Aside from our obligations (work for him, school for me), Jesse and I spend every minute together. After that first night, he’d gone to work, and I’d gone to school, with the understanding that we’d see each other again in a few hours. When he’d arrived at my apartment a little after 6:00 p.m. with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder, eyebrows raised in question, I pulled him inside and kissed the hell out of him, hoping that was all the answer he needed.

Truthfully, I’m not sure how to handle Jesse’s and my relationship—should we tell everyone? Or keep it to ourselves? What if it doesn’t work out? But once Pandora’s box was opened, I knew there was no going back. There was no fighting our attraction to each other. It was undeniable. Reactive. Explosive.

Recall how I had said that Jesse had amazing body awareness? Well, that control, that prowess, became even more pronounced during sexy times—in a big freakin’ way. I never had this much sex, amazing sex, in my entire life, and I finally think I’m starting to understand the expression fucking like rabbits, because neither of us can stop, and that’s if we even wanted to.

It’s true what I’d confided to Liza years ago in our dorm; I rarely (if ever) orgasmed with my partner. I don’t know if it was nerves, inexperience, or a combination of both, but let’s just say my grand finale rarely ended with fireworks. I’d compensated by using my Jack Rabbit to carry me across the finish line, because an orgasm is an orgasm, right?

Wrong.

Orgasms with Jesse are magical. A freakin’ full body experience that starts in the base of my spine, then sends tiny nerve pulses throughout every cell of my body before exploding in my core. And when the last spasm of pleasure ceases, he makes it start all over again.

I hadn’t even thought about my Jack Rabbit since Jesse and I started sleeping together, which is why I’m surprised tonight when he brings it up.

He’s pinned me beneath him on the bed—our bed—when he murmurs low in my ear, “Get your toy.”

My eyes snap to his and my face burns a deep shade of crimson. “What?”

“Get. Your. Toy.” His voice comes out a little harsher, and he slides back, giving me enough room to sit up.

“Jesse,” I placate, but his narrowed eyes silence me and I lift myself from the mattress to retrieve my vibrator from its storage place in the bottom corner of my underwear drawer.

His eyes trace the movement, and he nods as I place it on the bed.

His gaze finds mine. “I want you to use it.”

My eyes widen. “What?” I stumble and nearly face-plant on the mattress because I’m so flustered.

“Use. It.” When I’ve still made no attempt to move, he says, “Show me how you pleasure yourself, Ry.”

“Jesse.” My voice comes out as a warning, as a dismissal, but even as I resist, a teeny tiny voice inside my head whispers, Do it. What’s the harm? You’ve already masturbated on the phone with him.

It’s a staring contest, just like we used to have when we were kids, but this time I’m not sure I’ll win. Not sure I want to win.

Finally, he speaks. “I’m not asking, Ry.” His arms wrap around the backs of my thighs and he pulls me to lie flat on my back. His strong hands reach for the band of my pants and tug down. My shirt is next, until I’m in nothing more than my bra and panties.

He stares down at me with hooded eyes. “I like you like this.”

“Like what?”

His hands ghost over my thighs, my belly, my breasts. “Spread out and ready. For me.”

My heart pounds in my chest. I’m surprised that I let it go this far, even more shocked that I want it to go farther.

He withdraws his hands and saunters over to the corner of the room, like he has all the time in the world, and sits in the side chair where I normally drop all the clothes I’m too lazy to hang up. He leans back and stretches his legs wide. One arm is slung over the back of the chair, while the other rests dangerously close to his dick. God, I wish I were that hand right now.

I prop myself up on my elbows and meet his gaze. The corners of his mouth tip up, a sexy smirk of encouragement. Am I really considering this? Yes. Yes, I am.

“Riley, baby.” His voice stirs the desire low in my belly. “I want to watch.”

It’s the way he says my name, the soft, desperate sound of his plea, that has me nodding my head in agreement. My shoulders sag back against the pillows and I close my eyes as I drag my fingers across my panties. Not surprisingly, they’re already wet.

My touch is tentative at first, feather light, but I’m not good at teasing myself—never was—and tonight is no different. I grapple for the vibrator, thick and long, so much like Jesse that it makes me crave him even more. Knowing he is only a few feet away, watching, probably touching himself, too, turns me on even more.

One hand tugs my panties down to my ankles, the other drags the smooth tip of the toy up and down my slit. My legs are bent, feet planted on the mattress, fully exposing myself to him. I don’t dare look at Jesse, but I hear him. Each labored breath, each hiss, each growl that bolsters me on.

My index finger clicks the button and a gentle buzz fills the air. The moment the rabbit ears touch my clit, my back arches off the bed. “Oh, God,” I cry out.

