Sunlight hit my closed eyelids. I grunted and rolled over. An odd whooshing sound hit my ears. Grumbling, I rubbed at my eyes.

Mornings. I hated mornings. I was always groggy and half-asleep until I had my first cup of coffee.

Moving on autopilot, the only way I knew how to function before ten a.m., I slid on my glasses, grabbed my toiletry kit from the dresser and lumbered toward the bathroom.

My sleep-fogged brain didn't register what the whooshing sound had been until I'd already pushed the bathroom door open a crack.

My mind immediately snapped into wakefulness at the sight of a naked body.

August's naked body.

My eyes roved over every inch, mouth gaping open.

It was blurry, hidden behind a frosted glass shower door. I could still make out his tall form, the lines of his arms and legs, his wide chest and slim hips. He was exquisite.

August made a low sound in the back of his throat.

I came back to myself with a start. I snapped my jaw shut.

No. There was no way I was going to stand here ogling August's naked body, as indistinct as it may be. He hadn't yet realized I was standing in the doorway. I could still get away without causing an embarrassing scene.

August grunted again. His head was bowed, one hand against the shower door. I caught the motion of his other hand, sliding up and down, his fingers curled around—

I swallowed a squeak.

Oh my god.

The size of him was… breathtaking. Literally breathtaking. My body instantly responded, breathing turning shallow, as if I couldn't get enough air into my lungs. My belly tightened. My inner muscles quivered.

He let out a quiet curse. I stood frozen as his hand sped up. Faster and faster it went, muffled sounds leaving his lips. With a final choked sigh, his hand stopped.

Without thinking, I whirled around and ran to the other side of the hotel room, heart pounding, fingers trembling. I dithered and paced and wrung my hands together.

I'd just walked in on August…

I couldn't even think the words. It was mortifying and fascinating and hot as hell, and god, how I wanted to open the door and climb in there with him.

The shower turned off.

I hastily threw on my oversized shirt from the day before to cover myself. I was still only in my tank top and panties. I pressed my hands to my flushed cheeks. I had to cool down before he walked out and saw me this flustered.

I'd just barely got my breathing under control when the bathroom door fully opened.

With my back turned, I pretended to sort through the items in my suitcase.

"You're awake."

"Just woke up," I lied, trying to keep my voice steady, lest I betray myself. "You done with the bathroom?"

"All yours."

I ducked my head and avoided his eyes as I brushed past him in the narrow hotel room hallway.

August caught my hand, halting me.

My breath hitched, flush immediately returning to my cheeks. The touch of fingers against my inner wrist had sparks flying through me. No doubt he felt my racing pulse.

I stared at the bathroom door, half of me longing for escape and half of me hoping he would never let go.

The door. My stomach dropped.

I'd forgotten to close it before I fled.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I waited long moments for him to say something. The silence was heavy.

He let go of my arm.

"I hung up my towel to dry," was all he said. "You can use the ones still folded on the shelf."

"Right," I croaked. "Thanks."

I dashed into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind me.

Clinging to the counter, I stared at myself in the mirror, brown eyes wide and frazzled.

His scent clung to the steamy air. I breathed it in unwittingly. It didn't help calm me down. If anything, it fanned the flames higher.

He knew I'd walked in on him. He had to have known.

Moaning in despair, I banged my head against the mirror.

My only small consolation was that he didn't know how long I'd stood there gaping at him.

After chastising myself, I turned my focus towards getting ready for the day. He hadn't said anything. Maybe I could get through this without dying of humiliation.

When I was freshly showered and dressed, I peeked out the bathroom door. August was sitting on one of the living room area armchairs, a book in hand. He looked up when I stepped out.

"Have you got everything packed?" he asked.

"Just about."

I held my breath. He didn't say anything else. I let it out, relieved, and went about putting my things back in my suitcase.

I was concentrating on folding my extra shirts, trying to ignore August's presence in the room. I jumped with a start when his large palm came to rest on the small of my back.

"Did you make a note in your app?" he asked.

Every muscle locked up. I clenched my shirt in my hands.

"What do you mean?" I stammered.

He leaned down, lips touching my ear.

"When you walked in on me showering. Did you make a note of what you felt?"

The amusement in his voice made me tremble with embarrassment. The heated undertones made me tremble for an entirely different reason.

"I'm sorry," I let out a shaky breath. "I was half asleep and didn't realize you were in there and I didn't see anything, I swear."

August shifted until he was in front of me. I lowered my gaze.

"It's alright if you did." A wicked delight colored his tone. "I wouldn't have minded at all."

"You wouldn't have minded a total stranger walking in on you naked while you—?"

I cut myself off with a squeak, a hand clapping over my mouth automatically.

"You're not a stranger."

With a gentle finger under my chin, he lifted my head up, the way he had the previous night.

"You're Cassie Blake. You're a lovely young women who I've gotten to know quite well. You're a woman I'd like to get to know even more of."

