I wake up slowly, one sense at a time. The buzz of Chuckles purring comes first, louder and more solid on his exhale, soft and reedy as he pulls air in. I’m on my side, and I can feel him cuddled against my stomach, vibrating with kitty happiness and pleasure.

I’d reach down to pet him, but I’m so lusciously comfortable and warm that I can’t quite consider moving yet. That would be a waste. Because my entire body, from my feet to my face, is tucked up against a hot wall of muscle.

Adam.

Adam is in my bed, spooning me, one arm thrown over my stomach, so he can hold me close, and this should probably be freaking me out right now, but instead of rolling away, I press a little closer.

I’m using his arm as a pillow and I breathe in deep, inhaling the clean scent of soap that clings to his skin. Before I know it my tongue darts out of my mouth, just the tiniest little swipe over the smooth skin on the inside of his arm. One stolen taste of the forbidden fruit I used to feast on. He’s still asleep, his chest moving slowly and steadily up and down against my back. He’ll never know.

He’s delicious, and a wine-tasting class Syd dragged me to last year comes to mind. How would I describe Adam’s unique flavor? I take a longer taste, licking a narrow stripe along the width of his bicep, and sigh. A heady, full-bodied flavor with crisp notes of citrus and pepper and a smooth finish with a hint of salt. Perfection. Suitable to drink with every meal.

“Did you just lick me?” His voice is deep and sleepy, the words catching in his throat. He tightens his grip around my stomach, pulling me closer. His hand is under my tank top, spread against the bare skin of my stomach, and he begins to move his thumb in little circles that make me squirm.

“Piper.” He breathes out my name, sounding a hell of a lot more awake now, and his hand stops moving. We both lie there, tense and still, taking stock. Bare legs tangled together, the hot skin of his naked chest burning through my shirt, my hair moving every time he exhales.

His very hard dick pressed against my ass.

I close my eyes, because as long as I can’t see anything this could still be a dream. Normal rules don’t apply in dreams. You don’t have to be all responsible and think about your future or protect your heart. You can just do what feels good, so I wiggle my ass closer and smile when he gives a low grunt of satisfaction.

But then he pulls away, rolling onto his back with a mumbled curse.

“Sorry about that,” he says.

I open my eyes and turn to face him, still tucked into his shoulder.

“Sorry about what?”

He uses his free hand to gesture down to the tent in the covers. “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay, Adam. It’s morning. I remember how the penis works.” Vaguely.

He snorts. “That makes one of us.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s been a while, that’s all.”

Oh. I know I shouldn’t ask. No good can come of asking, but the words fly out before I can stop myself.

“How long?”

He reaches up with his free hand and scrubs his face, his hand rasping along the morning scruff on his jaw.

“A while,” he repeats. His tone is flat and final, but I keep going. We’re warm and cozy and this is it, right? We’ll never be this close again. When we leave the cocoon of this bed, we’ll be different creatures altogether, and if this is my last chance to have an honest conversation with Adam, then I’m going to take it.

“How long?” I give him a little pinch under his arm. Not to hurt, just to tickle. He squirms.

“Jesus, Piper. You really want to talk about this?”

I stay silent.

“Since before the crash,” he mumbles. He’s staring up at the ceiling, and I watch the blush stain his strong cheekbones red, flooding the places between the barely visible freckles that dot his bronze skin.

“Bullshit.”

He turns to look at me and I tip my head back, my gaze darting down to his lush lips before I meet his eyes.

“Bullshit? You think I can’t remember the last time I had sex? My brain isn’t that fucked up, sweetheart.”

“Total bullshit,” I insist, remembering all the times I checked Instagram and Twitter and felt the kick in the stomach of seeing his face pressed up against some girl while she did a selfie grin. “You’ve been surrounded by women for months. The internet is flooded with pictures of you and girls—your social media is a veritable deluge of eager vaginas and there is no way you haven’t been having sex.”

He grins down at me and I fight the urge to trace the little smile lines that appear at the corner of his eyes with my naughty tongue. I am in so much trouble right now.

“Piper Easton. Have you been stalking my social media?”

“Natalie told me about it,” I lie.

