Jenna paced the length of the car and back again, her feet moving because if she stopped, she'd cry or scream or throw herself into the bed of the El Camino and cry like a baby.

Dammit. How could she have been so stupid? So ridiculously naive?

And where was Reece? He should be here by now. She wasn't more than fifteen minutes from downtown, and she'd called at least twenty minutes ago. But he still hadn't come, and the more the minutes ticked by, the stupider she felt for ringing him in the first place. She should have called Brent. Or Amanda. Or, hell, she could have called Easton.

But her fingers had dialed Reece, and now he was going to see her like this, worn down, defeated, and a sniveling, mascara-lined mess.

Where was he?

She wiped her eyes again as the squeal of tires echoed in the distance, followed by headlights cresting the small hill that led to the parking lot she was currently pacing. And then Blue pulled up, and Reece was sprinting from the truck to her side.

"Jenna." His hands clasped her upper arms, and he held her in place as he examined her, his eyes taking in every inch of her, his inspection so meticulous that she knew he must be seeing her disappointment, her embarrassment, her frustration.

Her fear.

Not of the dark. Not of the dangers of being stranded in a dark and secluded parking lot.

No, this fear was new, and it stemmed from the wildness she saw in his expression. A fire so intense it could reduce her to ashes. And she saw something else, too. A promise. Or maybe a threat.

She wasn't sure. But as he bent toward her, she felt her breath catch in her throat and her chest tighten in anticipation. He was going to kiss her.

She drew in a sharp breath, and the sound acted as a talisman, breaking the spell. He froze, his posture shifting almost imperceptibly, but enough for Jenna to know that the possibility of a kiss had faded with that errant breath—and she wasn't sure if she should be relieved or very, very disappointed.

"God, Jenna, you scared the hell out of me. Are you okay?"

He pulled her close, crushing her against his chest. And at that moment, she realized just how worried he'd been—and how desperately she'd needed to see him tonight.

His fingers dug into her arms as he eased her back away from him. This time, his eyes fixed on hers. He released his grip, then brushed her hair back from her face, the gesture so tender she wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him close.

"I'm okay," she whispered, her voice muffled against his chest. "I'm okay now."

"What happened? Are you hurt? Did someone—"

"No. Nothing like that." She swallowed, gathering herself, then stepped back. Her emotions had been all over the place—she'd been all over the place. But now that he was here, she felt calmer. And all the more foolish because of it.

"I—it's not as bad as you'd think from looking at me. Promise. It's just, I don't know. Everything piled up on top of everything else. I mean, I'd thought they were serious about me getting this job, but then—"

"You didn't get it?"

"Not even close," she said. "The whole situation was a crock. It was me and a half-dozen other candidates, and it was so damn obvious that they weren't legitimately interested in any of us. We were just there to be cost-free labor, and—" She clenched her fists at her side, because she didn't want to think about it anymore. For over an hour now, she'd been kicking herself for being so stupid. For getting her hopes up about something that had seemed like the perfect situation, but the truth was she should have seen the warning signs.

"I'm sorry," he said gently, pulling her back into his embrace. He stroked her back, his hand going in small circles, and she smiled against his shoulder, feeling soothed and safe.

"I just feel so stupid."

"You thought you'd found exactly what you were looking for. And you were too close—and too excited—to see the dark underbelly."

She closed her eyes and nodded against his chest. "Thanks for coming."

"Are you kidding me? I'll always be here for you."

"I didn't even tell them I was leaving." She gestured back toward the warehouse inside which the company was filming. "I just ran out. All I could think about was getting away from here, but then the car wouldn't start, and—"

Tears clogged her throat, and he cupped her chin, looking deep into her eyes. "Hey, none of that. I'm here now. The power of three, remember?" He raised his hand, and she met him with a fist bump the way the three of them had all through high school.

"But only two tonight," she said. "You didn't bring Brent."

"Yeah, well, you didn't call him."

She felt her cheeks heat and hoped he didn't notice. The only one she'd wanted was Reece.

She didn't tell him that, though. Instead, she lifted a shoulder, looked down at the pavement, and said, "Well, you know. I figured you're the one who can fix the car." She lifted her head to look at him. "You can, right?"

