I’m stuck in a shame spiral, and the living room isn’t the best place to mope. Not when men with perfect bodies fill this house.

A man with dirty-blond hair and chiseled abs relaxes with me on the couch, mashing his thumbs on a controller. I keep my gaze focused on the iPad even though I want to marvel at the thick cords of muscle wrapping around his arms. I met him the first day but can’t remember his name. He talks with a limited vocabulary filled with dudes and bros. My nickname for him is Ditzy.

Not all of them are as cheerful as Ditzy. Snoopy, what I call the defensive midfielder with a ruddy beard, is my least favorite. He’s always watching me with a frown as though I’m up to no good. My brother’s number one brown-noser.

This morning I stumbled into a bathroom with a naked guy passed out on the floor—Tipsy—who recovers at the breakfast bar, a beer bottle wetting his lips.

Through the windows, two of my roommates practice on the lawn. An olive-skinned man runs through the grass shirtless. He has the broadest chest of all of them—Bulky. So far, my favorite is nowhere to be found. Grayson is Dimples. I remember his name, but it’s only fair to give him a nickname, too.

And the mere thought of him sends a warm shiver through my body.

He kissed me. Slipped his tongue in my mouth. Offered himself to me.

He wants a friends-with-benefits arrangement. A healthy, sane woman would say yes. A thrill greater than anything I’ve ever experienced before runs through my spine at the idea of sneaking around in the dead of night, slipping into Grayson’s bedroom, fucking him in the pool with the water lapping around us. Wherever and whenever.

It’d be perfect if there weren’t so many strings attached. Grayson hates Henry. My brother loathes him back. It’s messy from every angle. And I ignored the warning Henry gave me. What is wrong with me?

You need to get laid.

A scream erupts from Ditzy’s side of the couch. He flings the controller onto the table, staring at the television. "This is bullshit!"

He grabs the remote and stabs at the buttons. The screen changes to a sports channel where a familiar woman splashes across the tube. She leans out of a taxi, shades propped on her head as the driver wheels her suitcases toward Los Albos Ranch.

"Hey, that’s me!" My shout rings throughout the house.

Below the photograph of me scrolls a text in bold: MYSTERY GIRL STAYING AT SANTA BARBARA GRIZZLIES RANCH.

"What the hell?" I turn to Ditzy. "Don’t they know I’m Henry’s sister?"

He shrugs.

My mouth goes dry as I watch the series of photos, grimacing at the unflattering close-ups. There must have been paparazzi camped outside. I didn’t think to check and probably wouldn’t have noticed. My spine tingles with unease.

"That’s creepy as hell." I stare at a woman who spends five minutes speculating on my identity before the gossip shifts to another celebrity.

I should’ve expected this, I guess. My brother is an international sports star. He’ll have journalists reporting everything from his women to his bowel movements. Reminds me of the long talks Dad had with Henry about what it meant to be a Pardini. The luxury and the fame comes at a cost. There is tremendous responsibility, and it means an existence under constant media scrutiny. It's a life my father made sure I’d never have.

"Turn that off," a grumpy voice says.

Henry stands at the kitchen island, spreading mustard on two slices of bread as he makes lunch. He’s scowling, for a change. My mind hunts for a nickname.

"I said, lock it up."

Ditzy sighs, stabbing a button.

The screen goes blank, and Henry resumes his unhappy assembly of a sandwich.

Surly. Definitely Surly. I cross my arms. "I didn’t think they’d photograph me, sorry."

He shrugs. "Doesn’t matter who you are. Each of us has rabid fanbases entitled to every private detail of my damn life."

I won’t point out that his fans made him into a multi-millionaire. "They don’t know I exist, do they?"

The look he gives me across the kitchen frosts the air. "No. Trust me, that’s a good thing."

If the public had an inkling who I was, they’d approach me on the streets. My email would blow up with questions about Henry. I wouldn’t get a moment’s peace. Being the relative of an international soccer star has its downsides, I guess.

I didn't see it that way. I was always proud of him, and I dreamed of the day I’d be allowed to bask in his limelight. When he was picked to represent America in the World Cup, I wanted to shout to the rooftops that he was my brother, and then I heard he got married. The news was splashed on the front page of a tabloid rag with a grainy photo of Henry kissing a woman I’d never met. My only living relative hadn’t invited me to his wedding.