He digs his fingers into my ribs and I shriek out a laugh. “Okay, okay. Maybe I looked a few times. Nat did tell me about you getting mentioned in some article about travel Instagram accounts, so I checked you out.”

Every single day. Twice on the ones that end in Y.

He bites his bottom lip, teeth pressing into his flesh, and I’m pretty sure I swoon. I mean, I’m already lying down, so it’s hard to tell, but my head goes light and my body tingles.

“You checked me out, huh? Well, there are no pictures of girls on my Instagram. Maybe one of Autumn when I ran into her in Sydney, but that was us on the bridge with her brother. Not exactly sexy. All the rest of my stuff is scenery.”

“Your stuff, maybe, but you’re tagged in plenty of eager beavers’ selfies.”

He rolls onto his side. “Beaver selfies, huh? I’m going to have to examine your browser history, Ms. Easton. Take a look at these eager beavers for myself.”

Now it’s my turn to blush, because I’ve outed myself as the creepiest stalker in the land, and if anyone looks at my browser history, they’re going to get an eyeful of Jon Snow lookalikes sucking nipples hits that are most certainly not safe for work.

Or for watching with ex-boyfriends.

“Shit,” he rasps. “Don’t blush.” His eyes are hooded now and he’s not grinning anymore. He looks hungry.

I clear my throat. “So not since the accident, huh?”

He shakes his head.

“Is there a problem with the equipment?”

“Are you asking me if I need my cock examined?”

“Are you saying you have a problem that needs to be fixed?” I counter. Because, hey, I love fixing problems. And at this point we’re lying in bed mostly naked discussing the impressive erection that was getting up close and personal with my ass a couple minutes ago. We’ve crossed the starting line and maybe it’s time to admit we’re not simply taking a casual stroll toward the end of the course. We’re in the race. Why shouldn’t it be the race to orgasm?

And yes, he will leave and my heart will break, but at least I’ll get to come until I black out first.

His rough fingers rush along the hot skin of my cheek, pushing a lock of hair behind my ear.

“What are you thinking about?” he whispers. His breath puffs against my skin and I shiver.

“The orgasm races,” I answer.

His eyes are bright with amusement and affection. “I love that I never know what you’re going to say next. Please describe these orgasm races to me. Is it like a porny version of The Hunger Games?”

“How about I show you?”

“Sold.” He brings both hands up to cradle my head and leans down until his perfect lips are so close I can almost taste him.

But the bastard doesn’t kiss me. Not yet.

“What are we, Piper?” he repeats my question from last night.

I tip my hips forward, and we both moan as our bodies meet, his hardness pressed against my heat.

“We’re non-friends who love each other,” I say, circling my hips. “I thought we established that.”

His expression turns serious and he pulls back. “And what are we doing?”

“Getting this out of our systems?” I nod immediately, answering my own question. Because this is a great idea. I am fucking brilliant, in fact. This pull we’re feeling must be due to our unfinished business, that’s all. We need to give in to the lust, one more time, and then we’ll both be on our way. Sated and satisfied.

Maybe two more times, just to be sure.

“That’s a bad idea,” he warns.

“I don’t care.” My voice is raw, all trace of teasing gone. I don’t care anymore. I love him. I want him. He’s in my bed and I will deal with any consequences that come if it means I can have his lips on mine and feel him inside me again.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Really sure?”

“Fuck, yes,” I say loudly, and he laughs. He rolls to his back and pulls me on top of him, running his hands down my sides to my ass and pressing me close as I roll my hips and grind against him.

“Fuck, Piper. Kiss me.”

I drop an openmouthed kiss on his neck and swirl my tongue around. Hmmm. Definite notes of lust here with a firm and very rigid hint of fuck-me-now. If he were wine, I’d order a case to be delivered every week and drink the lot. Hell, I’d fill a swimming pool and drown in him.

I lick my way up his neck and I’m millimeters away from finally finally feeling his lips on mine, when there’s a knock on the door.

“Piper?”

We both freeze and the doorknob rattles.

“Piper, are you in there? Why is this door locked?”

Fuck all the ducks. It’s my mother.

“Piper? Can you come out here, please?”

And my father. Shit.

“Coming!” I yell.

