A week traipses by, then another, and soon we’re in the throes of an entire legion of pumpkins in every color, shape, and size, cutouts of witches and skeletons, and a Halloween pop-up store on every other corner. October has always been one of my favorite months, dark, brooding, and a little bit scary, just like me. I’m still a bit miffed for subjecting myself to one big confessional on that Ferris wheel with Rush. But in my defense, I was under extreme duress, and anything and everything was liable to spew from my mouth. But those kisses... Rush has been by my side for every single Love in the Night show, and, of course, being the kinky gentleman he is, has offered to walk me back to Cutler Tower each and every time. And being the lusty young woman I’m turning out to be, I offered up my lips as payment. It’s weird. During the day, we’re pretty much back to loathing one another—okay, so it’s mostly me loathing him, but still things are far too normal. It’s as if those kisses, that entire conversation back in that death trap—aka the Ferris wheel—never happened.

I do my best to shake all thoughts of Rush Knight out of my head, despite the fact his sister and I are headed to Hallowed Grounds for a cup of much-needed pumpkin spice everything. Over the last few weeks, I’ve been able to pick apart Sunday’s ultra-feminine features and spot those of her brother’s lurking in there. I can see him in her eyes—the almond-shaped slant, her brows—although heavily doctored—are similar to his, and they have the same nose, straight and perfect. Sunday is perfect in general, and I loathe the fact I’m forced to admit, Rush is, too.

We step into Hallowed Grounds, with its thick scent of coffee, the oversized framed pictures of the Hollow Brook overlook they’ve recently put up along with the mandatory cups of steamy coffee, and barrels full of fresh roasted beans. I love this place. And right now, I love it just a little bit more because there’s hardly anyone haunting the place. Hallowed Grounds is notorious for inconceivably long lines that snake right out the door.

“Only three people in front of us,” Sunday chirps as she slings an arm around my shoulder. “I know you’re secretly doing a happy dance.”

“Are you kidding? You should have seen the line I slayed at the Fall Festival.” No sooner do the words spill out than I wish I could slurp them back up again. Geez. I went with her freaking brother. I’m pretty sure Sunday doesn’t want to hear all the gory details of our not-so-friendly little lip-lock.

“Who’d you go to the festival with?”

Crap. “Oh, just you know—Knox and stuff.”

“And stuff? Did he win Clyde for us?” Her left brow arches in that cute way Rush is prone to do, and I melt a little on the inside. Swear to God, I did not just melt for Sunday.

I nod like a dolphin until the barista barks at us to step up to the counter.

We put in our orders, and while waiting for our drinks, Serena and Harley show up and we all grab a table near the window. Neither Sunday nor I have mentioned Clyde or the festival again, so things may not be so terrible after all.

Serena stomps her coffee cup over the table as if calling the meeting to order. “Kappa Kappa Gamma is throwing a Halloween party. Harley and I are both going as cats.” She holds her fingers up in the shape of a V and waves them across her eye.

Sunday grunts, “I’m going as myself. I haven’t worn a costume since I was three.” She averts her eyes, and I see him flickering in them, making my stomach bisect with heat. “I might do some cool things on my face—a butterfly mask, a skull with flowers. How about you?” She takes a bite of her cake pop in the shape of a pumpkin while looking my way.

“I’m going as Knox’s twin. I can’t remember the last time I wore a costume either. And even though the cat sounds cute and sexy—knowing me, I’d just resent the boys for gawking at me that way.” Truth. It doesn’t take much for me to hate society at large, and offering someone the silhouette of my body on a pumpkin platter that night will only accelerate the effort.

Harley shakes her head and looks exactly like her sister’s twin. It’s weird that Harley’s sister and my brother are getting it on. Freaky actually. The thought that anyone could see past my brother’s smelly socks and propensity to play computer games at all hours of the night is actually a bit heroic once you think about it. Harper deserves a medal.

“You both have to dress up,” she scolds Sunday and me in a firm, motherly tone. “It’s no admission unless you’re in costume, so if you want to have fun, on this, the first Halloween at WB, you’ll need to pony up and put on your big girl cat suit.”

“Cat suit, huh?” Rush’s pussy posse comes to mind, and I growl without meaning to.