"I'll give it a whirl."

She stepped back, giving him room to deal with the car. He popped the hood, then handed her his phone so she could aim the light at the engine. She had no idea what he was doing, but he pulled a small army knife out of his pocket, then fiddled with something, then tweaked something else.

After a few minutes of that, he stepped free of the hood and stood up to look at her. "That should do it."

"Thank you." She swallowed. "I'm—well, I'm meeting Easton in half an hour, and I don't want to be late."

His jaw tightened. "No. Definitely wouldn't want that."

For a moment, they just looked at each other. Then she wiped her palms on her skirt and cleared her throat. "Well. Anyway. I, um, guess I'll see if it starts now."

She took a step toward the driver's door. She didn't make it. Instead, Reece's hand closed around her wrist, and he pulled her back, his arm looping around her waist as his mouth crushed hard against hers. Immediately, she melted, her body going warm and soft and pliable even as she felt him harden against her. She moaned, the sound coming unbidden, and he took advantage, his tongue sweeping inside her mouth. Taking. Tasting.

Demanding.

Something inside her cried out that she should be retreating. That this was a mistake, and she needed to push him away. To back off.

But she didn't. She couldn't. Because this was Reece. This was what—who—she wanted.

And so she did the only thing she could do.

She surrendered.

* * *

Reece had imagined this moment hundreds—no, thousands—of times over the last eight months. The heat of her in his arms. The taste of her mouth. The pressure of her lips against his.

He'd spent long hours imagining the pressure of her body against his, her skin hot, her pulse rapid with desire.

Again and again, he'd succumbed to the fantasy of this wild, perfect moment.

And yet his imagination had never come close to the reality of the woman he now held in his arms.

Still, though, it wasn't enough. He craved her. Needed her.

Inside him, a dam had burst, and all of the desire he'd been fighting was spilling out, threatening to steal his reason and overwhelm his senses.

His mouth warred with hers, taking and teasing, the kisses so wild and rough that he tasted blood. His cock ached, and with every low, passionate noise she made he felt himself grow harder, until all he could think about was tossing her into the back of the El Camino and burying himself inside her as the stars shone down on them.

He wanted to feel her yield to him, to lose himself in her heat. He wanted to kiss every inch of her body. To memorize the texture of her skin and explore every crevice, every curve.

Hell, he wanted her at his mercy, and the knowledge that she wanted him too both humbled and amazed him.

"Jenna," he murmured, because he had to feel her name on his lips. Then he thrust his fingers into her hair and held her head steady so he could claim her mouth once more.

He used his other hand to explore her body, relishing the small sounds of arousal as he cupped her ass through her skirt. He wanted to pull the material up and slide his hand between her legs, then explore her slick, wet folds.

His cock twitched at the thought, but he forced his hand the other direction. Soon enough he'd lose himself in that sweet heat. Right now, the temptation was too great, and as much as the thought aroused him, he had no intention of fucking Jenna in the back of the El Camino.

Not tonight, anyway.

Instead, he moved his hand over her hip, along the curve of her waist, then higher until his fingers brushed the swell of her breast. He felt a shiver run through her, then heard her whisper his name.

"Jenna," he murmured as he cupped his hand over her breast, his thumb stroking her nipple, hard now under the thin material of her bra and her blouse.

She drew in a shuddering breath, her back arching in an invitation to a more intimate touch.

He wanted to accept. Hell, he wanted to rip the blouse wide open, to tug her bra down and flick his tongue over her nipple until she cried out for more.

And she would—he knew she would.

She was his now. No more waiting. No more wishing.

His.

Dear God, she was finally his.

And he intended to take his time to explore every inch of her, punishing her with unrelenting pleasure until she screamed his name and begged him to please, please take her, and—

"—please..."

The word, so recently at the center of his fantasy, caught his attention. "Jenna, we—"

"—can't," she finished, pulling away from him. She stood there, breathing hard, her expression miserable. "Reece, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. But this is—I mean, it's not. I mean, we can't—"

She cut herself off again, then bit her lower lip before swallowing hard and tilting her head up to meet his eyes. "Don't hate me," she whispered, "but I just can't."