“Not anymore,” Adam mumbles. His tone is grumpy, but his eyes are crinkled up with laughter. I roll off him so fast that I can’t stop myself and hit the floor with a loud thump.

“Cripes, Peanut! Do you need me to break down the door?”

“It’s fine, Dad.” I spit hair out of my mouth and search frantically for clothes.

“Are you really all right, Piper?” my mom asks.

“Yes, Mom. It was just Chuckles. I’m getting dressed, okay? I’ll be right up.”

I yank on a sweater and pull my hair back into a messy ponytail.

“Pull the covers over your head,” I hiss at Adam when I’m at the door.

“Why?”

“In case they’re still there!” My parents obviously know I’m not a virgin, but I really don’t feel like discussing my relationship with Adam with them. Or Ben. Or even Natalie at this point. The fact that I’m thinking this should probably be a huge red flag, but I can’t deal with that right now. I’m horny, confused, and facing a surprise morning visit from the parents without coffee. I’ve got enough troubles.

I’m so flustered when I hug them hello that I don’t even notice the grave looks on their faces. That comes later, when they’re sitting across from me in the living room. Ben and Nat must’ve gone on a speed cleaning frenzy because most of the evidence from the party is gone, or at least shoved out of sight. A stack of red solo cups on the coffee table is the only hint I can see that anyone was here last night.

“We’ve got some bad news,” my dad says gently. He and my mom are on one sofa and I’m alone on another, with Nat and Ben snuggled up on the loveseat between us.

I freeze. The cancer must be back, and it has to be bad for them to drop it on Ben right before the Olympics. I swallow a sob, knowing I have to be strong for my mom, and look around frantically for the tissues.

“I’ll stay with you,” I tell Mom. “I’ll call my boss this morning and pull out of the internship. I’ll move into the house, whatever you need.”

She and my dad exchange confused looks. “You don’t have to do that, honey,” she says gently.

“Of course, I do.” Damn it, where the hell are those tissues? “Chemotherapy is a big deal, Mom. You’ll need me.”

“Oh.” Her eyes fill with tears, and I have to look away, because it’s my job to keep it together right now. “No, sweetie. I’m so sorry. We shouldn’t have started out like that. I’m fine. The news is about something else.”

Relief floods through me and I let out the breath I was holding in a whoosh. No cancer. So why the hell are they here looking so serious?

I glance over at Ben, but he’s obviously as in the dark as I am. He shrugs and reaches for Nat’s hand and something in my chest twists, because this sofa suddenly feels huge. It’s ridiculous to feel alone when I’m in a room with my entire family and my best friend, but I have no hand to hold and it makes me sad.

“Grandma had a stroke last night,” Dad says. “It’s looking like she’ll recover, but it’s early days and these things can go downhill fast. Mom and I need to be there. We’re booked on a flight out this afternoon.”

“Shit,” Ben mutters. I feel the hot weight of tears pressing against the backs of my eyes again. My grandmother moved to Florida when I was in high school to escape the Colorado winters, but we were really close when I was younger. We started chatting quite a bit after Adam’s accident because Ben channeled his guilt by going MIA for a while, and when I was worried and didn’t want to upset my parents, I would call her. She’d talk my ear off gossiping about the ladies in her retirement community and tell me everything would be okay.

“Should I come with you?” My voice is croaky and strange, and Nat starts to untangle herself from Ben to come comfort me, but someone beats her to it. Adam. He’s barefoot, wearing his jeans and shirt from last night, and he slides onto the sofa next to me without a word. He doesn’t put his arm around me, probably because of our audience, but his warm thigh is pressed up against mine and he rests his palm on the middle of my back, solid and comforting.

“So sorry to hear about your mom, Mr. Easton,” he says. “Can I grab anybody some coffee?”

My dad gives him a head tip and a gruff “thanks, son,” but my mom bursts into tears at the sight of him.

Adam snatches his hand away from my back like my sweater just grew wooly teeth and bit him. I glance over at Ben, who shrugs.

“Mom?” I ask.

“Oh, Adam,” she sobs out. She practically throws herself over the coffee table and yanks him into a deep hug. He puts his arms around her tentatively and throws me a look of confusion over her shoulder.

“I’ll get the coffee,” Ben says. Then he gets the hell out of Dodge, the coward. Any sign of Easton women crying, and he turns to mush.

