“Ouch.” I wake up to Spencer nipping my shoulder.

“Time to wake up, sleepy head.” He smacks my ass playfully as he rolls out of bed and struts around the bedroom toward his walk-in closet.

“You kicking me out already?” I tease, but a sliver of insecurity races through me.

He comes out of the closet wearing a pair of low riding sweatpants. “You got a test tomorrow in Davidson’s class, right?”

“Yeah.” I sit up. “Crap. I almost forgot about that. I should be studying—”

“Not until we have breakfast.” He crawls across the bed, trapping me from being able to dart and find my clothes, which are still scattered around his room. “Then I can help you. I took that class two years ago.”

“If I stay, I doubt there will be much studying done. And I can’t let my grades slip.”

He kisses me and I can’t help the moan that rumbles from my throat. Spencer chuckles. “Ninety percent studying, ten percent sex. Scout’s honor.”

“I have a hard time believing you were ever a scout.”

He rolls on his back taking me with him so that I’m straddling his hips, and I can feel his erection against my pussy through the cotton of his pants.

“And this is why me staying is a bad idea.”

His hands roam over my body, cupping my breasts, and I’m already wet for him, needing him inside me. But I’m also sore from last night, and I was telling him the truth, I can’t let my grades slip. I’m already struggling in Davidson’s class. I need a good grade on this test.

“I don’t even have my books here.”

“Like I said, I have the notes. And I’m not ready to give you up just yet.”

Just yet? His words imply that it’s coming. His ultimate rejection. And I’m not ready for that either.

“Okay. But I need breakfast. And coffee. Oh, and clothes would help too.”

He grins up at me. “I prefer you like this.”

“And I prefer not failing Theories of Global Justice.”

“I won’t let that happen. I got a ninety-two in that class.”

“Seriously?”

He chuckles as he rolls me over, then gets out of bed, returning to his closet. When he comes back, he’s holding a t-shirt that says Property of Princeton. He hands it to me and winks. “Just in case you forget who you belong to.”

I raise an eyebrow and try not to show how his words make butterflies take flight in my stomach. “You laying claim?”

He just chuckles, pulling me to him, and before I get the shirt over my head, I am in his arms, once again and his mouth is on mine.

His kisses remind me that the last thing I want to do is leave this townhouse. As he runs his hands over my bare back, I think that ninety percent studying, ten percent sex sounds just about right.

I spend the day on Spencer’s couch, legs draped over his lap as he helps me study. I’m actually shocked at how smart he is. Figured the infamous Princeton Charming was only here because his parents could afford to bribe the dean of admittance.

“You really know this stuff,” I say.

“I’m not just good looks and charm, sweetheart.” He taps his temple. “Eight years of the top boarding schools in the country have to account for something.”

“Schools?”

He shrugs. “I may have gotten kicked out of a couple.”

“For what?”

“I wasn’t always as well behaved as I am now.”

I chuckle. “You’re still trouble.”

He pulls me onto his lap and nuzzles his nose against the side of my neck. “What makes you say that?”

“I’ve heard the rumors.” I wrap my arms around his neck and shift so that I’m straddling him.

“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”

I can feel his cock twitch under me. “So you weren’t the one who duct taped the academic dean’s car during frosh week?”

He smirks. “Prescott may have had a hand in that one.”

“Was it you who turned the Fountain of Freedom into a ball pit?”

“Okay, that was me.”

I laugh. “And let’s not forget all the girls you’ve—”

He slaps my ass, hard. “I’d rather not bring up other chicks when I’m with you.”

“I’m not the jealous type, Spencer. I knew when I started this with you that you weren’t exactly...innocent.”

His lips thin as he looks up at me. “No, Charlie. I’m anything but innocent.”

“You may be the first guy I...well, you know. But I’ve kissed other people, too.”

“Kissing isn’t exactly what I was talking about. And I don’t want to think about you with other guys, either.”

“Jealous?” I tease.

He frowns. “Yeah.”

“Really? Why, it’s just kissing, it’s not like—”

“Kissing is more intimate than sex, Charlie.”

“Um, I don’t think so.”