That stung. Big time.

It shouldn’t have surprised me, though. When Henry talks about his family in interviews, it’s always his wife, his father, not the sister who held his hand on long walks to Dolores Park. I don’t exist to him, and why should I? He doesn’t remember the early years before Dad pushed me aside for his son.

Those days flash through my head like a sepia-toned movie. Mom would push him in his stroller up those steep hills, and when we sat down for a picnic, I’d shove squares of cheese into my little brother’s mouth. I loved him, and Dad turned Henry against me.

My eyes mist with the ghosts of memories as Henry bites into his oversized sandwich. He talks in between mouthfuls. "Listen, my wife’s in town."

"Oh!"

"We're going out for dinner."

He’ll ask me to come with to meet my sister-in-law. Maybe this is his way of apologizing for not inviting me to his wedding—

Henry glances at me. "I was hoping you'd clean up the guys’ rooms while I’m gone."

"Ah." Forgot I was the Help. I open my mouth, not certain whether I’ll laugh or cry.

"We’ve been having this ant problem, and I think it’s from the trash in their bedrooms."

My lips pull into a painful smile. "Sure thing, Henry."

"Thanks." He breezes through the kitchen with his empty plate, dumping the crumbs in the garbage before sliding his dish into the sink.

I stand, hating myself for being so weak. "Will I ever get to meet her?"

Henry’s back stiffens. "I don’t understand why that’s necessary."

"Come on, Henry. I’m your sister."

My spirits fall into a lake of liquid tar as he lets out an aggravated sigh. "I’ll think about it."

"You want us to know each other, right?" I search his face for the little boy I loved, but it’s plain to see he has no love for me.

He checks the time. "I gotta run. Do not forget about the rooms."

I swallow my pain. "'Course."

* * *

I nudge the sixth door open—thank God I’m almost finished. The last room is tidy, with a queen-sized sleigh bed. A pile of folded clothes sits on his dresser. The hamper in the closet is free of dirty clothing. I spot balled aluminum on the desk by the mattress and add it to the garbage. My eyes scan for my trash and pass over an unopened envelope addressed to Grayson Shaw from Los Angeles Labcorp.

I avert my gaze. What the hell is it? Results from an STD test? A blood panel for cholesterol? Whatever it is, it’s none of your damn business.

So this is Grayson’s room. I was wondering which belonged to him and secretly prayed it wasn’t the one whose wastebasket was filled with used condoms.

A sigh rolls into my ear, making my spine tingle. "Just because we made out doesn’t give you the right to snoop through my things."

Speak of the devil.

Grayson lurches through the doorway, and he's not pleased. "Been looking for you all day. Do I even want to know what’s in that bag?"

My face grows hot. "I'm cleaning the rooms. Henry says there’s an ant problem."

His scowl darkens. "He should learn to pick up the phone and call pest control."

"God, will you give it a rest with that? I don’t mind." I tie a knot on the bag. "Seriously, this is way better than the shack I would’ve ended up at if he refused to let me stay. I have it good."

My grip on the plastic loosens as Grayson approaches. I open my mouth to breathe, but he steals the oxygen. "Did you find anything interesting while snooping?"

"Honest to God, I just wanted to tidy up."

"So you didn’t run into my collection of handcuffs and ball gags under the bed? That’s a relief."

"I’m glad. That’d ruin my image of you."

He grins ear to ear. "Which is what?"

"If you get your rocks off being tied up, how alpha can you be?"

Stop flirting with him, for God’s sake.

Grayson’s hot gaze is like a lover’s caress. "In your dreams, Saffie. Or maybe in mine." He winks at me. "I’m not into being restrained, but I have to admit having you at my mercy sounds fucking sexy."

"What did you say?"

His voice is heated oil running down my sides, coating my body. "The bed’s right there. Did you consider my offer?"

I glance at the bed as though Grayson must be exaggerating its existence, and stagger back as he moves forward. "I thought about it. Tried not to, but I couldn’t help it."

A feline grin staggers across his face as he touches my waist. "That settles that."

I taste his breath before pulling away. "We can’t."