“Fine”—Serena inches back—“werewolves are welcomed, too.”

“I’m thinking more of a canine,” I shoot back with a greasy grin slipping up my face. “A female dog to be exact.”

Sunday knocks me in the ribs with her elbow. “They said wear a costume, remember?”

“You’re not funny.”

The conversation peters out, and we talk about the icy weather, our endless papers that are due between now and the first week in December, the new cosmetics counter at the bookstore, and, of course, boys—in a very vague general sense since none of us have our eyes on a plus one. Not really. Mostly not. Okay, maybe.

“You know”—Sunday winces over at me while swilling her coffee in one hand—“you’re awful quiet. You sure there’s not someone you’ve got your eye on?”

“Who me?” My spine straightens as if someone just drove a stake through it—as if her words had the power to drive the fear of God into me, and they do. “Nope. Not I. I hate boys. I hate all members of the opposite sex in fact, sans my dad and brothers, of course.” Liar, liar, vagina on fire. The only one I really hate at the moment is me.

The three of them continue to stare at me as if I just sprouted a third eye.

“Nobody hates boys,” Serena huffs. “Speaking of which.” She plucks her purse off the ground and bounces to her feet. “They give the best tips. I’m headed to the Black Bear. See you witches later!”

Harley stands and calls for her to wait. “I’m headed to the library.” She wrinkles her nose at me. “No offense, Trixie, but thou doeth protest too much. Give up his name or we’ll be forced to sink to unkosher resources to retrieve this delicate information.”

I scoff as they speed out the door.

“As if. Like really? Come on.” I lean back and fold my arms over my chest. My heart’s beating so fast, and I can hardly catch my breath.

“Wow, that was visceral.” Sunday squints into me the way Rush does just before he’s about to crash his mouth over mine, and I let out a little yelp.

She sucks in a breath, laughing while collecting her books. “You do like somebody. Ha! I’ve got a study session in the commons room, but I swear if you don’t confess his name by midnight, I’m going in full detective mode.”

“Full detective mode?” a deep voice strums from above, and we look up to find Knox with a tight smile. “Anything you need my help with?”

“No!” we both shout in unison.

“I gotta run.” Sunday makes a face that screams a quasi-apology. “Oh, and hey”—she taps Knox over the arm—“that was so sweet of you to take your sister to the Fall Festival! I wish my brother would take a cue from you. And that donkey you won is beyond adorable. He’s our official room mascot.” She gives a spastic wave before ducking out the door, and I suddenly have the urge to bolt right along with her.

“Mascot, huh?” Knox flips a chair around and sits on it backwards. He leans in with a sober expression, just trying to read my features.

“Nope. Not going there with you,” I’m quick to say.

“So there is a guy.” Knox makes it sound like the death sentence it is for both the guy in question and me.

“I didn’t say there was a guy.” My face floods with heat that might as well have formed a neon sign across my forehead that reads, there is a guy!

Knox furrows his brows. His face contorts into something just this side of pissed.

“Who is he?” His voice softens in that fake way that lets me know he’s all about bashing Rush’s head in. God—if he knew it was Rush, he’d bash every last part of him in.

“Well, I gotta run. I have a group meeting in the media room. You know, radio stuff.” God, I’m such a terrible liar. And then a thought comes to me. “Actually, I have to go over emails for that advice column I’m working on. Can you believe, come next fall, I’ll be the fountain of sexual truth to anyone who has a dirty question to ask?” I do love to watch my brother squirm.

Knox glowers at me a second. “That’s a frightening thought. You get that email from Mom this morning?”

As a long-standing rule, all emails from my mother are promptly ignored or deleted. I don’t really care to open yet another annoying avenue of communication with her.

“I didn’t think so.” Knox tips his head to the side, pleading with me before he says a word. “She told me about that card she gave you a few weeks back.” He twists his palm against his eye as if the whole idea fatigued him. “I told her it wasn’t necessary. We’d go.”

“What? I’m not going. Dad never brainwashed me. In fact, did you get the text from Dad yesterday? He wants to meet for dinner.”

Knox twists his lips, just staring at me as if trying to find the right words to put together. “You know, Dad may not have brainwashed us, but he didn’t exactly demand we visit her while she was in prison either.”

