I can’t remember the last time I was this turned on.

My entire body is hot, sensitized, alive in a way I haven’t been for far too long. My blood is rushing, and my nerve endings are humming, and when the exit for downtown finally appears on the side of the 101, I’m so grateful I experience a full-body shudder of relief.

“Cold?” Rafe asks as we roll to a stop at the red light.

“No.” I tighten my grip on his delicious body. “Just glad we’re almost to your place.”

“Me, too.” He reaches back to squeeze my thigh, sending a fresh wave of longing rushing across my skin. “I can’t wait to get you out of your clothes, Haverford.”

“Ditto.” I bite his tattooed shoulder through his T-shirt, eager to discover how much real estate that sexy ink takes up on his chest.

“Watch it, woman,” he growls in response, fingers digging deeper into my thigh.

“Why? Don’t you like biting?”

“I like it too much. Keep it up and I’m going to pull over and fuck you against the side of that building up there.”

I consider calling his bluff and biting him again—just for the fun of making him growl—but then the light changes and the bike leaps forward, forcing me to hang on tight. The man is clearly in a hurry, and I’m not about to tell him to slow down.

Moments later, Rafe roars into the alley behind the shop and glides into one of two empty spaces behind his apartment. I slide off the back of his bike and rip off my helmet, ready to race him up to his place, but when I turn back to the historic brick building, I notice something I didn’t before.

There, in the triangle of shade near the stairs, is a girl in tight black jeans, spike-heeled black boots, and a red tank top the same vibrant shade as her full red lips. Her silky black hair is pulled into a ponytailed adorned with a polka-dot scarf that lends her outfit a vintage feel, and her black bangs are a little too short, but the look works for her. With a face like a 1950s pinup girl and the boobs to match, she’s completely easy on the eyes.

Though I’m guessing she wouldn’t say the same about me. Her gaze sweeps critically up and down my cut-offs, tank top, and combat boots, lingering on my face for a long beat without looking me directly in the eye.

I’m about to introduce myself—simply to put an end to the awkward silence—when Rafe curses softly behind me and Pinup Girl’s attention shifts his way, her dark eyes lighting up. “There you are! I was beginning to think you’d forgotten our date.”

Their date.

Oh, dear…

Well, this is unpleasant. I don’t have a jealous bone in my body—especially when it comes to fuck-buddies—but this girl’s appearance on the scene is disappointing, to say the least. I was really, really looking forward to getting Rafe naked, which isn’t going to be easy if he’s out on a date with another woman.

Inside my chest, my heart sobs and flings itself dramatically onto my stomach while my pussy curls up into a neglected ball and weeps for what might have been. What might never be now that Rafe’s been reminded that there are other hotter, sexier, less-complicated vaginas wandering around out there, eager to enjoy all the bounty that he has to give.

“I’m sorry, Alicia,” Rafe says, moving in front of me to stake out neutral territory between his double bookings. “I did forget. I’m sorry. I totally spaced. I had to help my brother with a few things this afternoon and lost track of time.”

“Oh, well, that’s okay,” she says with a resilient bounce of her shoulders. “I haven’t been waiting long, and you’re here now.” Her gaze shifts uncomfortably my way before sliding to Rafe again. “I mean, unless you’ve got other plans…”

“Of course he doesn’t,” I say, waving a breezy hand. “I’m just his sister. I mean, technically his sister-in-law’s sister, but same difference.”

Rafe turns back, shooting me an unamused look that I answer with what I hope is a chill smile. If he wants to go with this girl, I don’t want to stand in his way. Yes, I want him like I haven’t wanted anyone in a long time, but I don’t want him if he doesn’t want me. I’m no one’s pity fuck.

“We’re just family,” I insist.

“Oh, okay.” Alicia’s expression brightens as she holds out a hand and steps over several cracks in the asphalt to reach me. “I’m Alicia. Nice to meet you.”

“Carrie.” I take her slim, soft hand and give it a firm squeeze, a little sad to notice that she’s even more stunning up close. And she smells like sugar and vanilla, a bit of a childlike scent, but far preferable to the smells I picked up from playing with semi-feral cats before jumping onto a Harley for a ride through the hot sun in clothes I’ve been wearing for going on two days.

