Everything. I want everything. Unable to speak, I could only nod. And then he was leaning in again, mouth finding mine, and it was sweet and soft and perfect. His hesitance was still there, and in a way it contributed to the perfection. No one had ever treated me so carefully, so gently, and the pressure in my chest grew with every pass of his lips. I seriously didn’t know how to process this level of tenderness, but all I knew was that I wanted more. All of it. I wanted everything.

This time when he pulled back, questions still in his eyes, I chased after him, claiming another kiss before I found my words. “You are a good guy, you know? The best guy. And even good guys get to have fun sometimes. If you want that, I mean…” I let my voice trail off, suddenly unsure again.

“I want you.” He squeezed my upper arms. “No question there. But—”

“No but.” I was practically levitating at his admission, mood soaring. He wanted me. Everything else could figure itself out. “I want you too. And you make me want to be a better person. More like you. And that has to count for something, right?”

“It does.” He gave me another soft kiss, this one lingering, evolving into a deeper exploration as our tongues tangled. We shuffled closer to the bed, and my sketchbook hit the floor. I’d never wanted anything this badly in my whole life. Not making varsity soccer, not winning my athletic scholarship, nothing compared to how much I wanted him. He swept his hands up and down my back, and I stretched into the contact, preening like a cat and no longer caring about playing it cool.

“Milo?” Jasper’s voice was all husky and low and made heat unfurl low in my gut. “I really don’t want the chair bed.”

“Good.” I interrupted him with another pass of my mouth, putting all the warmth flowing through me into the kiss.

“Wow. You make me feel like I chugged a two-liter of soda.”

My head tilted as I considered him. “Like you might puke or like you might never sleep again?”

“Definitely not puking.” He laughed and tugged me the rest of the way to the bed. “More like my heart won’t stop racing.”

“Mine either,” I admitted as I sat next to him on the edge of the bed. “But, like, I’m the one who should be worried. You’ve done this before.”