“We were kids! FYI: prison is a scary place. Most rational people understand that. And most rational people understand that when you get out of prison and divorce your husband, it feels like you’re abandoning your family all over again.”

“That’s not what happened, Trix.”

“It is. I was there.” I gather my things and spike to my feet.

“She just wants a relationship with you. Can’t you cap the hostility already? Grow up and move on. Have dinner with her once in a while. Go to that stupid meeting with me.”

“No,” I bark at him so loud, half the place turns to inspect the situation. “And don’t you dare go either. You are siding with me on this one. Got it? We’re a team, Knox.” My voice cracks. “Do not betray me.” I speed out into the sub-Arctic temperatures and note the storm brewing above campus, dark purple clouds with painfully fat bellies that look as if they’re begging to be lanced.

I know how they feel. My heart has felt the same way for as long as I can remember.

---

Since I may have spilled not one but two lies at my brother’s feet—and since there was no way I was about to confess to the fact there was a boy in my life—I figured it was a good time to catch up on my advice column instead and reduce the falsehoods by one.

You would not believe the crap people clog my inbox with. Should I quit WB and head to Nashville to start my country music career? My boyfriend swears he’ll leave me if I do. What a dunce. Of course, you should follow your dream—after graduation. And might I kindly suggest you ditch the crusty boyfriend, too?

Next—I’m attracted to my best friend’s brother. Should I pursue this and risk ending a lifelong friendship? Ha! You and every other girl at Briggs. Is he hot? Of course, you should pursue this. I’m sure your bestie will get over it soon enough. And if it ends badly, she’ll probably help wipe away the tears, too.

I don’t bother juxtaposing my own life to that last mockery.

Next—I’m in an extracurricular club, and I’m crushing hard on the leader. Confession, I’ve slept with him more than once—but lately I can hardly get a hello. How can I get him to notice me again?

My heart stops cold. Why do I get a very distinct Miranda Smirnoff feel about this one? I know for a fact she’s bedded her way through Beta house. Why not Rush? Wait a minute… I distinctly remember her bragging about the fact she landed on his mattress on three different occasions. Triple ick. I guess everyone but me has bedded the aforementioned raunchy frat brat. My God, what do I say to her?

Here goes nothing—or better yet, something special tailor-made just for her.

How about you exit the club in question before he files a restraining order? Surely you can’t take a hint, so I’ll give you one. HE’S NOT INTERESTED!

It takes everything in me not to add Stay away from my man, and the thought alone has me freezing.

“Oh my God.” I shake my head as I stare out at my laptop, the words blurring into one dizzying spiral of nonsense. Rush is not my man. The sooner I buck up and accept the fact, the sooner I can end this tonsil hockey rally we have going on.

It’s all so dizzying, so overwhelming. Rush is not my anything. He belongs to Miranda—she said so herself. In fact, he’s probably with her now. Bleh. I hope she’s having a real leaky period. Is that wrong? I don’t think so. It’s not like I’m wishing she fell into a sinkhole, or got trampled by a wild pack of wolves, maybe even bitten once or twice in those nasty pink parts of hers she’s forever trying to please by way of my man.

I suck in a sharp breath. Oh my God. Did I just refer to Rush Sticks-His-Tongue-Down-My-Throat-Any-Time-He-Feels-Like-It Knight as my man—again?

GAH! Someone get a bucket of bleach so I can wash out my brain. Clearly, I’ve been tainted.

It’s like in a bizarre twist of fate I’ve been thrust into some invisible love triangle with Miranda Smirnoff of all people. Invisible being the operative word. I’d go as far as saying nonexistent, but that doesn’t seem right. Something is definitely happening, but what? And more importantly, why? And why am I sitting here in this stuffy room contemplating my life when I can be out there in the brisk fall air doing the same thing? A sudden burst of adrenaline hits me, inspiring me to change. I grab my purse and head out for the evening. I just need some fresh air. I just need to clear my head. I just need—

“Rush?” I stop cold as the elevator opens to the ground floor. The cool night air swoops in around me as I stare out at this six foot two gorgeous being who’s staring at me, horrified, as I just morphed into a semi and were about to flatten him like a pancake.

