I take Beck’s lips, and I groan at how good she tastes. Then I push her away, breathing heavily. “I can’t do this,” I say.

She moves in, wraps herself around me. “Why not?”

Her voice, barely above a whisper, rasps in my ear. I swear, I can feel it vibrate across my skin. That’s how much she affects me.

Which is why I can’t do this.

“We’re both drunk.” I take a couple of steps backward, meaning to get to the door.

“In vino veritas, right?” she says, still not letting go.

I need to be strong, here. “No, that’s—”

Beck runs her hand down my cheek, along the line of my neck, then to the V in my T-shirt. And strong goes right the fuck out the window.

The gentle touch of her hand sends electricity through every inch of me—especially the inches straining against my zipper. Lust overwhelms me. I slant my lips across hers, and she presses her whole body against me, tight.

It’s like a switch is flipped. My hands are in her hair, running through it like I’ve wanted to do, and then down her back, coming to rest on that ass—the one I’ve been trying not to stare at all night, but no more. This is much better. I squeeze, and move my hands across the leather. She’s not wearing any underwear that I can feel.

Holy shit. My cock, already at breaking point, goes straight to DEFCON 1, because the thought that I was out with Beck all night and she had no panties on blows my mind.

She’s kissing me back and—drunk or not—she’s into this as much as I am.

Still….

“We shouldn’t.”

“Yes, we should.” Her voice is firm, and she doesn’t sound drunk. Maybe that’s wishful thinking on my part.

“No,” I say. “You’re drunk. So am I.”

It’s hard to think because her hands are tugging the hem of my shirt up. They slide up under the fabric, hot against my bare skin. I feel her nails on my chest, and then she drags them across my nipples.

Holy shit.

I step back. “I’m leaving, Beck. God.” My voice is strangled, thick.

“Please don’t,” she says in a small voice. “I want you to stay.”

Oh, God.

“You’re sure?”

“So sure,” she answers without hesitation. “Garrett, I’ve been thinking about you like this all night. Way before I was drinking.”

That’s all I need. I’ve asked more than once. I’d never hurt her, but the thought that she wants this as much as me—that she was trying not to think about me, even as I was trying not to think about her—it’s too much.

I take her in my arms. She feels good—right. Like she’s supposed to be there.

I kiss her again and walk her backward to the bed. She falls back onto the comforter, taking me with her. Her hair spreads out against the pillows, gleaming chestnut in the light from the window. Her eyes are shining, her lips just a little swollen from our kisses.

I push up on my elbow and reach for the hem of the crazy-making fairy shirt. “I want this off you,” I murmur.

She reaches down and lifts the hem. She has no bra on. I didn’t think she did, but I tried not to look. Now I can’t look at anything else.

As she slowly pulls it off, I kiss my way up her body, following the path that opens up. Her navel, still sticky from the shot earlier; her ribs, standing out starkly against her skin. I press my mouth to the smooth skin between her breasts, and I can feel her heartbeat pounding under my lips. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever felt in my life.

She whispers my name and tangles her fingers in my hair. Her skin tastes like … Beck. I know what Beck tastes like now. I can’t stop thinking that. I know what Beck tastes like. I didn’t know that I was dying to taste her. How did I not know?

She tastes like I always imagined she would. Floral. Fruity. Salty.

I tug open the button on her pants and peel the leather down over those mile-long legs. She kicks the pants off the side of the bed and I drink her in with my eyes. She is wearing panties: a barely-there black thong. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Sexier, even, than the thought of her not wearing anything at all.

“You are so beautiful,” I say without thinking.

“You are so … dressed,” she says.

I see the ghost of a smile flirt with her lips, and I push up and balance on my knees, pulling my T-shirt off so fast I’m kind of surprised it doesn’t tear in two.

She makes a little approving hum in the back of her throat, and it’s the best thing I’ve ever heard. I’ve never felt this strongly about her, never been so affected by her. Is it because we’re drunk? Or because the moon is shining in through the window and she’s even more fairy-like?

You know, in that hot, have-sex-all-night fairy way.

I think I might be going insane.

“Pants, too,” she says. “Now.”

I shuck my pants off, then my boxers and socks. There’s only a small, satiny scrap of thin fabric between Beck and me, between who we are right now and who we’ll be after we do this.

I ask again, not because I want to but because I have to. “You’re sure? You have to be sure, Beck, or I’ll stop.”

“I’ll die if you stop,” she says. “Please tell me you have a condom.”

“What, you don’t?” I tease.