His irresistible voice rolls over me. "We’re two consenting adults, Saffie. Of course we can."

"There are seven other men here, and he does not want me anywhere near you."

"Your brother doesn’t own you."

My heart hammers as I step from Grayson. "No, but he owns this house, and I need a place to stay. I can’t afford to be kicked out."

He shoves his hands deep into his pockets with a look that says it plain—There’s no way in hell I’m leaving you alone. "If he threw you out, I’d let you back in. I’d insist on you staying in my room, though. Point is, you have somewhere to stay no matter what."

The reasons to say no keep disappearing. "Stop flirting with me."

"How about this? I’ll stop when you will."

"Fine." I grab the bag. "Did you need me for anything else?"

His eyes shine with desire. "In a manner of speaking, yes."

"You promised."

"I can't ignore your fuck-me eyes, babe. You're looking at me as though you want to be thrown on my bed."

If only I could calm the fire blazing my cheeks. "No, I’m not."

He smiles as though to assure me it’s our little secret. "Anyway, Titus and I wanted to know if you’ll be participating in the beer-pong tournament tonight."

Seven hot men and binge drinking? Sounds like a recipe for a disaster. "I think I’ll pass."

"Henry won’t be here. You can let loose and have fun for one night." He pauses. "There’ll be barbecue."

Sold. "I’ll watch you guys make drunken fools out of each other, but I’m not playing."

Grayson’s smile makes the breath catch in my chest. I need to get the hell out of this room before I do something stupid, like kiss him. I reach for the door, but he’s already opening it for me. He closes it before I can squeeze out. "There’s no expiration date on my offer, Saffie. Think about it."

Which one? "Not going to happen."

"We’ll see."

* * *

Watching a group of men play beer pong is as exciting as it sounds unless they’re all professional athletes with a reluctance to wear clothing. They could be sweeping the concrete, and it’d be captivating.

The night’s balmy air fills with raucous, male laughter, and I’m sleepy with the weight of two beers. It’s the perfect weather for drifting off, but I keep jerking awake from the splashing and screams of victory. Giving up, I watch them heckle each other, splash in the pool, and cook links of sausage. It looks like a scene from a men’s swimwear fashion magazine.

Unsurprisingly, Tipsy is winning the beer-pong tournament. Grayson plays opposite Tipsy, wearing nothing but a pair of blue-and-black board shorts. His handsome smile twists into a feral grin as he lobs the white ball into a cup at the far end, the liquid splashing all on the table.

The skies erupt with hand slaps and cheers. I shake my head and return my attention to the Abigail Graham book on my phone. It’s a romance novel.

What I should do is research for jobs, not fantasize about sex. Specifically, what it would be like with Grayson. Judging by his six-pack, he has the stamina of a horse. I bet he could go for hours, and it’s easy to imagine because I’ve already seen him naked. He’s a big guy. How would that feel?

You’re perverted. Sick.

I skip a steamy scene in Abigail’s book because I can’t handle descriptions of sex right now.

"Hey!" a voice barks. "Stop watching porn and play with us."

How does he know? My fingers turn white as I grip my phone, wheeling my gaze to the pong table.

"Just kidding." Grayson’s wide smirk flashes in my direction. He beckons. "Come on!"

"No thanks," I shout. "I’m reading about two men going at it."

The other guys heckle me, their shouts growing louder. I frown at my iPhone, squinting at the small text, but I can’t concentrate with the noise.

I stand from the lounge chair to earsplitting whistles and join Grayson. It feels dangerous to stand in his presence, as though he might lure me with a glance. I’ll do something stupid, like give in to the butterflies and graze my lips over that smirking mouth. My brother warned what’d happen if I broke the rules, but Grayson’s too gorgeous to ignore.

It’s hard to imagine him doing anything mean spirited. He’s the very image of perfection. Grayson goes with the flow. Everybody has demons, but Grayson looks like he flies above them without a care in the world.

I wish I could do that. "All right, I’m here."

"Took you long enough," he says. "Your turn."

The guys crowd the table, laughing at me.

I sneer at them. "You’re all degenerates."

"We already know that," Ditzy pipes up, not missing a beat. "Go."

