Hey, princess,” Damon says as he walks into the living room. I don’t know if it’s his confident swagger, his lopsided smile, or his new nickname for me, but instantly my heart starts racing.

“Hey, yourself.” The corners of my lips pull up behind my Kindle as I set the gadget aside. “How was it?”

“Eh. As usual.” Damon drops his body on the couch next to me, making the cushion dip under his body weight. He drapes his long, muscular arms over the back of the couch. He looks like a lazy, big cat—relaxed, alert, dangerous. He leans closer and says, in a low voice, “To tell you the truth, it was kind of boring. I’d rather be here, talking to you instead.”

I know—of course I know—that he’s just saying that. He has probably said that exact same line to a bunch of girls already.

Still, I can’t help the tingles that start in my chest and spread to the tips of my fingers. It could be true; my dad probably isn’t a rival I need to worry about.

“Sure,” I respond sarcastically. I pull my legs up onto the couch and turn to face him, leaning my side on the back of the couch.

“It’s true,” Damon says, staring straight at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. His eyes are so dark I can barely tell if his pupils are dilated.

I rack my brain for something to say. The things he says and the way he’s looking at me have got me all nervous. It doesn’t help that he’s so close his forearm is touching my shoulder.

“What are you reading?” Damon asks, glancing at the Kindle I’ve put on the coffee table.

I can’t tell him I’m making my way through yet another steamy romance novel. He’d think I’m some kind of a perv.

“Oh, a novel,” I say.

“Is it dirty?” Damon smirks.

“No,” I say, a little too quickly. My cheeks heat up with embarrassment, but I hope he doesn’t notice.

Damon says nothing, but his eyes remain fixed on me as his smirk grows wider. Does he know?

“Can I see it?” he asks.

“It’s boring. You won’t like it.” I laugh nervously. Maybe I could quickly navigate away from the book I was actually reading and show him a different one instead.

“It got you to sit still here all day. Can’t be that bad,” he says. “But, okay. You don’t want to share your dirty novel with me. That’s cool.”

“Hey. It’s a totally normal novel, okay?”

Damon laughs as he watches me grow redder and more flustered. He flashes his neat rows of white teeth as his skin crinkles around his eyes.

“I miss this. This is great,” he says, gazing intently at me. His laughter has died down, but his eyes are still sparkling with mirth.

“Yeah. It has been a while.” I want to tell Damon I’ve been missing him, but that would be too much.

He doesn’t need to know that every time I went out with some guy, all I could think about was how much better it would be if I were with him instead. I fantasized about what he would do and what he would say.

And now, I’ve got him right in front of me, openly flirting with me and staring at me like he can’t take his eyes off of me.

“Hey, do you want to go out and grab coffee?” Damon asks.

Oh my God. Damon is asking me out . . . right? I mean, he joked about dirty novels and stuff. This isn’t just a friendly catch-up thing.

This is my dream, and it’s finally coming true.

“Sure. When?” I ask as casually as I can. With my heart pounding in my chest, though, I feel like I’m vibrating in place and there’s no way Damon hasn’t noticed.

Don’t ruin this, I tell myself in a stern inner voice.

“Now,” he says.

“Now?” I parrot stupidly.

“Yeah. Why not? Your dirty book is boring. You said it yourself.”

“It’s not a dirty . . .” I zip my lips. I should stop talking about the book altogether. “I need to get ready first.”

“What? No. Look at you.” Damon’s gaze roams all over my body, lingering on my chest and my legs. “You look perfect. You’re ready to go.”

In my fantasies, I’d have a whole day—even a whole week—to prepare for my first date with Damon.

I’d carefully pick out the right outfit, maybe even shop for new clothes if I have to. I’d try on different combinations of makeup and hairdos until I find the right look—sexy but not slutty, sophisticated but not stuffy, mature but not boring.

Right now, I’m wearing what I’d consider my best house clothes. A pink tank top that skims over my curves without showing too much skin and a pair of black yoga pants that makes my butt look good.

I’m also wearing a bit of makeup—tinted moisturizer, a little blush, and mascara. My hair is simply pulled up into a high ponytail.

I don’t feel ready. But at the same time, it’s just coffee. Most importantly, I can’t possibly say no.

“Okay,” I tell Damon. “But give me five minutes. I have to at least get a jacket.”

“I’ll be here,” Damon says with an irresistible smile. He glances at his watch. “Five minutes. Don’t take too long, or I’ll have to punish you.”

I turn around and walk away before I turn bright red.

Punish me? What does he mean by that?

As I climb up the stairs, I’m aware that Damon is probably checking out my butt right now. I can practically feel the heat of his stare. Does he like it? Does it make him think dirty thoughts about me?