“Hey”—he reaches back and scratches his shoulder. There’s a boyish charm about him, and yet those heavily lidded bedroom eyes constantly demand that my hormones tend to him. “I was just heading up. Sunday around?”

“Nope.” I stride right past him, and he follows. “She’s going at it hot and heavy in some orgy-like study sesh. If you want to crash, I think she’s in the commons room.”

“Where are you headed?” He picks up his pace just to keep up.

“I don’t know,” I pant because the very person I’m running from happens to be by my side.

“You hungry?”

“Not really.” My stomach growls on cue as if to protest.

“How about a movie? I heard Revenge of the Dolls came out yesterday.”

I pause to glower at him properly. “I sleep with a stuffed donkey and a nightlight. Do I sound like the kind of girl who wants to have nightmares about demon-possessed dolls for the rest of my life?”

Rush chuckles as we begin the race toward the parking lot again. “So how about something else? Lady’s choice. I’ll buy the popcorn. It’s better than hitting Beta house. That’s never been healthy for me.”

I glance back at Cutler Tower, and that ridiculous email from Miranda comes to mind. If I say no, he might make his way to Beta house. If he makes his way to Beta house, Randy Mandy might spike the trash can punch and land him horizontal in no time. Rush has a weak will when it comes to sluts.

I scowl over at him for a good long while. “Okay, but only because your general health is at stake. Beta house equals many drunk skanks, which most likely equals mileage on your mattress. For the safety of your blue balls, I’ll babysit you at the movies for a couple of hours. Your car or mine?” I dangle my keys at him.

That goofy grin of his slides off his face. “Mine. You’ve got a bite to you tonight, and I’m guessing that translates into road rage. Are you always so pissed, or is that just something you reserve for me, sweetheart?”

“Ha!” I bark out a laugh as we head for his truck. “It’s all you, baby. Oh, how you piss me off. Let me count the ways.”

I belt out smart-aleck remarks all the way to the Hollow Brook Cineplex, and Rush bounces them right back at me like a master sniper. By the time I get out of the truck and into the theater, I feel invigorated with the ninja level of sarcasm that was expertly lobbed for thirty minutes straight.

“You know I never thought I’d meet a guy who could keep up with me on an emotional level,” I say as we enter the throngs all clamoring for their right to see a Saturday night flick.

“I’m not keeping up.” He slings an arm around my shoulder. “I’m just treading with my head above water. You’ve got a lethal mouth, you know that?”

A line of heat sears over me from where his arm landed.

“It’s my gray matter that’s brimming with poison. My mouth is merely the vehicle to expressing my greatness.” Just as I’m about to laugh at the absurdity of my statement, I note the single file line strumming a mile long—and holy crap, why is it zigzagging back and forth in a demonic corral formation as if this were the line to get on the Matterhorn at Disneyland.

“I can’t do this,” I whisper, backing away as if every single person in the vicinity just morphed into a Komodo dragon.

“Can’t do what? The Doll thing? There’s a new Pixar movie I’m sure your nocturnal wanderings will approve of. No nightmares, I promise.” He leads us to the gargantuan line, and my body spikes with heat. I can’t help but look at the melting pot of bodies all coagulating together in a tight knot of humanity. My God, what if I get into the thick of it and I pass out and die? That dizzying, earthshattering feeling rips through my body, and my skin begins to crawl. A nervous buzzing takes over, and it’s suddenly impossible for me to stand still in one spot.

“I can’t do this.” I look up at Rush, at those lips that have spent the last two months comforting me in ridiculously religious ways. “I’m sorry, Rush.” I cower a moment before taking a breath. “There’s something you should know about me.” I swallow hard as he leans in at complete attention. “I can’t stand in lines.” I shrug because I for one don’t quite get it myself. “I don’t have the ability. I swear, I used to. Once upon a time, I could stand in a line with the best of them. Long, short, it never occurred to me that one day I’d lose the ability.” My body slaps with heat, and the slight breeze from the passing crowd cools me. “It’s stupid. Trust me, I know. I just—” I look to the blooming bodies taking over the foyer of the Cineplex and wonder why in the hell anyone would want to stand in that hot mess. The more bodies that crowd around us, the more the room seems to pulsate. “I’m sorry. Maybe you should stay. You can call somebody sane, and they can meet you here. Miranda Smirnoff maybe,” I belt out her name like an expletive. “I’ll Uber back to campus. I’m sorry I messed up your night.” I dart for the exit as every cell in my body screams for relief. The silence outside is deafening, and the frozen blast of air is more than welcome as I pause to catch my breath.