Here’s the other thing I should be embarrassed about but am too turned on to care: when I get myself off with Mr. Jack Rabbit, I’m loud. Porn-star loud.

“Oh, fuck, that feels good.” I hiss, my free hand reaching up to cup my breast. I roll my nipple between my thumb and finger, imagining Jesse’s hands on me. Imagining his mouth, trailing kisses down, down, down…

A minute later I increase the speed. The ears, those tiny, torturous ears go to work on my clit, and soon I’m pumping the shaft inside me. “Fuck. Oh, fuck,” I croon, the waves cresting higher and higher. “Jesse.” My head thrashes to the side. “Oh, fuck. I’m coming. I’m coming.”

I lie there, spent. Breathing heavy, face flushed. Jesse joins me on the bed a moment later, hovering over me, his thick erection tenting his boxers.

His warm breath floats across my skin. “Did you enjoy that?”

My eyes flutter closed and I slowly nod my head. “Yes.”

“I’m glad.” His voice is assured, confident as he continues, “Because that will be the last orgasm you have without me.” His gaze penetrates mine. “All of them. Every. Single. One. Belongs to me.” His fingers snake their way up my thigh, skim across the over-sensitized flesh. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for you? I’m done sharing.”

* * *

For as much as I knew about Jesse, there were still things to learn. Some things were silly—like he never caps the tube of toothpaste—to more intimate things, like he likes morning sex. And shower sex. And dirty sex.

Really, really likes dirty sex.

Most things were pleasantly surprising, some mildly annoying. For the most part, I loved learning these things, but some new things upset me. Mostly the things having to do with Shelly, his ex-girlfriend.

Just to be clear, Jesse claims they were never officially together, but let’s be real, they hooked up for more than four months and went places together, which is the very definition of a relationship.

I know. I’m not the jealous type—usually—but Shelly’s different. With her long, blond hair and blue eyes, she’s wild and free in a way I never could be. Her persona screams sex goddess, and although Jesse never admitted it, I’m ninety-nine-point-nine percent convinced he had a threesome with her and her friend Melanie. Like I said before: sex goddess.

All of my insecurities, doubts, and fears, come to a head Thursday night. Jesse plays basketball in a recreational basketball league two nights a week. This doesn’t bother me. He’s been playing with the same team for as long as I can remember. What does bother me is the text message that I happen to see while he’s at said basketball game.

After my shower, I’m logging into the Hulu app, when Jesse’s iPad lights up with a message. My eyes latch onto the curve of the “S” then glide over the rounded shape of the “e” and before I even know what’s happening, I’m reading Jesse’s text messages to another girl. Not just any girl, but Shelly.

My lips turn down in a sneer.

Her text is innocent enough: Hi. What’s the name of the movie with Adam Sandler and Jennifer Aniston? But it makes my stomach sour nonetheless. I fight the urge to text back my immediate response: Ask Google like a fucking normal person.

I know I shouldn’t I let myself skim through their text conversation. There’s nothing suspicious or even that recent (the last message, apart from tonight, is time stamped more than a week ago), but it still infuriates me that one, he still talks to her, and two, he makes no mention of me or the fact that we’re together.

And that’s the funny thing about the human brain. Left to its own devices, it can spin crazy fantasies. My mind kaleidoscopes with thoughts, each one crossing and overlapping until nothing makes sense. I know Jesse. I trust him. I love him. But still I can’t stop the elaborate tales from filling my head. Maybe he still sees her. But when? We’re always together. Maybe he still has feelings for her. I don’t think so. Jesse claims they weren’t even officially together. Maybe they’re still friends. Kinda like how you guys are friends, Riley?

My sour mood worsens when Jesse strolls in a little after nine o’clock, happy as a clam. I’m appalled, but the injustice of it all―his stupid ex-girlfriend and her stupid texts ruined my night, while he was out having a good time with friends? My anger only intensifies.

“Hey, Ry.” He leans over the side of the sofa to kiss me. I let him, but make no attempt to kiss him back, and he notices. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” I click the buttons on the remote, not bothering to take my gaze from the television. “Just tired.”

I’m being a bitch, I know. It’s not his fault. He can’t control who texts him. But still I’m annoyed. Who does she think she is, texting Jesse? I’m upset that I had to share Jesse with Shelly in the first place. But even more than that, I’m scared. I’m terrified that this—whatever this is that Jesse and I are doing—is going to blow up and I’m going to lose him forever. And that I can’t handle, because I’ve fallen hopelessly and completely in love with my best friend.

Tears begin to form in my eyes, and I silently curse myself. What the fuck is wrong with you, Riley?