"Walking in on someone naked really isn't the way most people get to know each other."

"Shall we start with the basics, then?"

"Basics?"

August went to sit on the edge of the nearest bed, letting me recover from his close proximity.

"My name is August Summers. I'm the drummer for Darkest Days. My favorite color is red. My favorite food is sour candy. My favorite book is The Giver by Lois Lowry. I like cats more than dogs."

He raised an eyebrow and gestured to me. "Your turn."

"You really want to know all that stuff?"

He smirked. "I could probably use my psychic powers and guess, but it's more fun if you tell me."

I took in a breath to steady myself. I gripped the dresser behind me, leaning against it for support.

"I'm Cassie Blake. I'm a photographer. My favorite color is purple. My favorite foods are a toss up between pasta and sushi." I had to think hard about the book question, going silent for long moments, before giving up with a shrug. "I have too many favorite books to name one, but I like Urban Fantasy. I also like cats more than dogs. My family has a cat named Fluffy. She's white with blue eyes and deaf. She still lives with my parents but she's getting old."

"My family never had a cat," August said. "My mom was allergic. I always thought it'd be nice to have one now that I'm an adult, but I'm on the road too much to take care of an animal."

"You could get some fish," I said with a small smile. "I always wanted a fish tank full of colorful exotic fish."

"I thought you liked sushi. Don't you feel bad about eating those poor fish?"

I made a face. "Thanks. Now I'm going to feel guilty every time I walk into a Japanese restaurant."

We shared a laugh.

"What about your favorite movie?" I asked, getting into the game.

"I'm not really a movie person. I mostly choose movies to watch based on their dramatic, epic scores."

"I get that. My favorite is The Sound of Music, mostly because of the songs, too."

"Why did you choose photography and not music?"

"It's raw," I said simply. "It's real. Tangible. A photo captures a moment in time that will never be repeated. If you don't record it, it's gone forever. I like the idea of making those moments real. Making them last forever."

I realized I'd started talking faster and faster, gesturing with my hands. I never talked like this about my work. I'd never really expressed why I liked photography to anyone else. I felt like maybe August would understand.

"I get that," he said. "Wanting to capture a moment, a feeling. I feel that way about my music." He paused thoughtfully for a moment. "Was it hard for you, leaving home to go to college?" he asked eventually.

Now that the conversation had moved to a serious place, I supposed he was going to start to asking more intimate questions. I was okay with that. I wanted him to know more about me, wanted to tell him something about myself before he guessed.

"It was, at first. I always got along with my parents. I only got in trouble a few times when I got caught breaking into buildings or trespassing and the cops brought me home." I knew better than to ask about his parents. They had died before he was old enough to consider leaving home. "What about you? Was moving out of your uncle's home and living on your own hard?"

"Not really. I was always working, or traveling, or touring."

"I can't imagine being on the road for half my life."

"Is there anything in particular you don't like about touring?" he asked. "Anything we might be able to change?"

"Just the car sickness," I said. "And there's nothing you can do about that. It's getting better though. And you? What do you hate about touring?"

"Nothing," he said immediately. "The only thing better than being tour on is being in the recording studio." He stood from the bed and came to stand next to me again. I met his eyes, warm and kind. "I'm going to ask you one more question. And I want you to answer honestly."

I nodded, suddenly nervous.

"Was last night too much for you?" he asked.

My mind flooded with images of the night before. The sight of August half-naked. The taste of his skin. His lips so close to mine.

"Can't you tell by reading my mind?" I asked, not ready to answer.

"Not this time. This time I want you to tell me. Was it too much?" he repeated patiently.

"No," I whispered. "It wasn't too much."

"I never want you to feel like I'm pushing you too hard. I know this is all new to you."

"It is," I admitted. "But… I like it."

I like you, came the unbidden thought.

I'd never liked anyone. Not in that way. August was the first.

The feelings I had for him were scary, and intimate, and hard to wrap my head around.

He examined me closely, ducking his head slightly to look into my eyes. He was so tall I had to tip my head back.

I wondered if my thoughts were written all over my face. I couldn't hold his gaze. I lowered my eyes.

He took a step back. "It's getting late. The guys will probably be getting up soon." He smirked. "I should probably sneak out before they see me leave your bedroom and start getting ideas about us."

I let out a nervous bark of a laugh. I didn't want to imagine the kind of teasing we'd endure if the guys got the wrong idea about us. Cameron would no doubt love to make life hell for us.

That thought gave me pause.

Would it be the wrong idea?

Were August and I together?

We'd shared intimate moments. He seemed to like flirting with me just enough to set me off balance. But he'd said nothing about an actual relationship. Besides, even if he did bring up the subject, I wasn't sure I was ready for that the kind of conversation. Not yet.

But I did know one thing.

I wouldn't say no if August wanted to kiss me again.