The last week in January is as glacial and dismal as one would expect, with the sky full of slate gray clouds. The temperature is so cold your breath turns into a winter frost before it ever leaves your nostrils. Leland University gleams like a snow globe full of sparkle and glitter as the students don their best cardinal and gold knit caps, mittens, and scarfs and file into the Cougar Basketball Dome for a game against our rivals, the crosstown Bixby Bears.

Sophie and Ember have decided to join me, decked out in their matching Leland sweatshirts. Rowen is seated next to Sophie, so she might as well be in another world, even though she’s right beside me. Ember sits to my left, howling with approval at all the Cougar b-ball players as they make their way onto the court. She waves wildly once she spots Lane, and he does a double take our way before grinning from ear to ear. I didn’t tell him I would be coming. I’m not even sure if I should be here according to the rules, but I’ve never been big on rules to begin with. Lane jogs over. Thanks to my big fat foot we scored courtside seats. Rowen might have had something to do with it, but I’d like to think the universe is just that generous. Get your heart and your ankle broken all in the same year—you’ve got a couple of courtside seats coming your way. Okay, so the heartbreak didn’t exactly take place in this calendar year, and technically, the ankle is not broken, but my world is rife with exaggeration and so the analogy still fits.

“You’re here,” Lane pants as if he had already run the length of the court twice over. He leans in and offers me a hearty embrace. And as much as my mouth has been watering for one of his electric kisses, Seth and Petra have warned us both against public displays of affection. If they knew we hit it with our mouths for hours at a time last Saturday night—right in front of that gargantuan picture window in Lane’s apartment—they might actually boot us off the show. Now there’s something to consider.

“Of course, I’m here.” I hold back a smile. “I’m rooting for Bixby, by the way.” I come just shy of winking, and he laughs.

“I talked to Petra this morning.” His dimples dig in and make my stomach do that obnoxious roller coaster thing. “She says you and I have the pick of the dates this week.”

My mouth falls open. There was an email from Seth this morning, but I never got around to opening it. “That’s great! You know I love to be in control.”

“So do I.” His lids hood low as if the context was purely sexual, and knowing Lane it is. “If Bixby wins, I choose the place first. If Leland wins, I’ll let you take me wherever you want. I’ll make sure you go first.” He looks to Em as she coos at the offer. “Make her root for the home team.”

Ember rocks her arm into mine. “I would, but I think we both know she’s too mean to do it. And wait a minute. If you’re both picking dates this week—you both win either way.”

Lane’s grin widens an inch. “I always win either way.” He takes off running backward. “Root for the team. I’ll make sure you come first.”

Ember lights up in hysterics at the double entendre. Lane always did make sure I came first in more ways than one.

Sophie leans in as the game gets going and points to the stands to our left. “Isn’t that your brother up there with his girlfriend?”

I turn and squint and, sure enough, Wen and Carrie are each waving a Bixby flag.

“Yup, that’s them. She’s such a traitor. You’d think she’d show a little solidarity to her own campus.”

Em knocks into me. “Look who’s talking.”

“Yeah, but I was simply doing it to give Lane a hard time. And look at the good that’s come out of it. He’s going to win the game for us.”

The game goes on with Lane running that ball up and down the court so fast I get dizzy just trying to keep my eyes on him. The buzzers go off intermittently, and the crowd is so loud I can’t hear myself think, but I’m fine with it because I’m screaming my head off as if I had money on the line. Who am I kidding? I have something far more valuable than money on the line. I’ve slid my heart across the table once again to someone I swore I’d never let near it. The final buzzer sounds, and Lane tosses the ball one more time, nothing but net from the middle of the court, and the Cougar Dome ignites in a riot of cheers. Leland held the victory for some time, no thanks to Lane and his continual hotshots he managed to sneak in. Yes, it’s true. Lane Cooper dominated that court, and if I’m to believe him, he did it all for me. And I do believe him. I hate how fast and how hard I’m falling. I’m terrified of what it’s going to feel like when I hit rock bottom.

“Hey”—Sophie rocks into me while bodies stream onto the court—“you look as if someone just died. Everything okay?”