I haven’t played this game since school, and it was only a handful of times. Never was the partying type. Studying devoured the majority of my time, so I missed out on the whole college experience.

They gaze at me, waiting. "I don’t remember what I’m supposed to do!"

"You’ve been watching us for an hour," Grayson says with a lilt in his voice.

He expected me to pay attention? "Yeah, I wasn’t focused on the minutia of the game."

"Maybe if we wore shirts you would’ve absorbed some of the rules." He grins, offering me the ball again. "Go on, take it. Let’s not pretend it’s the first time you’ve handled one of these."

Balls. He’s talking about his balls. "You’re so funny it hurts."

His voice deepens as I pluck the firm plastic from his palm. "Wrap your little fingers around it, but be gentle. It’s sensitive."

"Are you giving me instructions for fondling you?" I hiss in an undertone.

He grins. "I don't understand what you mean."

Sure you don’t. "Stop breaking my concentration."

"Sorry, I didn’t realize I was so distracting."

"It has nothing to do with your looks." I glare at him even though I know I’m wrong. "More with your lips flapping."

"Not a big talker, eh? I’ll keep that in mind for later."

God, shut up.

I let the ball soar into the air with a quick flick of my wrist. It flies over the table and bounces on the concrete. Male voices ring with laughter through the backyard. My cheeks burn.

Grayson fetches it. "Guess you could use a little practice. Here." He drops it in my hands. "Don’t be afraid to play with it."

He won’t stop with the goddamn innuendos because he knows they’re getting to me. Pretty soon I’ll think of a man’s testicles every time I see a ping-pong table, and it’ll be his fault. Blood churns under my skin, which feels too warm.

The smooth plastic rolls between my fingers as Grayson nods encouragingly. "There you go."

"This game sucks." I pick up the plastic cup of beer and drain its contents.

"Only losers talk like that."

I put it down. "And you need to stop talking as though we’re on a porn set."

"I have no idea what you mean," Grayson says, voice shaking with mirth. "Just trying to keep you from humiliating yourself in front of the guys."

I snort. "Oh, you think not winning this stupid game is embarrassing?"

"You’re the one with the law degree, and you’re losing to a bunch of brainless jocks."

For God’s sake, I can throw a ball in a cup. "Two out of three."

"That’s not how beer pong works, cheater."

Alcohol chugs through my veins with surprising swiftness. Guess it’s been a long day, and I haven’t eaten much. I ignore the guys crowding the table and focus. Meatheads all over the world play this sport. Like he said, it can’t be that hard. I just need a little less power.

I lob it. The ball bounces once, and it’s way too low. It dribbles on the surface as Grayson chuckles into my ear.

I’ll throttle him. "Okay, I give up."

"Sour grapes!" Grayson calls after me as I return to my lounge chair by the pool.

My mood darkens as I take a long sip of my forgotten Moscow Mule, tapping the copper mug with a finger. Grayson meant nothing nasty, but the jibe about a law degree struck a sore spot. I spent months agonizing over practice LSATs, pouring hundreds of dollars into cram schools to ace the damn bar, followed by another two years of study at law school. I learned a lot, but I haven’t lived.

And what did it get me besides an empty savings account?

I shove those thoughts away as Tipsy makes a beeline for me, a tray of hot dogs balanced on his palm. They’re garnished with ketchup and mustard.

I choose a blackened sausage wrapped in a toasted bun, mouth watering at the savory smell. "Thanks!" I bite into it, moaning in pleasure. "Really good!"

He smiles, saluting me with a pair of tongs as he walks to the pong table. Grayson proposes a break as the aroma saturates the air. He grabs two dogs and eats half of the first before sitting next to me.

I switch off my iPhone. "This is the part where I tell a joke about how quickly you eat penis-shaped objects."

Grayson chokes. "Jesus. Someone has cock on the brain."

Someone put it there. "With you hissing innuendos every second, how am I supposed to forget?"

He lies back, smiling. "You’re not."

Warmth swirls over my chest, wrapping around my limbs, rendering me immobile. He hasn’t stopped tempting me all night. First with the jokes, and now with that smile. Henry doesn’t want me anywhere near Grayson, but he’s not here.

