“Say it,” I whisper, sparks of desire firing all over the place. “You can’t, can you?” I place my finger lightly on her shoulder, making her twitch and me smile, and I trace a perfect trail up her taut, smooth flesh until I’m gently pressing the pad of my index finger on the soft void below her ear. Her breath noticeably hitches. Her pulse quickens. Her heartbeats match mine.

Heavy. Frantic. So alive.

“Boom . . . boom . . . . boom,” I whisper. “I can feel it, Ava.”

She’s as stiff as a board, pushing herself into the wall. “Please, leave.”

“Put your hand over my heart.” My black, dead heart. I take her hand and rest it on my shirt, just so she can appreciate exactly how I’m responding to her. This isn’t a one-way street. I need her to know that.

“What’s your point?”

“You are one stubborn woman.” It’s infuriating. “Let me ask you the same question.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, why are you trying to stop the inevitable? What’s your point, Ava?” I force her to meet my gaze by gently encasing her neck with my palm, bringing her face to mine with the lightest of pressure. I dip and ghost my lips over her ear, enticing a breathy gasp. Oh God, help me, her smell. “There it is,” I whisper, the relief of hearing that tiny sound of submission emboldening me, sending my mouth on a leisurely tour of her sweet skin. “You feel it.”

She does nothing to stop me. She lets me at her, finally, and I continue to work her with my mouth, making my way across her jaw, my target those soft, beautiful lips. I’m nearly where I need to be.

Nearly there.

Just a few more pecks and my tongue will be meeting hers.

My pace quickens at the thought, until the squawking of a phone suddenly breaks the delightful sound of her ragged, sex-fueled breaths.

My lips aren’t on hers anymore, and her palms are set firmly on my chest. “Stop, please.”

I sag, pulling my phone from my pocket and looking down at the screen. Sarah? Does she have a radar on me? “Fuck.” I stab at the reject button, send it to voicemail, and return my attention to Ava. “You still haven’t said it.”

She hesitates but then draws breath, and I dread the words I’m about to hear. “I’m not interested,” she whispers, sounding desperate, but I can’t work out if she’s desperate to get rid of me or desperate for me to prove her wrong. “You have to stop this. Whatever you think you felt, what you think I felt, you’re mistaken.”

A burst of laughter flies from my mouth. “Think? Ava, don’t you dare try and pass this off as a figment of my imagination. Did I imagine that? Just then, was that my imagination? Give me some credit.”