“It’s great.” I look over at Lane as he’s mobbed by his teammates, and it hits me like a jolt. “Oh no,” I whisper, shaking my head as if it weren’t so. I’ve fallen in love with him again. My God, did I ever fall out? My heart thuds unnaturally as Sophie and Rowen stand to greet his buddies from the team. Ember is long gone, chatting up ten of Lane’s teammates, sizing up their biceps and packages without any shame whatsoever. She’s a free spirit that way. Ember doesn’t believe in love or relationships. She thinks Sophie and Rowen are cute the way one might think a litter of kittens were cute, but for sure she’s not looking to be someone’s plus one. Not ever according to her.

Lane comes over with that greedy grin, sweating profusely, his cheeks spotted with color, and my heart drums faster, my body heat spikes as my adrenaline rises. I want Lane Cooper. I want him as my own once again. And this time, I swear I’d do things right.

I stand and let out a whoop as he comes at me with his arms stretched wide, and an unwanted body interjects itself between us.

I bounce back and frown at the person who dares interrupt what could have been the sweatiest embrace on record.

“Wen,” I say as I accept a brief hug from my troublemaker of a brother. “And Carrie.” I manufacture a smile just for her. “I guess it’s a twofer kind of night. Too bad for me.”

“Forget you, too,” she quips. “I’m all about this guy.” She dives over Lane’s sweaty body as if she means it, and I cringe for my brother. Carrie has always been a little too friendly with the guys. I’m not sure what that’s about, but unlike my big bro, I try not to involve myself in their private business.

Wen leans in close, the smile wiped right off his face. “What’s this about?”

“Would you relax? I came to the game. I do attend the same school, you know? He saw me and wanted to say hello. Is that a crime?” It’s mostly a big ball of flimsy excuses, but who cares? I’m tired of tap-dancing around my brother.

His jaw tightens as he looks to Lane. If looks could kill, Wen’s entire body would be committing a crime right about now. “Vi, I just don’t want to see you getting hurt again, that’s all. I know it’s painful, but don’t forget that things didn’t exactly work out for the two of you the last time.” Carrie bounces back in his arm, and he catches her as if she were a ball. “Get your things.” He nods to my purse. “Carrie and I will help get you back to your room.”

“I came with friends.” I glance around for either Sophie or Ember to help support my theory, but neither is to be seen. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Okay.” Wen looks furious as if it were anything but okay. He looks to Lane and holds out a hand for a high five, and Lane obliges. “Take care, man. I’ll catch the game next Tuesday. You’re a maniac on that court, bro.” That mean glare he’s giving Lane speaks an entirely different sentiment. “Don’t mess with her, man. If you know what’s good for you.” He takes off, managing to deflate both Lane and me in the process.

“Sorry.” I lean on my crutches until I’m tilting toward him. “He’s just—”

“Looking out for you.” He offers a platonic pat to my back. “If you want to hang out a few minutes, I’ll walk you back to your dorm.”

I shoot a look to the door and catch Wen craning his neck in this direction.

“That’s okay. I really did come with friends. You know, I won’t admit this to anyone, but I came to root for you tonight.”

That bionic grin of his ignites once again, dimples and all. “I know,” he says it quiet, sheepish. “I’ll see you Wednesday night. Plan a good one for us. Keep it G, would you?” He winks before taking off for the locker room.

Keep it G. I shake my head as he disappears out of sight. And then it hits me. The perfect date for Wednesday night. I know just what Lane and I will do, and we will keep it G—right up until the cameras and the swarm of interns take off. That’s when things will really heat up. I’m not keeping it G with Lane anymore.

I glance to the exit to find both Wen and Carrie out of sight.

Sorry, Wen. Looks like I’m diving into rough waters again with Lane Cooper. I’m hoping if we swim down deep enough together to where it’s nice and calm, we can avoid the storm brewing over our heads. But I’ve already dived in, headfirst. And this time I’m opening my entire heart to him. That was my demise the last time. I tried to hold on tight to something that never belonged to me in the first place.

My heart has always belonged to Lane.