Entering my bedroom and closing the door behind me, I jump up and down, flapping my hands in excitement. I allow myself a minute to hyperventilate and take a few deep breaths.

Five minutes, he said. His words keep playing on loop in my head. Don’t take too long, or I’ll have to punish you.

Gosh, that sounds dirty, doesn’t it? It sounds like something a guy from a steamy romance novel would say.

As I pull open the door to my walk-in wardrobe, I wonder if how Damon would punish me. Would he tie me up? Pin me down? Spank my butt and make me scream out his name?

Just thinking about it makes my core clench. Wetness drips between my legs and pools in my panties.

Maybe I should change out of my yoga pants and put on a pair of jeans instead. And change my panties, too. I’ll stain these pants if I keep this up.

Grabbing a navy-blue jacket as I dash back out into my room, I check my reflection in the mirror—just like I used to whenever I heard Damon’s voice in the house when we were both younger. I comb my hair with my fingers, put some color on my lips, and stash the lipstick in my shoulder bag.

Thirty seconds to spare.

I dash down the stairs to the living room and find Damon waiting for me there. As he gets up, he checks his watch and raises a thick eyebrow.

“Just in time. Not bad,” he says. “Let’s go, princess.”

Oh, God. It’s my first date with Damon.

* * *

“Hop on.” Damon revs the engine of his motorcycle and it makes a loud roar.

I can’t deny I’ve always wanted to ride on his Harley, but my dad won’t like it.

“Uh, could you just let me know where we’re going? I’ll meet you there.” I look over my shoulder at the two guys—the chauffeur and the bodyguard—who tag along wherever I go. They’re muscular, imposing men who never seem to be in a good mood and never wear anything but black.

Ever since Dad found out about Rosa’s transgression, they have been taking me to work and back. It’s possible they get paid more than I do, which would mean that me working is an overall loss financially, but my dad always gets his way.

Right now, the two men are scrambling toward one of Dad’s black sedans, rushing to get it running.

Damon stares at me. “Really? You’d rather be driven around in that . . . thing than hop on my motorcycle?”

“Well . . . no . . . but . . .” I glance behind me when I hear the car engine being turned on. The car glides down the driveway and stops next to where I’m standing. I look back at Damon and lamely say, “The car’s ready.”

“They can follow us if they want,” he says, cocking a challenging eyebrow. “At least, they can try.”

Despite the conflict in my chest, I smile. Maybe it won’t be so bad . . .?

“Come on,” Damon says. “Rules are made to be broken.”

Oh, God. I really, really want to . . . I mean, #YOLO, right? You Only Live Once. But I don’t know if it’s a good idea to make my dad angry when he’s already so grumpy lately.

But . . .

I fidget with the leather straps of my shoulder bag as I take a good look at the big, vibrating motorcycle and Damon’s imposing figure on it. I imagine myself sitting right behind him. I’ll get to wrap my arms around his waist and lean my head on his back.

“You know you want to,” Damon says in a smooth, inviting voice.

Damn it. I can’t say no to that voice. And those eyes, daring me to be bad for once.

I take one step toward Damon, and then another, and then another. I put my fingers on the leather seat, which vibrates along with the powerful engine.

And, I’m sold.

I mount the motorcycle and take the helmet Damon hands me. As I put it on, I hear the shouting of my dad’s men in the background.

The chauffeur has rolled down his window. I can see his mouth moving. He’s saying something. Probably telling me I should get off the motorcycle and get into the car.

But I can’t hear him over the loud engine, the helmet covering my head, and the blood rushing in my ears.

Who cares? I know exactly what he’s saying anyway.

My heart races. So this is what it feels like, breaking a rule. I kind of like it.

“Ready, princess?” Damon asks, revving the engine once again.

“Yeah!” I shout.

“Hold on!”

I do as he says, holding on and interlacing my fingers in front of his chest. The smell of exhaust fumes and leather fills my nostrils.

And then, we’re off.

I’ve never been on a bike before. It’s nothing like sitting in a car.

This feels like flying. The wind in my hair. The vibrations between my legs. The outside air. The asphalt just inches away from my feet.

I check behind us to see the black sedan following us, and I can’t help but laugh.

If someone were to ask me what’s so funny, I wouldn’t be able to explain it. But, I laugh. And I can’t stop myself.

Maybe being high feels exactly like this. I can see how this could be addictive.

My first date. My first time riding on the back of a motorcycle. My first time breaking one of my dad’s rules.

I can’t wait for other “firsts” I’ll get to experience with Damon. Maybe he’ll be the first man I share a bed with too. I definitely won’t say no if he wants to claim my virginity.