“Bea.” Jamie’s arm is around mine, tucking me against him.

“Jamie!” I frown at him over my shoulder. “What are you doing?”

His cheeks are pink. There’s an intense glint to his hazel eyes as he sets my drink on a neighboring bar-height table. “Stand still for a second.”

Of course, because he just told me to be still, I fidget in his arms. “Jamie. Let go of me.”

“Bea, please. Your—”

I pull out of his arms and storm away. “Yeesh,” I mutter.

Sweeping up my ball, I hustle to the end of the lane to cool off. I don’t do well being unexpectedly touched. It startles me like a jolt of static electricity and makes me desperate for personal space. It’s a sensory thing, but Jamie doesn’t know I’m on the spectrum. I haven’t explained my sensory issues. Clearly, that has to happen, considering this is our first public outing and I already almost lost my shit on him.

“Bea!” Jules hisses, shuffling toward me, careful not to slip in her bowling shoes. “Wait!”

“Juliet,” I snap, bringing the ball to my chin. “Just give me some space.”

Swinging back, ball in hand, I hear Jamie’s voice calling my name too late. My bowling ball–weighted hand slams right into his groin, sending a hoarse rush of air whooshing out of him. I spin around, dropping the ball clumsily as Jamie crumples to the ground.

“Oh my God, Jamie! I’m so sorr—Ack!”

His hand wraps around my wrist and yanks me down with him. In one smooth move, his body rests over mine, pinning me to the dusty floor. Nearby pins clatter as a ball crashes into them. I stare up at Jamie, stunned.

“Sorry,” he wheezes. He drops his head to the crook of my neck, gasping for air. I recognize his stuttered breathing as the universal sound of someone whose nuts are in agony. Even as he’s suffering, he holds himself so that his full weight doesn’t crush me. But it’s not enough. I still feel warmth seeping from his clothes, those long legs and their hard muscles. Every time he inhales, his ribs brush mine, and a shiver of heat ripples through me.

I try very hard not to focus on the thick weight at his groin that’s nestled against my pelvis, but it’s really hard not to. He’s big and heavy, breathing roughly against my skin, and my runaway imagination insists on imagining that’s just how he’d sound and feel right after he pounded me right into a glorious, screaming orgasm.

I’m stunned. And super turned-on.

When Jamie finally speaks, his voice is marginally closer to normal. “Are you all right?”