---

Moon Ridge is home to so many topographical treasures, but what lies at the end of the twisted Wild Rose Trail is one of this tiny town’s best-kept secrets, Paradise Falls. The last summer Lane and I were dating, we ventured this way to hike the trail and ended up on a skinny-dipping adventure that turned into a trauma for a troop of Girl Scouts. And the world is now very familiar with that story since we outed ourselves quite liberally that first night in Finley Hall. But tonight, despite the sprinkle of snow, the lack of any real attraction to being outdoors for more than a few minutes, I’ve requested that Lane and I have cocoa and s’mores by a fire, and the TSE more than obliged. They set up a monolithic yurt—a tent on steroids, and inside there are a thousand candles—all screaming fire hazard—surrounding a small four-by-four table with a fire pit in it, and next to that are two long metal stakes and all the fixings for s’mores, including a vat of hot cocoa. The opening to the structure faces the falls, and you can hear the quiet rush of water in the distance. It’s a magical scene, and now I’m wishing Seth and all his buddies would leave as soon as Lane arrives.

Seth comes over with a nervous grin wobbling on his lips, slicking back the hair he doesn’t have on his head. “Production wants to know if maybe tonight is the night you could, you know…” He tilts his head as if to indicate something salacious.

“Start in with the porn moves? I hope you’ve got good music because it’s really all about the backbeat.”

He inches away, his brows suddenly tethered together. “Kiss. You know, smooch it out.”

My stomach lurches. Lane and I did smooch it out, as Seth so indelicately puts it, in private, the way God and my brother intended.

“If I kiss Lane, that’s as good as coming out as a couple. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but our thing is sort of banter—or just hatred in general.”

“Hatred?” he balks at the idea. “Violet, you and Lane are getting along better than any of the other exes. At this point, you’re looking like our only shot. Dexter Houston can tolerate a lot of things. Being wrong isn’t one of them. Are you sure you’re not feeling anything for this guy?”

I hold up a hand that clearly says back up. “So let me get this straight. I should make out with Lane so that Dexter can save face?”

Seth grimaces at what is otherwise known as the truth.

I’m attacked by hair and makeup at once and miked up at the very same time. Soon, it’s just me seated on the cozy loveseat hauled in by production, and I count the seconds before—

Lane Cooper fills the entry like a gladiator. Like a soldier that’s been off to war and is back to claim what’s his. He looks amazing in his signature flannel and jeans, his hair slicked back just for me.

“Hey, beautiful.” He comes in, and I jump up to meet him with a full embrace.

I land my mouth over his ear and whisper, “Tonight, you’re mine.” I pull back in time to see his eyes enlarge the size of cantaloupes, his lips twitching with promise.

“Violet and Lane”—that mysterious deep voice vibrates over the speakers—“tonight is ladies’ choice. Violet chose Paradise Falls, a location that meant a lot to the two of you once. There is a little twist. In an effort to help ease you into feeling like a couple, we’re going to bring in some of your friends. Consider this your first double date as a reconnected couple.”

Reconnected.

I glance to Lane. I can’t help but feel as if the TSE is cramming this down our throats. Not that I mind. God no, but something about it feels so contrived. It’s not a wonder that the other couples are struggling. People break up for a reason. You can’t just put an egg back together because you think it’s a good idea. Nope. It begins to rot, smell like sulfur, and the end goal is impossible to ever achieve. But Lane and I are different, aren’t we? A part of me fills with panic as Lane helps me take a seat on the tiny couch, and it’s only then I note a bench-like rocker set on the side of the fire pit. And here I thought they were simply giving us options, giving the place a homey appeal.

Lane sits close and wraps an arm around my waist, and I curl into him, feeling every bit the couple the TSE hopes to sell. But honestly, I just feel like a fake. Lane and I haven’t even touched on the thorny mountain of our past—who, what, where, when, and why it happened. And the TSE isn’t exactly prodding us in that department either. No. We’ve swept it right under the rug, tucked it away for someday, or perhaps never. But that churning in my gut realizes that never is not an option. Too many skeletons dangle between us, four of them actually. No. This is simply pretend. A made-for-TV happily ever after that will rapidly come undone once those cameras are switched off for the very last time.