Mom calms down many awkward minutes later and smiles her thanks to Natalie, who zipped out of the room and returned with a box of tissues. Finally.

“It’s so good to see you,” she tells Adam. She reaches up and pushes his hair out of his face in the most classic mom gesture ever. “It’s been too long. Since before…” She trails off awkwardly, but Adam doesn’t leave her hanging.

“Before the crash,” he says calmly. “I think the last time was around Christmas two years ago. Here, right?”

Ben is back, coffee mugs balanced on an old skateboard deck. “It was actually in Park City,” he says. “Mom and Dad came out to watch that last competition, about a week before.”

My brother carries a lot of guilt about being able to ride when his best friend can’t. He’s worked through most of it, but I’ve still never actually heard him say “the crash” out loud.

Adam’s cheeks go red. “Right, of course. Sorry—the time around the accident is still a little fuzzy for me. They told me it might come back, but no guarantees.”

He picks up the stack of plastic cups and starts spinning the top one around, then squeezes too hard and cracks them all. Everyone looks carefully away, and Ben drops his improvised coffee tray on the table a little too fast. Liquid sloshes out of the mugs and my mom plucks tissues out of her box and starts mopping it all up.

Right. Moving on.

“Did you get me a ticket?” I ask. Adam passes me a mug and I cradle it in my hands, needing the warmth.

“You’ve got your surgery,” Dad reminds me. “We thought maybe if Syd is in town, she could take you?”

“She headed back to Boulder already. Classes are starting soon.”

It still feels strange that I won’t be there. My whole life has been about the academic calendar and now, suddenly, I’m free.

“Right,” Dad says. He screws up his face, clearly determined to solve this puzzle for me, but I jump in.

“It’s fine. I’ll ask someone else or postpone and do it next time I’m in town.”

“I’ll stay,” Nat volunteers. “Ben and Adam can head to Mammoth and I’ll catch up with them when Piper’s all healed up. No problem.”

But it’s a problem for me, because I know how psyched Nat is to get to that writing conference. She’s playing it cool because she wants to support Ben, but I can tell she’s been wigging out about this book stuff. Talking to those other writers will be a lifeline for her, and I’m not going to be the one to wreck it.

“I love you, but you don’t have to do that,” I tell her. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll just order more contacts to take with me and do the surgery later.”

Then everyone starts talking at once, throwing out ideas and arguing, and it’s so chaotic that none of us hear Adam at first.

“I’ll stay with Piper.” He practically yells it out, which is a good strategy to shut down an Easton family brouhaha.

We all turn to him and he smiles, soft and sweet and secret, his eyes on me. “I’ll stay,” he says again. “Nat needs to go to that conference and Ben needs to be training. My contract doesn’t require me to be anywhere for a couple more weeks—I was only heading out with Ben because it was convenient.”

“Can you drive, sweetie?” Mom asks him. I shoot her a dirty look, but she ignores me.

“All cleared,” Adam tells her. “I had to take the test again, but I took care of it last summer when I visited my parents in New Hampshire.”

He turns to me. Everyone else is still talking, but I don’t hear them anymore. We’re at the eye of the storm, just the two of us. Out there, words are swirling, and arms are waving, but in here, everything is calm, and time is measured in the slow thump of my heartbeat.

“You don’t have to do that,” I tell him.

He reaches over and puts his hand on mine. “I want to. Let me help you, Piper.”

Letting him help me is scarier than letting him into my bed. Hell, it’s scarier than letting him into my body. The thought of stumbling out of surgery, blind and confused and scared, and letting him be the one to see me like that should be an automatic hell no. But instead, I find myself nodding.

Adam squeezes my hand and suddenly all the noise and chaos of the room rushes back in. I put my fingers between my lips and whistle, and everyone turns to look at us. They shut up fast and their eyes go huge when they see Adam’s hand on mine. In fact, I swear to god they all blink three times in unison, like cartoon owls or something.

“It’s sorted,” I say. “Now tell us exactly what the doctor said about Grandma.”

Blink, blink, blink.

I clear my throat and they snap back to attention, and if any of them notice that Adam doesn’t let me go then, they don’t say a word.