle bag.

“My phone is dead.” I breathe out past the booming of my racing heart.

“Your phone is dead?”

I nod slowly, staring at his mouth that’s pulled into a firm line fighting something that resembles a smirk.

“And?”

I gulp down an ocean of saliva. “And I need to charge it.”

I can’t look away from his mouth. It’s nice too.

For fuck’s sake …

Therapy. Lots of therapy.

“And?” He inches his head to the side a fraction.

“I was looking for the key to the truck.”

“In my bag?”

I nod, ripping my focus from his lips to meet his gaze.

Jake surrenders to a cocky smile.

Asshole.

His gaze dips to my mouth, and it does very unwanted things to my body—specifically to parts of my body that are supposed to be on strike from giving a single shit about any man.

“But it’s dark.”

“Yes,” I say with a ridiculous raspiness to my voice.

“So you’re sniffing them out … specifically in my underwear?”

“What?” I jerk my head back.

Playful eyes find mine, underscored by a gotcha grin.

“No, you sicko.”

“Then what’s behind your back.”

“Nothing.” My spine grows an inch. He’s not going to make me squirm—anymore.

“Avery,” he says my name a syllable at a time as he inches closer.

He’s going to kiss me. Why is he going to kiss me? I hate him. And men. And tattoos. And vegans with freakishly soft feet.

My heart stops and the air in my lungs freezes as his cheek brushes past mine. Of course my stupid nipples boing out because they just don’t know any better.

God … he smells good. It’s not just his clothes.

My lips part and my eyes leaden as his lips ghost next to my ear and his hand slides along my arm. Every inch of his naked torso radiates heat, and it’s igniting mine.

“Give me my underwear,” he whispers.

It takes my mushy mind several seconds to realize he’s not going to kiss me or seduce me—NOT that I want him to do either.

I don’t.

My nipples are just being rebels. I’ll have a talk with them later.

After a pause, I jerk my arm away as he tries to take his shirt from me. “It’s a shirt you big jerk, not your—”

The letters J-O-C on a wide waistband come into view as I dangle them between us.

My nose wrinkles. I drop them like they’re on fire.

Jake, of course, grins. “The dirty ones are in the side pocket if that smell does it for you even more.”