“No. I didn’t think anything like this would happen.”

“Not even with body shot guy?” I can tease because, whatever happened earlier, she’s here now. With me. Because she wants to be. What happened earlier doesn’t even matter.

She smiles, and her eyes flash up at me in the moonlight. “Well, since you ended up being ‘body shot guy,’ maybe.”

“I did,” I say. “God, Beck, I just—” I drop my head down so our foreheads are touching. “I couldn’t let anyone else touch you. I couldn’t stand it.”

“I only want you to touch me,” she breathes.

I lean off the bed and fish my wallet out of my pants. I’m not a player or anything, but it pays to be prepared. My dad wasn’t shy about impressing that responsibility on me. Among others.

But I’m not thinking about the things my dad has made me responsible for. All I’m thinking about is that I’m here with Beck, who is the most beautiful girl—woman—I’ve ever known. She’s always been the most beautiful, to me.

You shouldn’t be doing this, a voice inside me somewhere says. You’re supposed to take care of her.

Did I not just say I’m not thinking about that right now? I am taking care of her, I tell the annoying voice—and, thankfully, that voice shuts the hell up.

Beck takes the condom from my hand and sets it on the bed beside her. “Come here.” She pulls me on top of her, kisses me hard.

The feeling of her body under mine … is everything. We fit together. I slip that last wisp of fabric off her and slide between her legs like I’m meant to be there. She welcomes me into the cradle of her thighs and arches up a little. My cock brushes across her opening, and she’s wet. Oh my God. Never, in my wildest dreams—

Her nipples brush against my chest like little bites of flame, and her hands slide down to pull me tighter against her.

“No, wait.”

“Garrett—”

“Shhhh.” I kiss her neck. Her head falls back a little, and she sighs.

Jesus Christ on a piece of burnt toast. I need to think about baseball. Cleaning the basement. Something.

I move down and cup one breast, blow on the other. Her back arches, and I take the nipple in my mouth. She tastes so fucking good. I move to the other nipple, biting gently and sucking. My hand moves down her belly, between her legs. I slip one finger, then two, into her wetness.

She gasps and whispers my name.

I kiss down her stomach, then along her thigh. She’s tanned all over, and the smooth mound of her pussy is stunning and beautiful. Moisture beads along the seam of her, and a flash of pink peeks through.

Carefully, letting my breath blow on her, I kiss her right there where she’s parted ever-so-slightly for me, and she gasps again.

I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything better. Ever. I use my tongue to gently tease her open, and she shifts, gasps. Moans, long and low.

I open her legs wider and suck her clit gently between my lips. Her moaning increases. Her hands fist in my hair, and she pulls me close to her.

“Oh, Garrett,” she says, and it sounds like a prayer.

I press the flat of my tongue against her, then slide two fingers in again, curling them up to stroke there where I know it will feel best. In almost no time at all, she’s gasping for air and bucking under me. She calls out my name again, louder this time—so loud it echoes. I smile against the inside of her thigh.

I made Beck come. I made Beck scream my name.

She doesn’t move for a few seconds, and then she lifts her head up. “What are you doing down there?”

“What, you don’t like it?”

“No, I just wonder why you’re not letting me get in on the action.”

“Oh, well … why didn’t you say so?” I like this side of her. The Beck who knows what she wants. I start to kiss my way back up her body.

She gives my shoulder a gentle nudge. “Roll over,” she says.

When I’m on my back, she rises above me, straddles my body, runs her hands through my hair. The moonlight gleams behind her, outlining her silhouette. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I can still taste her arousal on my tongue.

“I’m sorry I pulled your hair,” she says.

“Did you?” I run my hands along the curve of her hips. “Didn’t notice.”

She smiles and bends down to kiss my neck, then nibbles a little along my collarbone. The feel of her lips inflames me as she kisses down my chest, her goal clear.

“You don’t have to—” I stop when her hand finds my cock and curls around it.

She strokes me with silky fingers, and I think of grandmothers and nursing homes. While I’m still trying to keep myself from coming all over her hand, she moves down between my legs, and then her mouth is on me.

Grandmas. Nursing homes. Baseball. Taking out the garbage. Oh, God.

Never, not once in all my imaginings about Beck—

Shit, am I admitting that I’ve been imagining being with Beck this way?

Yeah. I have.

But I never went this far. Never. I always stopped myself. I couldn’t stop now if someone held a gun to my head. I’d rather die.

The way she’s moving her mouth, I might die anyway. But there are certainly worse ways to go.