He sighs and cups the back of my head drawing my face closer to his. “Sex is just...fucking. But kissing...” He brushes his lips against mine. “It means something.”

Despite the way my insides flip flop, I tease, “Well, I’m sure you’ve kissed your share of girls.”

“No.”

“No?”

He shrugs. “You’re only the second girl I’ve kissed.”

“Oh.” It’s hard for me to wrap my head around his confession. And even though I know I shouldn’t ask, know that I really don’t want to know, I ask, “Who was the first?”

His lips purse and he hesitates before answering. “Winslow.”

I chew on my bottom lip. “So you two were serious?”

He shrugs. “She wanted to be.”

“And you?”

“She’ll always mean something to me, but I didn’t love her the way she wanted. The way she deserves.”

So much for saying I’m not the jealous type. The green monster wriggles in my stomach and tightens my throat.

“Your families, they’re close, right?” I can’t help but ask.

Spencer groans. “Something like that. Our families have this idea in their head that I’m gonna be some state senator. Winslow is a part of their mastermind plot. Power couple, taking over DC.”

My lips twitch as I take in his explanation. It’s not exactly giving me confidence in this lasting longer than a fling. Which I knew when I came over here. Still, when Spencer held me in his arms last night, I really could see us as more than a hook-up.

He’s only kissed two people.

Sure, Winslow is one of them.

But the other one is me.

That has to mean something, doesn’t it?

“Look, the point is that I don’t want that life,” he says, his fingers laced with mine. “I have a different ambition.”

“You don’t want to be a politician?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “You’ll think it’s dumb.” When he leans back on the couch, his cheeks redden slightly, and he looks away.

“Wait, are you embarrassed?”

“I’ve just never talked about it with anyone.”

“Okay, now you have to tell me.”

He groans. “Fine, but don’t laugh.”

“Promise,” I say, crossing my heart with my finger.

“I want to help people. And not the kind of help politicians give. I want to be on the ground floor. Really helping. I’d love to have a non-profit where people in crisis could get the services they need. Everything I’m learning right now in poli-sci points to inequality between the rich and poor and...” He trails off, running a hand over his jaw. “I don’t know. I’m not qualified, I know that. But...”

I can’t help but smile, his confession confirms that there is more than meets the eye when it comes to Spencer Beckett. I straddle him, wanting to look in his eyes. “The arrogant prince has a soft side, I wouldn’t have guessed.”

He exhales. “Well don’t go telling anyone. I have a reputation, you know.”

“I know.” I run my fingers through his hair. “I won’t tell a soul that you’re secretly a bleeding-heart. Can you imagine what would happen if that got out?” I gasp exaggeratedly as Spencer begins to tickle me, sending us both into a fit of laughter.

“You are trouble, Charlie Hayes. Trouble.”

We fall to the floor, cracking up as Spencer’s phone buzzes. He reaches for it and looks at the text. Groaning, he locks it and sets it aside.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“Nothing, just Prescott.”

“What does he want?” I ask, realizing the time. We’ve spent the entire day together and I should get home. I have laundry to do and an outline for my civics essay that needs some serious attention.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says. “No matter what I give Prescott, it’s never enough.”

“Well, Spencer Beckett, what you gave me last night was plenty.”

Spencer laughs. “Is that your way of calling this off?”

I twist my lips. “I just know that there are no guarantees in life. And I don’t want to be an obligation.”

Spencer draws me to him. We’re on the floor, and his arms wrap around mine. “Charlie, I know as well as anyone there are no guarantees. I also know you and I are more than a hook-up.”

Later, when Spencer drops me off at my dorm, I turn to wave goodbye. As I do, snowflakes begin to fall, and my eyes widen.

“You see that?” I ask as Spencer unrolls his window.

“It’s beautiful,” he says, but his eyes are only on me, his grin not as cocky as before, just filled with...happiness. “Just like you.”

I wave at him over my shoulder as I walk away, feeling his gaze on me, butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

We didn’t label our relationship, but as I walk to my room a calm sweeps over me. We don’t need a label, not now. Because having his word that this is more than a hook-up is enough of a guarantee.