I’m weak as shit, and I can’t seem to stay away from Gavin. I mean, his music. I can’t stay away from the music.

Or I’m completely pissed off, and I feel the need to set things straight.

I know Gavin sees me. I’ve felt the powerful, searing heat of his gaze several times throughout the current set. Of course, I’ve made my presence perfectly unavoidable. There is no way he can miss me in my body-hugging aubergine bandeau dress. Each and every subtle shift is highlighted and accentuated by the fit and shimmer of the dress.

Gavin’s isn’t the only attention I get either. His lead singer makes his way over to my side of the stage and crouches down, like he’s singing to me and me alone. Gavin does not hide the fact that he’s watching, taking it all in. The way he steps closer to where I’m dancing, squaring up to his singer, promises that I’ll get my opportunity to talk and say my piece when they’re done.

With a shift of his leg and a step forward, Gavin manages to knock the other guy back and claim the stage directly in front of me, though he’s no longer looking at me. In fact, he’s so pointedly avoiding me that I turn in a huff and find a seat at the bar. The bartender slides me a fresh drink, and though the cool liquid is refreshing, it does nothing to chill my ire.

At the unmistakable wail of, “Fuck you, Destin,” I finish the last of my frosty beverage and stalk to the door beside the stage. I practically run straight into Gavin’s hard, muscled chest. Pulling my shoulders back, I stand as tall as I can and launch into the pile of feelings I picked through all day on the beach.

“I just wanted to thank you for helping me not make the biggest fucking mistake. It literally hurts me to admit that you were right, but I would have totally regretted anything happening between us last night.”

He’s the absolute picture of calm, leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. Not one hint of emotion shows across his features. He stares at me like he’s looking through my cloud of indignation.

Embarrassment mixes dangerously with all the drinks I had for liquid courage and the heady scent of Gavin’s cologne.

“S-so, that’s it. I just wanted you to know it would have been a big fucking mistake and—” My words falter as he thrusts his body off the wall, his eyes narrowing on mine as he crowds my space. “And I don’t need to waste my time with anyone willing to blow me off and not appreciate me for who I am.”

He scoffs, and as my words fade, I shove a finger into his chest, using it to try to lend credence to the conviction I really hope I’m projecting.

Anything I planned to follow that up with gets lost in the fog of my brain when Gavin’s lips slam into mine, erasing all coherent thoughts. His hand wraps around the finger I have jammed into his chest, unfurling my fisted digits and smoothing them flat to his chest. I gasp as his other hand threads through my hair, pulling as he grasps tightly, shifting my head into the position he wants.

And there it is again. That same toe-curling kiss from last night, the one that steals my breath away and almost makes me forget how pissed I am. Almost.

When Gavin pulls back a fraction, slowing the kiss, rational thought rushes me, and I shove both hands against his chest. He doesn’t budge, but I manage to throw myself off-balance, and I’m reeling with the floor coming up fast. Strong arms wrap around me, crushing me against the very wall of muscle I just tried to escape from.

“Gracyn, stop. What the hell is your problem?” Gavin practically growls as he sets me upright.

“My problem? My problem?” I wiggle free of his grasp. “You’re my fucking problem. I have never—fuck it.” I petulantly stomp my foot and storm away from him, feeling flustered and stupid and just embarrassed.

Pushing my way through the crowd, I take a deep, cleansing breath the moment the ocean air hits my face. I text the girls I came here with and tell them I’m leaving. Taking my strappy stilettos in hand, I let the sand squish between my toes, choosing to walk back to the condo along the beach as opposed to taking an Uber. It’s not my smartest idea, but I need the time and space to think.

I shouldn’t have come here tonight. I probably shouldn’t have come to Destin at all. Instead, I should have stayed in New York and hung out with Lis. She’s most likely hiding out at our apartment or working. She works way too hard and doesn’t go out without me unless it’s to grab a beer at McBride’s, the Irish pub near our apartment.

The soft, warm sand and crashing of the waves shush the sound of an approaching runner until it’s too late. And what started out as not my best idea has quickly become the stupidest thing I’ve ever done when I sense the air shift just before a hand wraps tightly around my upper arm. The moment of panic steals my air, and the cry for help comes out as a strangled, stuttered gasp, effectively drowned in the roar of the ocean.

It almost sounds like Gracyn’s trying to call out for help. Jesus, I don’t know what the fuck just happened, why we can’t seem to get our shit together, but if she’s this panicked, this upset by me touching her, then we need to just forget this whole damn thing.

“Please don’t hurt me,” she whimpers, her words carried off on the wind.

I relax my grip on her arm. Evidently, that little bit of space is all she needs to gather her courage and badassery because, before I have time to process what’s happening, she’s got my hand trapped and arm locked, and she twists, throwing me right off-balance. And then I’m flat on my back with my eyes tearing up and her knee driving straight into my gut.

“Oh my God, Gavin?” Her knee comes off me, and she rocks back on her heels.

I cough, trying to catch the breath that whooshed out when I hit the sand.

“Are you okay?” Concern laces through Gracyn’s voice giving me hope that she actually gives a shit. She falls to her knees next to me, warm hands fluttering over my cheeks and neck, checking my pulse. Searching my eyes for signs of trauma and distress.

She leans down, her face hovering just above mine, her lips a breath away. I want to lean up and kiss her, drink her in.

“Gracyn,” I rasp. The feigned catch in my voice is just enough to pull her close to me, stilling her movements. I’m stupid to expect anything less than fury from her when the corners of my lips quiver and turn up. I want to wait, gauge her reaction, but I’m too far gone.

The muscles in my gut complain as the waves of laughter roll through me. I’m almost too slow to react to Gracyn’s balled-up fist flying toward my eye. Almost.

Time stops as I catch her hand in mine, pulling her off-balance. She lands, sprawled across my chest, grasping for purchase, trying to push herself off of me. Instead, I snake my free hand around her back and crash her lips to mine.

What starts out as a hard and unyielding kiss quickly becomes a fiery mess of passion as we nip and devour each other. There’s no way in hell I’m pulling back first. Not this time. This time, it’s up to Gracyn to put on the brakes, to slow things down. To put a stop to what’s happening here. And, as those thoughts are flying through my mind, I feel it. She pushes off me as much as her awkward, splayed-out position will allow.

Disappointment sinks deep, flowing through me. I close my eyes and blow a frustrated breath out through pursed lips, mentally talking myself out of another case of blue balls. I don’t know what it is about her, but she has me so tied up in knots; I don’t know what the fuck to do.

“Let’s go,” Gracyn murmurs against my lips, shocking the hell out of me.

I push up on my elbows, brows pinched together, searching her features for some sign that she’s bullshitting me. There’s nothing. Nothing but heat and desire swirling in the deep pools of her chocolate-brown eyes.

I stand, pulling her with me, and before I can stop them, the words come tumbling out of my mouth. “Are you sure?”

Sand clings to my skin and clothes as I stand here, waiting for her response, gauging her reaction.

“Shut up, Gavin.” Gracyn’s fingers coil around my neck, twisting into the sweaty strands curling at the back of my head. She tugs, pulling me down while stretching as tall as she can.

Her warm breath skates across my lips. I lean in, trying to close that last bit of space separating us when her grasp on my hair tightens, holding me back from kissing her.

“Don’t fuck it up this time. You won’t get another second chance.”

And, with one last sharp tug, she steps around me and scoops her shoes up off the sand without pausing. “You coming?”

Fuck, yes … but only after she does.