A familiar face peeks inside the yurt, and I scream as soon as I realize who it is.

“Sophie!” I shout so loud my voice circles the room as an echo.

Sophie and Rowen pile in, and we exchange the obligatory hugs as the two of them get settled on the bench next to us. Rowen and Lane help put the marshmallows on the elongated skewers, each with its own wooden handle, while chitchatting about football, basketball, and hanging out at the Underground.

“Do the two of you know each other?” My mouth falls open, and something warms inside of me at the idea.

“Yes.” Lane presses out a guilty smile, his dimples dig in deep, and my thighs quiver just thinking about the things I get to do to those dimples later, to that entire body.

Rowen nods as if acknowledging it. “Lane and I met at the Underground last semester. He was at the bar when I needed some advice, and he gave it. I knew he had an ex. I just didn’t know it was you.”

A soft giggle comes from me. “I would be the infamous ex in question.”

We share a warm laugh, and Sophie leans over and taps my knee. “So, Lane and Vi, how do you think you’re going to feel once this is over and you’re officially together again? I mean, it certainly looks as if you’re moving in that direction. Does it feel like you picked right up where you left off?”

Lane and I exchange a sober glance.

“No.” A small laugh dies in my throat. “Picking up where we left off could prove lethal to everyone in here. I was partial to throwing things.”

Lane gives a wistful shake of the head. “And I was partial to catching them with my head.”

Rowen grunts out a laugh. “But you’re past that now. It’s behind you.”

Lane and I steal another glance, letting me know he’s just as unsure as I am.

Sophie’s marshmallow catches fire. She brings it forward in a panic, and Rowen helps her blow it out. The entire quasi-dangerous event ends with the two of them locked in a kiss, and the tension between Lane and me grows by a mile. That public display of affection Soph and Rowen are shooting off somehow exemplifies the fact Lane and I aren’t anywhere near that stage. We may have been back at his apartment, but this is the big league, and obviously our lips have chosen to stay home.

The evening wears on with Sophie and me divulging our messy dorm habits to the population at large, really meaning to entertain Lane and Rowen. It feels easy like this, natural. And it’s becoming so very easy to ignore that enormous white elephant in the room. The past.

Rowen looks to the two of us, his eyes smile all on their own as he watches us for a moment. “You know, the two of you make it look so easy. I’d never know that just a few weeks back you weren’t speaking.”

“Right?” Sophie balks with amusement. “I mean, Lane would show up to the Underground, and Vi would leave in five seconds flat. Or vice versa. It’s as if they went from enemies to lovers.” She gets that devious look in her eyes as she says that last word, looking right at me as if waiting to bait me into a response. “Have you? You know?”

My eyes widen the size of the planet. My brother, my mother, and my father have knowledge of this fiasco. I’m going to kill Sophie Meyer in her sleep tonight. Actually, not tonight because tonight is the night—oh, never mind. I glare at her instead.

“No,” Lane offers while taking a breath as if he were suddenly on guard. And with Sophie around, he’ll have to be on guard all night. Dear God, she’s a loose cannon. I should have cringed when I saw her tonight, not squealed like some silly schoolgirl. “We’re not there yet.”

“Yet!” Sophie claps like a seal, and her mouth falls open. “Have you kissed? I mean, really kissed. Not those panicked pecks after you fell off that mountain. A real kiss would be the first step in the right direction.”

Wait a Seth and Petra minute. I smell a TSE script all over this conversation, and I scowl at her for playing along. Sophie should know better. But then, this is probably payback for landing us all in this room in the first place. I admit it. I deserve it. I’ve earned every uncomfortable moment.

“No.” Lane leans forward and pulls both of our marshmallows off the skewers and onto a waiting graham cracker base already layered with chocolate that Sophie and I laid out. “But when it happens, I’m sure it’ll be natural.” He hands me a warm s’more melted to chocolaty perfection, and we take a bite in unison and groan. Lane and I exchange a secret glance that says we’ve already taken that step in the right direction. That we’ll be completing the journey tonight. And that it’s none of the TSE’s damn business—most likely not Sophie and Rowen’s either.