Alicia’s eyes narrow as she releases my palm. “Carrie. Why does that sound so familiar?”

I’m about to suggest that a good number of people are named Carrie—literally thousands in California alone—when her eyes go wide, and she lets out a squeal loud enough to make Rafe flinch.

“Carrie Haverford!” Alicia covers her smile with her hand, muffling her second shriek. “Oh my God, you look just like your picture! I grew up reading your books! Dude, I’m such a fan!”

“Grew up reading them, huh?” I ask sweetly as I arch a brow in Rafe’s direction. I’ve only been published for six years. How old is this girl he’s taking out for beers?

Is she even old enough to drink? To vote? To drive?

I’m about to ask Alicia if she’s jailbait and save Rafe from himself, when she loops her arm through his and gives it a familiar squeeze, making me fear it might be too late.

“This is so cool, man,” Alicia says. “I can’t believe you’re related to one of my favorite authors! We should all go out for beers, don’t you think?” She stands on tiptoe, pressing a kiss to his cheek that sends a sour taste rushing through my mouth.

I’m not the jealous kind—I’m truly not—but that’s my cheek. I was kissing it less than twenty-four hour ago. I should have dibs. At least until Rafe and I have a chance to bang the attraction seething between us out of our systems.

“I mean, we can go out just the two of us anytime,” Alicia continues, wiggling her hips back and forth like a sexy puppy, “but how often is your sister in town?”

“Sister-in-law’s sister,” Rafe corrects with a stormy glance my way. “What do you say, Carrie? Do you want to go get beers with Alicia?”

His tone infers that he would rather be stripped naked, covered in honey, and tossed into a room filled with killer bees, but apparently, Alicia isn’t great at reading subtext.

“Oh yes, please!” She bounces up and down, making her generous breasts bounce, too. “Please, please, please. You would make my day, my week, my life!”

And though I would also prefer some breed of exotic torture to drinking beers with the man I’m dying to get naked with and the girl he’s probably going to get naked with later instead of me, I force a smile and say, “Sure.”

There are few things in life that would compel me to step this far outside my comfort zone, but I’ve never been good at saying no to a fan. This girl read my books and they spoke to her. My brain took her brain on an adventure, and now we’re connected by the bonds of holy pretend.

The least I can do is go for a beer with her, make small talk, and pretend I’m not desperate to jump on her date’s penis, right?

“Fine,” Rafe grinds out through a clenched jaw while Alicia continues to bounce happily and obliviously, proving she’s probably a lot more fun in bed—and everywhere else—than I am. “Russian River Brewing company’s just down the street. Might as well go someplace close.”

I hear what he’s left unspoken—the sooner we get there, the sooner this hellish experience will be over—loud and clear. But I choose to ignore his bad attitude.

After all, I’m not the one who forgot she had a date and double-booked her vagina. Alicia and I are both innocent parties here. So in the spirit of female solidarity, I hook my arm through hers as we start around the building to the alley leading onto the main street. “So, Alicia, tell me about yourself.”

And she does—in detail.

So much detail, that by the time we reach the line of people waiting to get into Russian River Brewing Company I know that Alicia works as a wash girl at her sister’s salon, is going to community college to get a degree in fashion design, loves Mexican food, playing bongo drums in her brother’s band, and collecting miniature pig sculptures in equal measure, and has been in a book club since she was twelve years old.

“That’s where I learned about your books,” she says, squeezing my hand excitedly. “We’d just finished Harry Potter and my friend Theresa said I had to read The Kingdom of Charm and Bone next. I dove in and didn’t come up for air until I’d finished the entire thing, and I legit cried when I found out the next book wasn’t out yet. Those three months until book two came out were the longest of my entire life, I swear to God.”

My brow furrows as I do the math and come up way short of twenty-one. “So, you’re…eighteen?”

“Nineteen next week,” she says, causing Rafe to stiffen beside her and cut a sharp glance her way. “But I’ve got a fake ID, no worries.”

“You’re eighteen?” he asks, horror and disbelief warring in his features.

I cough into the crook of my elbow, covering my laugh as Alicia turns to him.

“Of course I am, silly.” She pats him on the arm. “I told you that.”