And darkness is falling thick over the backyard, blanketing the bushes, covering my shoulders like a shroud. The lights hanging overhead are easily turned off. The ones beneath the pool, too. A fine mist rises above the water’s surface, tantalizing.

Grayson made it clear what he wants. No strings. No relationship. Just fun. God help me, but I could use some mindless fucking as a distraction.

One by one, the guys say goodnight and head into the house. I check my iPhone, surprised. "It’s only ten o’clock."

"We have to get up at five for training, so most of us go to bed early."

"Not you?"

He stands. "I’d rather stay here and play with you."

I give the ping-pong table a derisive look, and his laughter echoes. "That’s not what I meant."

God, we’re alone.

Grayson takes my hands and pulls me upright. My palms slide against his warm chest. I yank back as though burned.

His handsome face splits with a wide grin. "What are you afraid of? No one’s here."

I glance around the backyard, the light from the pool rippling over the grass and the side of the house, which is dark inside.

We’re alone.

My hands fly to my neck as my heartbeat drowns out all sound.

Grayson steps too close. "How about a swim?"

Swimming with him isn’t against the rules, but the way he’s looking at me certainly is. "Fine."

I yank the Pollos Hermanos T-shirt from my head, blushing under Grayson’s intense gaze as I adjust the straps of my bikini.

"Ready?"

My scream splits the air as he lifts me in his arms. It’s effortless, like I’m nothing but a bundle of linen. Grinning, he hoists me to the edge of the pool. I pound his shoulders. He bends his knees and leaps.

The splash swallows my yell as we break the calm with a loud crash. My body plunges into the lukewarm water, my skin stinging with cold when my head breaks the surface. Turquoise light ripples over his chest and face.

"You freaking bastard!" I punch his shoulder, but the pool slows my fist.

Grayson’s arms unravel from me, and he bounces back. He shakes the drops from his eyes, swiping his hair. I launch at him, chopping the surface with my forearms to make a huge wave. He ducks, his body, rippling in a dark mass as he swims behind me.

Suddenly he grips my ankles and tugs. My chin touches the water, and I kick free from his hold. He emerges, rivulets cascading down his face.

"Are you a toddler?" I shove his chest before paddling away. My shorts are heavy, so I strip them, throwing them over the concrete. "You’re damn lucky my phone was sitting on the table."

He bobs through the surface, swimming toward the ladder. Water sloshes in a small wave as he heads for the glowing sauna. I step out, shivering. Great, no towels.

"Saffie, join me."

That’s the last thing I should do, but I’m not keen on dripping all over Henry’s floors. I dip my toe into the cerulean pool. God, it’s hot.

Grayson’s gaze follows my calves as I slide in, the heat scorching my skin. The water creeps to my neck, and I shut my eyes, enjoying the warmth.

He sloshes toward me, and suddenly a thigh presses against mine. My eyes flare open to Grayson, who sits close enough to count the beads of moisture clinging to his lashes. His thick arm rises from the hot pool, draping across my shoulders. He pulls me over his lap.

My breathing stalls. "What are you doing?"

"Finishing what we started."

I palm his chest to push him away, but that’s a mistake. The moment his skin burns against mine, my heart throbs an impatient beat. "What the hell do you want from me?"

"Everything," he says.

"Why?"

"Do I need a reason? You’re single, aren’t you?"

It’s been a long time since I’ve had sex. Hell, I can’t remember when a man gave me goose bumps with a brush of his hand. There’s never been anyone like him in my life, and I’m scared. He’s too good to be true. Too hot to ignore. "Yeah."

"Then I don't see why we can’t fuck around." He draws a line over my shoulders, slipping under my spaghetti strap. He tugs at the fabric, watching my tits bounce.

Fear throttles through my veins. "For starters, all they have to do is look through the damn window!"

A smile staggers across his face. "So you like the idea."

Is he blind? Of course I do. He’s a Greek statue brought to life. Pleasure buzzes between my legs with his stare. "I’m just not sure I trust you."

His arms encircle my waist. "We have to live together for the next few months. Making things awkward isn't what I want."

"Good thing you’d only be fucking Henry’s sister."

"If that makes me a monster, so be it." He stares at me with eyes half open. "You’re too sexy to ignore."