After a few more awkward exchanges, Sophie and Rowen say goodnight and take off. As much as I enjoyed having them, it’s a huge relief to have them gone.

The fire pit dims to nothing, and Lane helps me to stand. “I guess this is goodnight for us, too.”

Here it is—the moment of truth. Do we give the TSE and each other what we really want? That tiny declaration of the faith in our newly resurrected couplehood—and some tongue? Or hold off so Wen won’t have an aneurysm. Damn Wen and his precariously wired brain.

The candles continue their aggressive flicker, highlighting Lane’s features in all the right places, broad cheeks that I used to spend hours kissing, straight nose that I could run my finger down for hours, those ghostly pale eyes that demanded everyone in the room pay attention to him, and those full, deep red lips that beg for me to bless them with my own. His left dimple digs in as if he knows the answer to the question dangling before us, and he leans in, lids hooded, swallowing hard for what’s to come.

Screw it. I pull him in by the back of the neck and land my lips hard over his. Lane and I launch right into an aggressive kiss that feels as if we’ve finally ripped the Band-Aid off on our newfound secret. Lane and I are a couple again. We can’t even see the past anymore. Who the hell cares about a skeleton or two or twelve when I can have Lane in my mouth, in me, as my plus one once again? Lane and I linger as I dig my fingers into that lush, thick hair of his. His arms swivel up and down my back as if we were the only two people in the room, in the world tonight.

We pull back and catch our breath with a laugh tucked in our throats. I know for a fact this episode won’t air for another week. And we have seven Wen-free days before we have to account for it with anybody. Least of all my brother.

Seth calls it a wrap and offers us both a congratulatory slap on the back. “We’ll see you Saturday for your date.” He nods to Lane. “Petra says you gave quite the list of specifics.” He gives a wink my way because Seth is such a tease. He leans in and looks to the two of us. “Now tell me. Was that really the first kiss you’ve shared since you’ve been reunited?”

Reunited sets a small earthquake off inside of me until I realize that he’s right. Lane and I have reunited. It’s as if it snuck up on us the way the holiday season does. One minute you’re prepping for fall semester to begin and the next you’re tangled up in wrapping paper with far too many naked gifts staring up at you.

“Well?” Seth digs his fists into his hips as he awaits his answer.

“This might have been the second,” I whisper.

Lane picks up my hand and gives it a squeeze. “Or the twentieth, or the thirtieth.”

I can’t help but give a giddy laugh as the interns buzz around us blowing out candles and collecting the props. “But only the second occasion, we promise.” I look to Lane and meet up with those glowing poltergeist eyes. “It still very much feels shiny and new.”

Lane’s lids hood heavily as his lips twitch with a wicked smile. “And there are so many more shiny and new milestones to cross.”

We take off together, driving back toward Leland in his truck, ready to cross them all.

---

Lane makes a beeline for his apartment with the radio blaring sappy love songs. We’re so focused on getting into that oversized building and into his oversized bed that we hardly share two words. Once we hit the parking garage, Lane picks me up and carries me to the elevator, then all the way to his apartment until he’s successfully bolted us inside.

He sets me down on the floor carefully, my heavy boot the first to hit the ground. I left the crutches in his truck because I know firsthand I won’t be needing them.

Lane wraps his arms around me as the moonlight pours into his apartment. He gently lands his forehead over mine, his eyes casting their alien light over me. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“Good. That means we’re going to have a pretty busy evening, and we’d better get started right away.” I strip him of his flannel and the T-shirt he has on underneath it. I give his jeans a quick tug. “These had better go, too.”

A dark laugh rumbles from him. “Your wish is my command.” He fumbles with his button and zipper until he’s standing there in his boxers—his shoes, socks, and Levi’s have all vacated his body. He warms my arms with his hands. “I should have a fire going. I should ply you with wine or cheap beer. I should have at least bought you a lobster.”

“I’ll hit you up for the prostitution tax another time.” I pull him to me by his cheeks and smear a hard kiss over those pillow soft lips. Lane’s mouth has been an erotic arena all its own for as long as I have known him, and his chest rumbles with a laugh at my words. That’s what I used to call those luxurious dinner dates that ended with me in the missionary position, his tongue buried inside delicate places in my body.