“You most certainly did not tell me that.” Rafe looks greener with every passing moment, a fact that gives me no small amount of joy. “I wouldn’t have agreed to meet up for drinks today if I’d known that. My nephews are nineteen. I’m practically old enough to be your father.”

Alicia laughs. “Oh, come on, you are not. Don’t be silly.”

Rafe scrubs a hand down his face. “I’m thirty-two.”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh no! You’re totally ancient, somebody call the nursing home.” She giggles as she nudges my shoulder with hers. “Seriously, age is just a number. Right, Carrie?”

“Totally,” I agree, fighting to keep the grin from my face as Rafe shifts his glare my way. “Unless you’re trying to enlist in the military. Or vote. Or drink beer without a fake ID.”

Rafe’s eyes narrow dangerously as Alicia lifts a finger to her lips. “Right but keep that quiet. The bartender in here is a stickler. He took my friend Kayla’s ID a few weeks ago, but she had an actual fake one with her picture on it. I just use my sister’s old one. We look a lot alike, but she’s three inches shorter so I always wear heels, just in case.”

I’m still trying to make sense of that line of reasoning, when Rafe steps between us, putting one hand on Alicia’s back and the other on mine, guiding us out of the line to get into the bar and down the sidewalk.

“What’s up?” Alicia says, glancing over her shoulder. “The line’s not that long.”

“We’re going to get coffee,” Rafe says in a firm, dad-like voice that’s oddly adorable. And sizzle-inducing, but then, just about everything he does has that effect upon me. “Or ice cream. Something without alcohol in it.”

Alicia’s nose wrinkles. “Oh, God, Rafe, please relax. You’re being crazy.”

“I’m not being crazy, I’m being responsible. I don’t drink with people who aren’t old enough to do it legally,” he says, making me grin.

“I’m beginning to think this bad boy image of yours is all flash and no substance, Hunter.” I reach over to pinch his waist, which of course has not a single ounce of fat between the muscle and his skin.

He glances my way, muttering for my ears only, “I’ll prove you wrong as soon as this date from hell is over, Haverford.”

“Seriously,” Alicia agrees from his other side, oblivious to the wickedly sexy look he’s shooting my way. “I thought you were cool.”

“Nope,” Rafe says. “I’m not cool.” He shifts his attention Alicia’s way. “So, I guess we’re both okay with this being our first and only date?”

First and only date.

The words transform my grin into a relieved smile. He hasn’t slept with this girl, he has no interest in sleeping with this girl, and as soon as we can find a place to suck down some coffee as quickly as possible, he’s going to be mine. Mine all mine.

At least for the night.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Alicia tilts her nose into the air, clearly not pleased with his response. But that’s the way people are. We always want what we can’t have. Now that Rafe’s taken himself off the menu, I’m guessing Alicia will find him at least three times more appetizing than she did before.

Ten minutes later, as Alicia is sidling up to Rafe to get a lick of his salted caramel ice cream, her fascination with me forgotten in her attempts to get back in Rafe’s good graces, my gut is proven correct yet again. Sometimes people are disappointingly predictable.

But not Rafe. He simply hands the rest of his cone over, thanks Alicia for her time, and circles around the table to rest a hand lightly on the small of my back. “Ready to get out of here, sis?” he asks in a wry tone.

“Past ready,” I reply, wiggling my fingers at Alicia. “Nice meeting you.”

“You, too,” she says. “Can’t wait for the next book!”

Before I can reply, Rafe has his arm around me, practically lifting me off my feet as he hustles us both toward the door. I settle for a, “Thanks so much!” tossed over my shoulder and then I’m outside, speed walking down the sidewalk next to a man who’s clearly ready to get me home.

“In a hurry for some reason?” I tease.

“You. Me. No clothes. No third wheel. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect,” I say as we both break into a jog to clear the crosswalk in time. We hop the curb to safety with seconds to spare, but we don’t slow our pace. We speed up until we’re racing each other through downtown, grinning like we’re up to no good.

Making quick work with his key, Rafe takes the stairs up to his place two at a time, with me not far behind. And when I reach the top, he’s there to sweep me into his arms, making me even more breathless with a kiss.