Pushing myself to stand, I say, “I’m going to bed.”

“It’s only nine o’clock.” His voice is tinged with confusion.

I shrug, and as he approaches I take a few steps back.

“What’s wrong?” He advances, like a predator stalking its prey.

“Nothing.” I sidestep around him.

“Ry?” His confused voice hits my back as I walk away. “What did I miss? Why are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad, Jes.” I pause halfway down the hall. “I’m just tired.”

His tone changes as his patience turns to annoyance. “I know when you’re mad. What the hell did I do?”

His voice is more bewildered than anything, but I’m so angry in the moment that I don’t feel any sympathy. I stalk toward him. “You want to know why I’m mad?” My voice explodes. “Why are you talking to your ex-girlfriend?” I snatch the tablet off the coffee table and hold it up as proof of his wrongdoing.

His eyebrows pull together. “You read my texts?”

“Not on purpose.” At first. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re still talking to Shelly?” I hate the person I’m becoming. Jealous and insecure. Suspicious. Controlling.

This is not who I am.

“Because I’m not talking to Shelly.” He pulls his hoodie up and over his head, and his t-shirt rises, exposing the unbelievably hard abs beneath. I try my best to avoid looking, but it’s no use. His body is amazing. “And she’s not my ex-girlfriend.”

I shake my head as though to clear it. “Whatever,” I retort. Not my most mature response, but it’s better than doing something foolish, something like kissing the hell out of him. Or begging him to take off more of his clothing. “It’s fine.”

He approaches, wraps his muscular arms around me. “Baby, you have nothing to worry about.”

I know better. I know I should pull away. But I fall for it. Of course, I do. He’s strong, so capable, so masculine, so fucking hard that I’d have to be made of stone not to be affected.

“Now.” He kisses the top of my head. “Yell at me some more.”

I pull back, lips pursed. “What? You want me to yell at you?”

“Uh-huh.” He dips his head and his lips latch onto my neck. “You’re fucking sexy as hell when you’re mad. And jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.” My breath whispers across his skin and my hands grab onto his forearms for balance.

He pulls back, chuckles. “No?”

“Nope,” I barely manage, before a moan bubbles forth as his fingers find my nipple.

“And if I told you that Shelly wants to get back together?”

“What?” I back away, my vision blurring red. “You just said you weren’t talking to her?”

His smirk, sexy and infuriating at the same time, lets me know he’s teasing. “Thought you weren’t jealous?”

“You’re such an asshole.” I stomp my foot. “An asshole that can sleep on the couch.”

I barely make it two feet before strong arms circle me from behind. “Riley Ann, you’re hot as fuck when you’re jealous.”

“I told you, I’m not jealous.” I seethe.

He nips my neck, grazes the flesh with his teeth. “Are so.” His hands drift up my rib cage over my breasts, skimming my nipples in the most delicious way.

“Stop.” I shake my head even as my back arches to bring my breasts closer to him.

He clicks his tongue. “How many times do I have to tell you? You’re the only girl I want. The only girl I’ve ever wanted.”

I snort. “Still not getting lucky tonight, Casanova.”

He spins me to face him. “Is that so?”

The look in his eye is downright dangerous. Jaw clenched tight. Strong brow creased. Nostrils flared. It’s like I’ve just thrown down the gauntlet.

I keep my voice strong. “No way.” I shrug my shoulders. “Maybe Shelly’s available.”

“Fuck Shelly.” He breathes, grip increasing on my hips.

“You already have.” The words flow in anger, and once I’ve spoken them, I realize my mistake. His eyes darken, the look alone enough to melt me on the spot.

“I. Don’t. Fucking. Want. Shelly.” His voice is venom. “I want you.” He tugs my hand and wraps it around his already hard cock. “Feel.” We both look down at our hands as he squeezes my fingers tighter. “This is all for you.” His eyes snap to mine. “Now”―he smirks again―“give me what I want.”

Oh, God, I should resist, but the way he’s looking at me, the heat emanating from his body, his words…. Why was I mad again? Still, I try to maintain my self-control even though my voice lacks any conviction when I speak. “No.”

“No?” He quirks his brow. “Fair enough.” Seconds later he rips at the frayed straps of my tank top until nothing but thin scraps of fabric lay discarded on the ground. The material hangs, exposing my bare chest to him. He looks directly in my eyes. “I’ll give you what you want.”

“Jes, what the—” But my words are cut off by the sound of my shorts being torn.

“Riley Ann.” His hands reach for my breasts. “Beautiful Riley.”

Bending his head, he sucks my nipple into his mouth, not teasing or playful, but rough and with purpose. Marking. Claiming. Owning.