Lane helps pull off my sweater, the two tank tops underneath, and the sports bra that has more properties that coincide with an obnoxiously tight rubber band than they do women’s lingerie.

“What the hell is this thing?” he gasps, struggling to get it over my head, and I think I just lost a good chunk of hair in its rubberized webbing.

“It’s one of those thing-a-ma-jigs. You know, for running. It holds the girls tight so they won’t go zigzagging all over the place.”

“Well that thing-a-ma-jig just sprained my left wrist.”

“Oh my God!” I struggle to free myself from the contraption and send my bra flying across the room like a missile. “Incoming.” I laugh as I land against him, bare chest to bare chest, and there is no greater feeling. My skin drinks it in, and I can’t stop looking up at Lane Cooper’s glowing eyes. “Can I kiss it?” The words come from me softly.

His lips pull back as he wipes the stray hair from my eyes. “Wow, Vi,” he flatlines as that hard protrusion at the base of his hips touches over my stomach—“you’re all about getting right down to business tonight. And I will be the last to protest.”

I smack him over his steely arm. “I meant your wrist.” I tilt into him, biting down over my lip. “But since you’ve been so nice to me, I’ll give you a twofer.” I give a little shrug. “Who am I kidding? I’m kissing every last inch of you tonight.”

His lids lower a notch more, and I’d swear on all that is holy, the light in the room dimmed by half. Turns out, the moon isn’t illuminating the room as much as I thought.

“Funny you should say that.” His voice hits that lower octave. “I’ve got about eight solid inches I’m about to give you first.”

“Eight?” I balk, amused at his mathematical error. I’ve memorized Lane’s body, and eight is the wrong number entirely. I hitch my thumbs in his boxers and send them sailing to the floor, pulling back to do an informal inspection, and my heart drums in my chest as I swallow hard. “Honey, you’re short selling yourself by a miracle mile. NASA couldn’t miss this if they tried.”

His chest rumbles with a laugh, and I feel it right through mine as my body melts over him once again.

Lane peppers my face with kisses that grow increasingly wild and heated by the second. “You are wearing way too many clothes.” He fumbles with the button on my jeans, and I jump back with a squeal in my throat. “I have a surprise for you!” I turn around and take off my left boot, my beloved Sorels—and then finally that hideous boot-legged prize I scored on that black diamond run, and I lift to launch it with all my might and hit a hard obstacle no less than a foot away from me—the family jewels and that walking stick he was about to impale me with.

“Shit!” Lane howls so loud the windows rattle before doubling down, holding that mile miracle I was about to indulge with a kiss. He groans so loud, so powerfully strong, it sounds animalistic and primal, well past the bounds of human pain tolerance.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” I bleat as I fall to my knees, struggling to keep up with his rolling and moaning. “I swear I didn’t see it.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t miss it!” he thunders, his body swiveling from side to side as if trying its best to ditch me.

An entire arsenal of words bottles up in my throat and I gag on them. “I thought you were behind me, and it’s so damn dark in here! Why is it so darn dark in here?” I wail right along with him.

He slaps his hand over the floor three times hard, and it sounds as if someone just thumped over it with a jackhammer. His head arches back as he roars into the night, and then, just like that, he falls flat on his back, eyes opened as he stares at the ceiling.

Oh my God, I killed him. I killed Lane Cooper with orthopedic shoe wear! “Are you dead?”

A hard knock rumbles over the door.

“I’m not dead yet. Would you like to finish me off or see who that is?”

“I think I’ll get the door.” I scamper over on my new light feet, and there’s no peephole, so I open it just a notch to find some disheveled boy with his hair going wild in every direction.

“Dude, what the hell is going on in there?” He pokes his head in and rakes me over with his eyes, and the fact I’m doing my best impression of a topless dancer hits us both at the very same time. I scream and slam the door in his face, bolting it once again to be sure Mr. Bedhead doesn’t come in for a second look.

“I just exposed my boobs to some dude who happens to be having a very bad hair day.” I trot back to the spot where Lane lies lifeless, the girls zigzagging like they just don’t care.