“Whoa”—Rush spins me toward him—“I don’t know what just happened there, but I think I kind of get it.” His left eye comes shy of winking. There’s a kindness, a softness to his features that I haven’t quite seen before. He’s telling me something with his intense gaze, and for the life of me I can’t figure it out. But I do know this. Right now, at this moment, everything is going to be okay. “How about we head back to my place?”

“A little Netflix and chill?” I glare at him for even implying it, and yet my girl parts just roused from their sexual stupor.

He inches his head back, feigning disbelief. “A little Netflix minus the chill. Boy, you really have your head in the gutter twenty-four seven, don’t you? I’m so chaste I’m practically a priest.” He gives a sly wink, implying he’s not.

“Yes, well, I’m a bit of a naughty nun myself. Maybe we can hit a fast food place before we land on your couch?”

“I like how you’re thinking. Tacos sound good?”

“Fine by me. Rumor has it, you buy them for all the pretty girls.” I bat my lashes up at him as we head for his truck.

Truthfully, tacos at Rush’s new place sounds just as frightening as standing in a line of any size.

But that’s one challenge I’ll gladly accept.

---

Rush buys all the tacos. Like really. Six bags of Taco Bell and a couple of slushy drinks with enough sugar in them to ensure a food coma. We plant ourselves on his leather sofa and kick off our shoes. Rush and I thumb through the Netflix menu until finally giving up while stuffing our faces with all things ground beef and cheese.

“So what’s with the line thing?” he asks between tacos, and I can’t get past the way the muscles in his jaw flex with his every bite. It’s a sad state of being when you’re openly lusting after someone solely based on their mastication skills. Okay, that’s a lie. There are a myriad of reasons I lust after Rush, and it sickens me to think about them.

“The line thing is inexplicable. Sort of like why does the universe exist, and why the Mustangs lost their last two away games. Actually, I can explain that last one. I wasn’t there. I’m sort of my brothers’ good luck charm.” I abandon my taco pursuit after a measly two and start sucking down my slushy in search of that ever-elusive brain freeze. I’ve yet to have one myself, and I basically think it’s a hoax someone dreamed up in order to trick the sheeple into believing in it. People are ridiculously easy to manipulate.

A sharp pain erupts in my forehead, and I slam my drink back onto the coffee table. “Brain freeze! Brain freeze! My God, it’s real!”

“Of course, it’s real.” He puts his food down and picks up his own slushy. “I’m not following your lead by the way. You’re supposed to take it easy with these things.” He takes a few simple sips. “See?”

“Mocker.”

“Now stop changing the subject. Tell me about the line thing. Is that why you freaked out at the fair that day?”

“Yes, it’s exactly why I freaked out. I have a line limit—less than three or I’m out. Believe me, I’ve abandoned full carts at the grocery store before. I didn’t buy my books at the student store for a week after everyone else. And forget about those long lines for the ladies’ room at ballgames. I’ve been known to hightail it back to my dorm if need be. I’ve memorized the location of every bathroom at Briggs as if it were a survival skill, and at this point, it basically is.” A breath catches in my throat. I’m pretty sure discussing your obsession with indoor plumbing does not a romantic evening make. Wait, that’s not what I’m looking for, is it? I mean, this is Rush.

Those lips of his call to me, and my thighs start to shake. Knox may have explicitly demanded that I stay away, and yes, maybe in my rebellion those very words backfired on my brother, but this—whatever this animal attraction is, I don’t think I can stop it. It’s as if I stepped onto a haunted merry-go-round after just one kiss, and now I’m too high off this dizzy feeling he gives me to ever want to leave.

Rush sets down his drink, his affect growing quickly serious. “Come here.” He pulls me over onto his lap, and it feels natural. It feels right. Rush is a god that I can’t stop worshipping, and according to my brother, he’s the devil himself. “I understand the line thing, Trix.”