I play with my lips. That's what I thought about him. "I’m not the type of girl who does this."

"What? Meaningless sex?" He smiles. "You don’t need to put yourself through so much guilt. I won’t judge you."

That’s not what I’m afraid of. "Why me? You could find another woman in seconds."

"Because you’re here. It’s convenient. I can have you whenever I want, and sneaking around is an added bonus. Live a little, Saffie. Take a chance and fuck me."

"You talk like a trucker; you know that?"

"Whatever," he says. "After summer ends, I’ll have to travel, and you’ll go wherever the hell you want. As long as we’re clear this is temporary, what harm could it do?"

I can’t think with his fingers playing with my strap, teasing my skin. If we kept it secret, it wouldn’t be a problem.

"I’ll lay it out for you right now. I’m not promising you a relationship. There’s nothing on the table except really hot sex."

I don’t know what that is. Average sex? Sure. I like to believe most women have had the misfortune of hooking up with a guy who believes he’s a good fuck but only manages a few seconds of pounding before laying his sweat-soaked body on yours. I haven’t run into just one man like that—virtually every partner I’ve had has left me less than thrilled. So after a while, I stopped trying. It didn’t seem worth the effort.

Grayson is.

My hand leaves the water to grasp his chin. I want to say something, but then he moves his head down, kissing my thumb. He bites it. My core tightens and releases.

His smile broadens as the bra strap falls. My bikini top sags. Gasping, I push my breasts together to hide them until Grayson covers me with his hands.

Holy shit.

He gropes my tits. "That’s all I’m after, Saffie."

It’s hard to form coherent sentences. "They’ll—they’ll find out."

"We’ll be careful."

"We’re in a house with seven other men. Oh my God."

My bikini floats on the water, the triangle patches soaking up light. Grayson pulls me close, his back pressed against the rough wall. My nipples graze his chest as he dives his fingers into my hair. A blast of hot air hits me before his lips crush mine. There’s still time to leave. I could shove him away and march into the house, but then his tongue slips inside.

I gasp, opening my mouth as boiling heat spreads over my lap.

I catch him with my teeth, and he laughs, stunning me with another kiss. Then he moves so that my naked back kisses the stone. Something juts against my hip, and I look down. His shorts billow over muscular thighs and his rock-hard cock.

Grayson grabs my hand and wraps it around his length. A thrill runs into the space between my legs. I dive into his shorts, cradling all of him.

"Now you can put what you learned to use." He laughs, pressing his forehead against mine as I stroke him.

He pushes me onto the ledge so that my torso rises above the water. I shiver, but he covers my body with his massive one, kissing a blaze down my neck. My nipples sting from the air, but his mouth and tongue find them. Wet heat flicks across their hardened points, electrifying my senses. I wrap my arms around his head, not caring that the sauna might as well be a spotlight for anyone looking out the window. It’s fucking hot. He’s fucking hot. I’ll remember Grayson tonguing my tits for the rest of my life, and then he turns me so I’m facing the house’s darkened windows. I forget the cold as he makes me bend over the sauna’s edge. My knees hit the cement floor. My bikini slides down my thighs, my ass bare to the world as Grayson moves behind, his hardness digging into my thigh. "Christ, I could fuck you right now."

My mouth is dry. I want him to. Everything feels cool and wet, and it’d be such a thrill to have his hot length thrusting warmth inside me, but he doesn’t.

Grayson slips up and down my clit, teasing me. My arms tremble from keeping myself upright, and then his finger sinks in like a knife through butter. A sound rips through me—a desperate noise that burns my cheeks. Grayson pulses into my pussy, pausing to grope my ass, slap it so hard it cracks like a gunshot.

I turn around, dazed with lust. "Do you want them to see us?"

"No," he says, pinching my clit. "This summer, your body belongs to me. Only me."

He pulls me into the suffocating heat and lifts. I wrap my arms around his neck as he climbs out. "What are you doing?"

"Bringing this inside."

We drip over the stones and grass as he treks through the backyard, finding a stack of towels on one of the lounge chairs. He puts me down, wraps a towel around my body, and yanks. I crash into him, reaching for the surprising warmth under his shorts. He tips my head and crushes my lips against his. He kisses the chlorine tang from my mouth. I strip the wet swimsuit from his ass, and it falls with a noisy plop. His tongue flicks mine as he drags my bikini bottom off me, his hands warming my damp skin. My heart kicks into overdrive as he grabs my chin, searching my eyes. "What?"

