Then, I have no idea. If the tease is what keeps Devin coming back, I need to slow this way down.

“Whoa. Easy, Tiger.” My voice is thicker than maple syrup.

Devin growls in my ear, but doesn’t pull away. I push him away with my fist still balled around a handful of his shirt. He leans back, not fighting me. He locks his arm around me, holding us together. He grinds his hard length against the apex of my thighs, making me see stars. I want him, but I want there to be an us more.

I slide both my hands to his chest, smoothing out the wrinkled shirt. Again. I’m staring at his pecs, refusing to meet those coal-dark eyes that I’m sure are burning embers. I clear my throat, shaking the lust out of my voice before I try to reason with him.

“I’m not a sex-on-the-desk-before-the-second-date kind of girl.” I’m trying to keep it light, despite the torture we’re subjecting ourselves to. The truth is I am a sex-on-the-desk kind of girl. Let’s get real. When it comes to Devin, I’m a sex-wherever-the-hell-we-end-up, dear-God-just-take-me-now kind of girl. But I’m aiming for girlfriend status here. And if he’s half as good in bed—or on desk—as he is at kissing, I’ll slip over the edge from pushy girlfriend into obsessed stalker.

I slam the brakes on our make-out session so fast it gives my vagina whiplash. Sorry, girl. Devin drops his head to my shoulder. He grinds his hips against mine again with a soft moan. Patience is a virtue Devin’s thick cock does not possess.

“Second date. Tonight,” he demands.

Desire clouds my mind, making it hard to find a coherent answer. “Can’t,” I answer on a pant. “Study group.” I’m kicking myself for turning him down, but the guilt of bailing on my friends is too strong.

“Tomorrow,” he demands in a deep, sexy rumble that makes my ovaries scream for more.

“Can’t,” I say again. Everything below my waist is begging me to reconsider. My heart is shaking in terror and my reason is barely holding on. “Family dinner.”

He takes a deep inhale and nips at my neck, the frustration driving him crazy. “Friday?” he pleads.

I’m supposed to be at a frat party with Michelle on Friday night. I promised her I’d be there. Despite ditching me last time, she’s still insisting she needs a wing woman. I fight against the guilt of flaking on her. We have a whole damn house full of sorority sisters dying to go to frat parties. She can find someone else to be her wing woman for sure. If I’m going to see Devin again any time soon, I need to say no to something else. I need to choose him.

“Okay. Friday.”