“You d-do?” I’ll admit he’s stunned me. Heck, I don’t even understand the line thing.

“Yes.” He gives one long blink, and for a moment I fight the urge to kiss his eyelids. “When my mom died, I sort of went through something similar. I couldn’t be near a crowd. Amusement parks? Forget it. And believe me, my cousin Lex tried every trick in the book to cheer me up. For a long time, I’d see a crowd of people and I’d bolt.”

“Really?” My heart ratchets up right into my ears. “Did you find out what was wrong?” My God, Rush might just hold the answer to this nonsense that’s been brewing inside of me just this side of forever.

“Yup.” He presses his head back into the sofa, looking up at me with a forlorn look in his eyes. “My dad took me to a shrink, and she told me I had social anxiety.”

“Social anxiety.” I try the words out on my lips as my heart continues to pummel my chest. “So what changed? Is that why you started your pornographic conquests? My God, am I going to have to mount every available male on The Row just to rid myself of this social disorder? I’ll trade one disease for the next—anxiety for syphilis!”

His body rumbles with a laugh. “No. I promise you don’t have to do that. In fact, it’s a bit more complex and simple all at the same time. You just need to face your fear. You need to get in the longest, thickest line possible and dare the worst to happen.”

“The worst?”

“Yes, whatever it is you fear might happen to you in that line.”

“I’ll die.” I’m not sure how I know this—I just do.

“You won’t die. Trust me, you’re not talented enough to override your autonomic response system. At best, you’d pass out, and even then you’d still keep breathing. You’re basically rigged to live. It’s a fixed fight.” He gives my ribs a squeeze.

“There’s no way I can do that.” I shake my head at the thought of putting myself in that horrid situation. I would never in a million years seek a line and then bury myself in the center of it. It’s pure torture. Just the thought sends adrenaline racing through my veins.

“You’ll get over it.” He offers a sad smile. “It could take some time, though. I could test it out with you if you like?”

“No, thanks,” I’m quick to dismiss the offer. “So what happened to your mom?” Stupid, stupid me. Sunday and Rush share a mother. Of course, I know what happened to her. She died in a car wreck. I swear, each time I’m around this boy, I lose at least a dozen brain cells. Rush is detrimental to my intelligence, and if I had a few more brain cells, I’d run.

I bite down on my lip so hard I’d swear I taste blood. Mothers in general are not my favorite topic.

“I killed her.” He offers a sheepish grin that lasts less than three seconds. “She died in an accident on her way to pick me up from practice. I was still in elementary school. Way too young to lose your mom.” He offers the fireplace a sober glance. “But you’ve still got yours. Knox and Rex are forever talking about what a great family you guys have. I really envy that.”

“Well don’t. Have they mentioned the fact my mom went to prison, and then once she was released, sliced my family in two? Trust me, I’d gladly trade shoes with you.”

“Take that back.” He doesn't miss a beat. Rush went from listening attentively to actively pissed in less than two seconds, and I feel awful.

“I’m so sorry.” My hand slaps over my lips. “That was completely boneheaded of me. Of course, I’m lucky to still have both my parents.” My arms flare up with heat, and I can’t help but scratch them. I nod down at the newfound bumps forming. “It’s sort of a typical reaction whenever I talk about my mom. I guess one might say I’m allergic.”

Rush picks up my hand and kisses the back of it before offering a pained smile my way. “Let me guess. The social anxiety started around the time she went away?”

I pause a moment doing the anxiety-riddled math. “I guess it doesn’t take a genius, does it?” My body molds over his as if he were my favorite chair, and he is. I look up at his beautiful face and scratch at the dark scruff he’s sporting. “What are you doing with a mess like me? You didn’t have to kill a perfectly good Saturday night with a nut job. The girls are about to protest your reign of abstinence by way of staging a mass sexual assault. Prepare to be jumped by an entire gang of stiletto wearing vixens.”

“What?” He inches back and manages to look ten times more comely than should ever be legal. “You happen to be my favorite nut job. Besides, I’m not going back to where I was. Ironically, it wasn’t satisfying.”

I trace his lips with my finger as he speaks and laugh. “No girl worthy enough to tame the steed, huh? Maybe you’re a switch-hitter?”

