I couldn’t believe Shortcake was also skipping the rest of the day with me and had allowed me to make up for her birthday. On the eve of our mini-break from school, we’d spent the day in D.C. and had returned late.

“Guess what?” I slid my hands up her sides until they rested under her rib cage. “Got another idea.”

“Does it involve eggs?”

I laughed as I tugged her hips against mine. “It doesn’t involve eggs.”

Her eyes took on the glazed, unfocused quality that I had become familiar with over the last months. “It doesn’t?”

“But it does involve something equally tasty.” I pressed my mouth to her temple, tracing her cheekbone with my lips. “And it involves you, me, a bed, and very little, if any, clothing.”

“Does it now?”

“Yes.” I moved my hands to her lower back, my fingers brushing the pockets of her jeans. I kissed her brow. “What do you think?”

She tipped her head back, luring me in. The kiss started off slow, but then, like always, it turned into something different. Something hungry. Something that always wanted more.

My hands found their way under her shirt and I pulled away long enough to tug her shirt off. Our mouths crashed back together—lips, tongues, teeth. We bumped into the couch and I lost my balance. I fell backward, half on the couch, half off.

Avery’s laughter reached deep inside me and I captured her cheeks in my hands. Staring into her dancing eyes, the words formed in my thoughts.

I loved her.

That feeling had been there for a while, probably longer than I dared acknowledge. Maybe even from the first time she’d turned me down, I’d begun to fall in love with her.

I was in love with her this very second.

The realization shook me to the core. I stared into those warm, whiskey-colored eyes and I wanted to see my future there—our future there. Never in my life had I ever wanted to see that when I stared into a chick’s eyes, but with Avery Morgansten, I wanted nothing more.

My brain turned off and everything I did from that point on was fueled by those three words. I loved her. My hands shook and I was surprised by how fast I got her jeans off.

I cupped her breasts, running my thumbs over her nipples. Her muffled moan reverberated through me. I wanted—no, I needed to hear her call out my name. Dammit, I needed to hear her say those three words or at least feel them.

Thrusting my hand under her panties, I palmed her, rubbing my thumb over the spot that always made her cry out and it did. She undid my jeans and slipped her hand inside, wrapping her fingers around me.

The desire was almost too much. I thrust against her palm. “Avery.”