“Jesse.” I cry his name as my fingers thread through his hair, pulling him closer. “Fuck, Jesse.”

He doesn’t say a word as he switches to the other breast, the stubble of his five o’clock shadow, coupled with his gentle nips, driving me crazy. My muscles spasm, causing my legs to wobble like Jell-O, and I brace one arm on the wall behind him for balance.

“Stop,” I say, desperate as he continues his assault, because holy shit I think I might fall over if he keeps this up. “Please.” My voice pleads. “You’re driving me crazy.”

He rises to his full height. “Does it feel like I want anyone else when I’m with you? When I’m touching you? When I’m inside you?” He narrows his eyes when I don’t answer. “Does it?” He brushes his thumbs over my nipples and I tremble.

“No.” My voice is soft as I cast my eyes away.

He shakes his head. “Not good enough.”

Taking both of my hands, he turns me away from him and places my palms on the wall. “Spread your legs.”

My blood whooshes, as fast and loud as a raging river. Every nerve winds tight, my whole body thrumming with anticipation when I do as he says. Turning my head, I watch over my shoulder as he drops to his knees. With a firm hand on each thigh, he spreads me wider. When he leans forward, when his tongue licks me from top to bottom, I moan. Loudly. What the fuck is he doing? This is too intimate; I’m too exposed. He’s putting his mouth on me there?

“How about now, Riley? Do I want you now?”

“Jesse.” I whine, my fingernails curling into the wall. “Oh, my God.” My voice breaks when his tongue finds me again.

He takes his time, licks me in a place that I never thought I wanted to be licked, but holy hell, it feels good, more than good. I’m soaked, dripping with need for him, and I’m painfully aware of how empty I am. How desperately I need him to fill me.

As if he could read my thoughts, he adds his fingers. Two thick fingers slide into my aching center, and my insides grip him, pulling him in deeper. “Jesus.” He curses against my thigh.

My body is lax, loose as it lies against the wall, and I’m glad for the support because there’s no way I’d be able to hold myself upright.

“Jesse, I want…” I pant, breathless, as I squeeze my eyes shut.

“What do you want, baby?” He slaps my ass cheek. Hard. “You want to come all over my cock?”

“Yes.” I scream as he drags his fingers away. Turning my head, I catch the moment when his shorts hit the floor. My eyes dart to his hands, where he’s holding himself, smoothing the first few droplets of his release over the round head. I lick my lips. God, I want to taste him.

He catches the movement, his half-lidded gaze meeting mine. One hand strokes his thick cock, slowly, languidly. “But I don’t want you, do I?” He moves closer, slides his erection along my ass. My body quivers when his hot breath hits my ear. “Do I?”

I moan in response. He can’t possibly expect me to talk. I’m incapable of intelligible speech. He’s stripped me down to the most basic, primal level, where all I can process are needs and desire. And right now, I need him.

“How about now?” He grunts as he slides into me in one smooth thrust. “Do I want you now, Riley?”

One arm bands around my waist, tugging me closer, even as his forceful thrusts threaten to push me away. His other hand wraps around my throat, his thumb resting on the erratic pulse point in my neck. His grip isn’t light, the pressure just enough to make me aware of his control. And I surrender everything to him. Willingly. “Who do I want, Riley?” he demands, his teeth scraping my ear.

“Me.” I groan, fingers curling into the cord of muscle in his forearm. When my head threatens to roll to the side, he jerks me upright, holds me firm in his grasp.

“Who have I always wanted? Who do I want fucking more than ever I thought was possible?” He slams forward, remains still, awaiting my answer. “Who do I love?”

“Me.” I scream, and when he slams his hips forward again and pinches my nipple, I shatter. My body convulses, trapped between him and the wall, tremors rolling from top to bottom. Electric zaps of pleasure course through me, so forceful that I bite his arm from the sheer intensity of it. Holy fuck. Holy fuck. Holy fuck.

Both of his hands settle on my hips and drag me back toward him. He pulls me down onto him, matching each powerful jerk of his hips. “Riley.” He groans my name. “It’s you. It’s only ever been you.”

“Jesse.” I twist in his embrace, trailing my lips along his neck. His skin is salty, slicked with sweat, yet somehow sweet, and I want to lick him all over. I want to explore every inch of his body. I want to know everything about this man. The man I love more than anyone or anything.

“Fuck, Riley.” He groans as he releases inside me, hot jets of warmth that pulse and burn and mark me from the inside out, telling me everything I need to know: I love you. You belong to me. You’re mine.

I squeeze his hands and he loosens his grip. Turning in place to face him, I bring my eyes to meet his and place my hand over his heart. “We belong to each other.”