Her hands clenched tight around the front of my shirt, driving the buttons deeper into my chest.

My hand cupped her ass. Her skirt had ridden up. The soft cotton of her underwear snapped me out of the mission powered by my body.

I stood. Bay partially came with me, nearly falling to the floor before I grabbed her. Hunched over, I helped her stand.

“I’ve got to go.”

“Dare…”

“Everything’s fine.” Walking was nearly impossible. With my back to her, I adjusted my erection, cursing the denim and zipper torture tag team going on down below.

“Why do I feel like you’re always running away from me?”

I straightened with my hand on the door knob. “Because the last thing I want to do is hurt you, Bay.”

Her fingers brushed against my shoulders. “I’m not scared.”

“You would be if I told you what was going through my head while you were on my lap.”

“I’m braver than you think.”

“I don’t have any doubt.” My Adam’s apple rocked up and down. Releasing my grip on the doorknob, I turned to her.

“But if you knew how hard it was for me to keep myself from ripping off those panties, throwing you back against the couch and slamming my dick into you until you were clawing at my back and screaming at the top of your lungs, you’d probably think it was better that I leave. You’re a virgin Bay.”

Blood pounded in my veins like a stampede of a hundred horses. My engine was revving all for the dark-haired girl standing in front of me, looking like I’d scared the shit out of her.

She sucked in a sharp breath, her unblinking eyes locked onto mine.

“Yes, I remembered. It would be pretty hard to forget.” I squeezed her in a tight hug and dropped a kiss on the side of her head. “I’ll see you later.”

Did I run like a scared asshole? Yes. This pattern seemed to happen more than I’d like with Bay.

Don’t fuck this up.

Don’t break something that can’t be unbroken.

Don’t make her regret the day she ever met me.

26

Bay

Dare’s confession had me in a daze long after he’d left. I probably stood staring at the closed door for at least ten minutes.

He hadn’t scared me with his confession—okay, maybe a little bit. But only because I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. The flutter in my stomach had travelled lower with each kiss. The rough pads of his fingers against my skin had felt raspy and powerful.

He wasn’t avoiding me, at least. My mom had four days off, which meant no more movie nights, but a flurry of texts had kept me up late into the night.

I was pushing hard on the flirtation buttons, and every time Dare tried to steer me back to more neutral territory, I course corrected or at least tried to. My seduction bag of tricks wasn’t exactly overflowing.