“Nope. Not this boy.” He leans over and lands a soft kiss to my forehead, and my insides disintegrate into a boiling hot cauldron. What exactly is happening here? Lap sitting, forehead kisses? We must have wandered into that invisible zone that no longer exists once we hit the rest of the student population. Sadly, I think I like this reality best. “I’m pretty sure I’m still playing for the same team.” His Adam’s apple rises and falls. “I think what’s happened is, I’ve traded the masses for just one girl.”

Holy hell. I can’t breathe, think, or move. Did he just say what I think he did?

“Which girl is that?” Our body heat explodes, and suddenly it feels way too warm to be wearing a stitch of clothing.

“I’ll give you a hint.” His eyes close partway. “It’s not Miranda. Different girl. Different league.”

Rush brings his lips to mine, and I melt slowly, completely into a hot puddle of want right here in his arms. His mouth opens as his tongue crashes into my mouth, and suddenly the heat in the room explodes to an all-out inferno. Rush wraps his arms around me tight as I hike my legs over him, straddling him right here on the sofa. His kisses explode with hunger, with an all-out lust for me as if he were a starving man in need of what I could give him in order to survive.

My hands slip up his shirt, and my palms land over that searing hot flesh of his I’ve only dreamed of touching these last few weeks. The hard outline of his abs stuns me. I’ve never felt a guy’s chest before. The few times I’ve sucker punched my brother I would swear he was soft as an old pillow, but Rush here is like a marble sculpture. This is one hundred percent skin over stone. Nothing about Rushford Knight is soft, especially not that hard protrusion rubbing against my thigh.

Oh my God, it’s going to happen. I’m going to lose my virginity to the one person I swore I would never open up to like a flower. But that was the old Rush. This is the new, improved, eyes for only me version. Right? My heart drums hard against his chest, and I’m embarrassed that he might actually feel it. I’m pretty sure that laundry list of other girls who have had the pleasure to be in this position were cool as a cucumber, knowing full well what to do and how to do it. Face it. I’m a novice. For all practical purposes, I really am a nun. And I’m pretty sure once Rush figures that out, he’ll send me packing.

His fingers slip under my sweater, and I take in a quick breath as the sensation of his flesh hits mine.

Rush pulls back, his eyes still drugged and lazy as he gives a sly grin. “Don’t worry. We’re taking it slow.”

“Slow,” I mouth as I fall back to his lips.

Rush and I are taking it slow, which firmly implies we are taking it somewhere. We have boarded the sex express, ladies and gentlemen! The wheels on the sexual bus will go round and round until we have cleared all bases! I repeat. We are en route to rounding out all bases and scoring a home run!

His hands sear over my back, gliding up and down, warming me from head to toe. That sweet spot at the base of my thighs starts in on a continuous ripple, and I shudder over him without meaning to. I’m pretty sure Rush has handled his fair share of virgins, but at the moment I’m only concerned with one—me.

I trail lingering kisses over that wild, prickly stubble of his that I love so much, all the way to his temple.

“I want you,” I do my best to sound sultry, but it comes out in a fury of aggressive pants instead.

He buries a kiss directly into my ear. “I want you, too, Trix.” Rush digs his fingers into my hips, pressing me hard over his lap as his kisses grow ever so wild. His tongue unleashes a furtive assault, and I’m right there with him, battling away as if we were on opposing teams.

A hard knock comes over the door. “You in there, Knight?”

SHIT! I’d know that voice in my sleep.

“It’s my brother.” I propel off his body so fast I’m airborne for at least ten seconds as I fly to his bedroom and barricade myself inside. I lean against the door and crack it open in the event I need to call 911. When Knox bashes Rush’s skull in, it won’t be pretty. And believe me, it’s a when, not an if.

“What’s up?” Rush’s voice gongs through the house, and my girl parts pulse in and out like a Pavlovian dog. Wow, I am beyond disgusting, freely orgasming within shouting distance of my brother.

“You didn’t show up for practice this afternoon. I stopped by to watch, and no one knew where you were. I wanted to see what was up.” Footsteps head deeper into the living room. Crap. It’s just like Knox to invite himself in. No freaking manners. “Dude, is this Trixie’s purse?”