"Are we—" I can’t even say the word.

"I’m not fucking you tonight," he says. "At least, not with my cock."

"Why not?"

"We’ll take it nice and slow."

Apparently that means shoving his fingers into my pussy. Grayson throws the towel aside and picks me up. He flips a switch on the side of the wall, and the pool lights dim. The glass door opens with a sigh as he slides me through.

Oh my God.

It’s quiet inside, nothing but the hum of air conditioning and Grayson’s soft laughs against my cheek as he lays me on the kitchen table. He spreads me open like I’m a feast. I lift my head, heart pounding. His hair tickles the insides of my thighs, and then a blaze from his mouth whispers between my legs.

I gasp. "Are you crazy?"

It’s too dark to make out his face, but I feel his chuckles against my skin. I stuff my fist between my teeth to keep from shouting.

He strokes me with his tongue. Dips his liquid heat inside my throbbing pussy and shifts between my lips, back and forth.

"What—what are you doing?" My whisper echoes through the kitchen.

I’ve never had a man’s mouth on me, or felt his rough cheek graze my thighs. Grayson slides his hands under, lifting me higher.

"This is where everyone eats!"

A violent shudder runs through me. He kisses my clit, softly sucking the swollen bud. "What do you think I’m doing now?"

Eating me. Licking my most intimate parts. Making my back arch with pleasure.

I’m blind to his movements, but every sting of his tongue lashes my skin. He dives in between my folds, deeper. His mouth closes around me and sucks.

I want to sit up and tear his hair out. I want him to stand and guide his thick cock inside. My heart pounds. Desire stabs me with every thrust of his tongue. Why the fuck is he doing this—what does he have to gain from eating out my pussy? He can’t be enjoying this.

His smile seals against me in the dark. My wetness glides up and down his cock as he strokes himself.

He rubs my clit. My sigh splits the air, and he pauses for a second, laughing. "Careful, Saffie."

"I can’t—keep quiet." I bite my lip hard when he presses down. "You feel amazing."

"I can always gag you, I guess. You’d look sexy with a rubber ball in your mouth."

He plants a wet kiss on my throbbing pussy. I’ll scream. There’s no way around it. My lips clamp shut. I blow air into my cheeks as he keeps fucking me with his tongue. His breath hitches as he strokes faster. I imagine his fist clenched on his cock, his biceps bulging as he masturbates to the sight of me spread open. A vivid image of him finishing over my body barrels through my head. The ache between my legs persists, growing with every soft groan that blasts into my pussy. I moan into my hands as he fingers me. Then he takes me into his mouth, flicking my bud, and I clench hard. My walls tighten over empty space, convulsing. A ragged moan escapes my throat, echoing through the house.

I lift my head, searching for him. "Do it. Finish on me."

I want him to be part of this, too. He grips my thigh with a growl, hand moving fast with the slickness gathered between my legs. I can hear him trying to keep quiet, but he can’t stop the buildup in his chest, and he groans. His fist still pumping, ropes of hot cum hit my body. Grayson gasps as the last drop squeezes from him. He lifts me up, to the door leading outside. My heart freezes.

Were we too loud?

He brings me into the cool air. The porch light flares with a flick of Grayson’s wrist. He sets me down on the steps, grabbing the discarded towel. His eyes rake my body. "I want to memorize the way you look right now forever. Naked. Just fucked. Covered in my cum." Grayson takes my chin, his breathing still frantic. "Tell me we’re doing this again. And again."

I’m sticky with his essence and not in a hurry to clean it off. God, I need more of him. "How am I supposed to say no?"

He seals his lips against mine, ending his fierce kiss with a growl. "You’re not."

Then he wipes me with the cloth, careful to remove every drop. He picks up his board shorts, handing me my bikini bottoms.

He brushes my cheek. "See you in the morning, beautiful."

Grayson leaves my side to head into the house, as naked as the day he was made. I clutch the towel to my chest, looking in his direction long after he’s gone.