Nothing could prepare me for Bea wrenching open the door to her apartment, breathless and smiling, draped in midnight black silk that clings to every curve like spilled ink poured over her body.

Air rushes out of me. I slump against the doorframe.

Bea grimaces. “That bad, huh?”

“That bad. And worse.” Pushing off the doorframe, I step closer, drinking her in. “God. Look at you.”

She bites her lip. “What?”

I clasp her hand, tangling our fingers. And then I bring her hand to my lips, kissing each knuckle, tucking her palm against my cheek. “You’re so beautiful. So impossibly beautiful.”

A rose-pink blush stains her cheeks. “Thank you, Jamie.” One step closer, and our fronts brush. Begrudgingly I let her hand go, so she can use both to adjust my bow tie. “You are devastatingly handsome. Leave it up to you to look like temptation in a tux, when I swear I’ve never met someone in one of these getups that didn’t look like an oversized penguin.”

A thick laugh bursts out of me. Bea tips her head, slides her thumbs carefully beneath my eyes. “Are you crying?”

I blink away the traitorous wetness. “Fall allergies.”

“Of course.” She nods. “The pollen count in this apartment is despicable.”

“It is. I’ll be having a word with your landlord.” Pulling her close, I press a soft, slow kiss to her lips and breathe her in.

You’re the best thing in my life, I want to tell her. You’re safe and real and perfectly imperfect. We started as a lie, and now we’re the truest thing I’ve ever known.

But I don’t say it, don’t speak those fragile words into the delicate space between us. There’s time to tell her, soon enough. After we’ve survived tonight. When it’s quiet and dark and just us, Bea wrapped up in my arms.

For now, I content myself with telling her every other way that I can—in my hands wandering her waist, the hunger in our kiss. I walk her backward, kicking the door shut, until I’ve pressed her against the wall, her fingers toying gently with the close-cropped hair at my neck.

“Jamie,” she breathes, arching into my touch as I kiss my way down her neck and find the soft swell of her breast, the hardened tip of her nipple. Her hand slides down my back, then wanders between us, stroking me where I’m getting harder by the second. “I can’t believe I’m the one saying this,” she says faintly, “but we’re going to be late if we don’t—”

“Right. Yes.” I pull back, breathing roughly. I straighten the strap of her gown and let my gaze trail her from head to toe.