DOUBLE SHIT!

“That’s Sunday’s crap,” Rush grouses. “She’s always leaving stuff at my place.”

My God, Rush is so cool I can feel the glacial breeze from twenty feet away.

“But it might be your sister’s,” he says thoughtfully yet stupidly. “Sunday says she’s forever stealing her stuff.” Ah! Vindication. Rush is right back to being a genius. And for the record, I do not steal Sunday’s stuff. We have set very clear guidelines that everything is available to the both of us, minus her contacts and my retainer.

“Dude”—Knox moans it out as if someone just stabbed him in the gut—“I am so fucked. She’s into some guy, and she won’t tell me who. Apparently, he took her to the fair.”

“The one you were going to take her to?” The sound of water running catches my attention. Is Rush doing the dishes? I’ll admit that makes me ten times hotter for him. Sexy and domestic? Rushford Knight does not fight fair.

“Yup.” I can feel the tension in my brother’s voice, and it kills me. Knox is the one person in the world I would do anything for, and keeping a secret from him is practically sacrilegious. “Anyway, she’s in that media club with you. Keep an eye on her. Maybe listen in on a conversation or two.”

What the fresh hell? How long has he been invoking these spy games on me? Is this how he knew I was lying in the fourth grade when I told him I did not in fact swallow his marbles. My father was not amused at the fact he needed to get up close and personal with my bathroom breaks.

“I have to know who this dude is.” Knox sounds like he’s about to cry. Or kill. Probably that. “Anyway, I’m sure she’ll give him up sooner than later. Trix is lousy at keeping secrets. I know her like the back of my hand. She’s ready to cave. She wanted to tell me this afternoon. I could see it in her eyes.”

Rush grunts, “So what if she’s got a boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?” Knox says it at the same time I think it. It’s that twin thing happening again.

Is that what Rush is? My boyfriend? A secret boyfriend who’s risking life and limb to sneak behind my brother’s back? Huh. This all sounds ridiculously middle school all of a sudden. For a second, I contemplate sauntering right out of this room and exposing myself, tousled hair and all, but I quickly decide I like viewing my brother sans prison bars. One incarcerated Toberman was more than enough.

“Dude”—Knox barks out an obnoxious laugh as if it were the most ludicrous thing he’s ever heard—“no one is going to commit to that level of crazy.” Bastard. “Yes, she’s my sister, but she’s batshit. She’s still growing up.” He’s got me there. “She’s not ready for a commitment. I’m just afraid there’s some idiot out there trying to get into her pants. My biggest fear is she’s with him right now, just steps away from losing her virginity.” A hard thump comes from somewhere deep in the living room, and I’m half-afraid that sound was Knox punching Rush’s heart right out of his chest because he’s already figured it out. “Anyway, keep an eye and an ear out. I have a feeling this mystery will be coming to an end pretty soon. I’d better head home. Harper’s on her way.”

“No problem. And I’ll definitely keep an eye out on her,” says the big bad wolf. “Hey, Knox, don’t you think if she’s cool with you seeing someone, you should feel the same about her? I mean, she’s in college, not high school. She seems to have a good head on her shoulders. I think you’re just being a touch overprotective. Once she gets past that first boyfriend, you’ll feel a little better about the whole dating thing. It’s time for you to cut the umbilical cord. Welcome to new territory.”

“Maybe. But I doubt it’ll ever get easier.”

First, Rush just delivered a sucker punch with that whole first boyfriend line, and second, my brother just soothed it by way of his undying proclamation of love for me.

Rush heads down the hall, and I step out of his room sheepishly.

“That went well.” It takes everything in me to meet up with those citrine glowing eyes.

Rush pulls me into a hard embrace and lands a sweet kiss over the top of my head. I can feel the heated sweat emanating from his shirt, and it’s clear Rush was not as cool as he sounded.

“How about we hit Netflix?” His lips tug my earlobe, and I drink down that tickle straight to my bones.

“Sounds perfect.” I hike up on my toes and drop a kiss over his lips. “It’s exactly what I’ve pictured doing with my new boyfriend.”

A husky laugh strums from him as we head for the sofa.

Rush is my boyfriend.

This is new territory indeed.