“Can I tell you a secret?” he asked. Goose bumps broke out down my arms.

“Of course,” I said. “You know a lot of mine now.”

That wasn’t even remotely true.

He propped himself up on one elbow, making direct eye contact. I could see he was nervous. “My sophomore year of high school, when we were going to group all the time and walking to school together, I had the biggest crush on you, Tabitha. If it wasn’t painfully obvious.”

My eyebrows shot up to my hairline. “You did? And, well, no, it wasn’t obvious. Like, at all.”

A petal-soft glow suffused my limbs as his words fully sunk in. It made me feel like I was back in high school right now.

“I thought you were unbelievably beautiful. And charming. And kind at a time when I needed a friend.” His brow furrowed. “I always had Rowan. And other kids from the neighborhood too. But boxing, it’s solitary. It’s a team of one. My coaches, my trainers, they were in the corner with me during a match but they weren’t putting their body on the line the way I was.” His gaze moved to a spot just over my shoulder, jaw muscle flexing. “When people said shit about my family or I felt too awkward in every social situation, knowing you understood made me feel less alone. And I feel that way about you now.”

That poor, clumsy heart of mine. It kept opening whether I wanted it to or not, racing like a cheetah with every word out of Dean’s mouth. I brushed his sleep-mussed curls from his forehead. Tipped my head up and kissed him.

“I was always, always happy to see you and talk to you, Dean,” I said. “In fact, the first time you gave me a real smile that night at Benny’s, I remembered that making you smile had been a favorite task of mine.”

The one that appeared on his face—shadowed in amber lamplight—had my toes curling against the back of his calves.

“When I saw you at Benny’s that first night, I remembered thinking the word wowza,” I added.

“Wowza?” he drawled, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, well, I might not have had a crush on you in school, but I’m sure my immediate and very awkward crush on you recently has been hysterical for you to witness.”

“You mean like the time you called me a Sports Illustrated cover model?”

I covered my eyes. “Yes. And all my other babbling attempts at flirting that have failed miserably.”

His lips ghosted across my jaw. “You’re wearing my shirt and naked underneath. Wouldn’t call that failed. And I like you flirting with me. A lot.”

His rough palm skated down my thigh, dipping under that shirt to grip my hip. His mouth was doing that leisurely neck-kissing thing that never ceased to turn me on.