“That was Danny from next door. He’s really going to like you.”

I make a face as I get down on my knees and help him to a sitting position. “Let’s get you to the bed. The floor is freezing.”

“That’s a good thing,” he says as we stand together, a partially naked mess, me with my jeans still hugging my body. “I now feel comfortably numb.” He pulls me in and lands a kiss over the top of my head. “You still up for kissing inches and going the full mile?”

“If you’re not afraid of me.” Hell, at this point, I’m afraid of me.

He gives a dull laugh and wraps an arm over my shoulders as we limp our way to the bedroom.

“I still need to ditch the jeans,” I say it low like a confession as Lane lands on his elbows over the mattress with a hard wince. The windows in this room are fully exposed, and not only is it bathed in moonlight, but the streetlights illuminate it with their peachy glow. Lane’s bedroom is the size of my entire dorm and bigger. The warm scent of his cologne lingers thick in the air, and something about the decidedly testosterone-based environment has me sexually heightened.

“How about a strip tease?” he says in that heated lower register, and it feels as if we’re back in business. “Over there.” He motions toward the window a safe distance from his bed, and I’m quick to oblige him. I swivel my hips with the best of them, shimmying down my jeans until they tangle in a knot at the base of my ankles, and then try to skip right out of them like some delicate little nymph, only to trip and stumble until my body flies over the mattress like a pro female wrestler, and Lane lets out a harrowing cry as I land right over him.

“Fuck!” he barks it out so loud my body shakes, and not in the good way I was hoping for on this mattress fun zone.

My body freezes, and I’m petrified to move. “Are you okay?”

His chest expands and retracts once again as his arms warm my back. “I’m okay,” he whispers, but in truth his tone lacked all credibility. “If that’s all it took to land you in my bed, then it was worth it.” He depresses his head into the mattress to get a better look at me. “We may not be able to have kids for a while, but I’m guessing that’s not a big deal.”

A nervous giggle escapes me as I fill with relief. “That’s more than okay, but once it’s feasible again, I say we get straight to the task. Maybe a graduation present for me? Something cute in pink or blue?”

He presses a heated kiss to my lips. “Sounds perfect. How about we practice for the next few years?”

“I’m all for that.” I roll over, pulling him on top of me, and Lane and I get lost in one another’s eyes as the moment grows serious.

“I love you, Vi,” he whispers, and this time he’s one hundred percent convincing. “I’ve never stopped loving you. I’m so sorry I ever hurt you.”

My finger lands over his lips, and I shake my head as tears blur my vision. “I love you, too, Lane. I don’t think we need to say another word.” A part of me is very much onboard with sweeping the past under the proverbial rug. Who cares about what happened back then when we could have this now?

My fingers sink into the back of his neck as I command his mouth to mine. “Can we start all over again?” I’m not sure if I’m talking about tonight’s carnal capers or our lives in general since both apply.

Lane’s dimples dig in deep, no smile, a sober sadness veiled in his lust-filled eyes. “I thought you’d never ask. Now kiss me.” He gifts me a wild and wicked grin.

Lane’s mouth falls sweetly over mine before ravaging me with the heat of a thousand bonfires. Lane Cooper kisses my body as if it were a racetrack course, doing three and four laps, lingering slowly in all the right places. Lane has my entire body jumping, bucking with pleasure as I grip the sheets, claw my nails across his back, bite his shoulder, bite my shoulder while soaking in the ecstasy only something as volatile as makeup sex with your ex can provide. Violent wave after wave of pleasure shakes me as Lane loves me with his mouth. Lane and I writhe in an animalistic tangle of limbs, clawing and biting as if those were our instincts. Lane loves me with wild abandon until the glow of the sun fills the room. The glow of our love already filling our hearts.

Lane and I are together once again—no ifs, ands, or buts. We have become one in the most intimate way. We’re going to get married one day and have babies, perhaps out of order, but we’re going to get our happily ever after—in fact, we already have it. And all of that without ever mentioning the horrible past.

But it still haunts me. Even with my eyes closed, I can still see us there that night. Unmentionable, unspeakable acts that refuse to stay under that proverbial damn rug.