Current day

Good luck with your interview. You’re going to nail it. I read the words, yet again, before sliding the phone back into my purse. The debate whether to reply still ping-pongs in my head. Ignoring him seems rude, but I don’t want to reopen that line of communication. It won’t lead to anywhere good.

The subway rails screech to a halt, and I raise my hand to the lapel of my blazer—to the small balloon brooch I felt compelled to wear. Don’t ask me why, but I couldn’t seem to place it back inside the jewelry box. I rub a thumb across the smooth section of gold as the gush of memories haunting my brain keeps torturing me. Up until the end, we had such good times together. Maybe I’m overthinking everything. Maybe my subconscious is telling me to reply.

Stupid bitch. My heart has been hurt enough. No good could come from this.

I grab hold of the metal pole and clutch the umbrella in my other hand as I stand, refusing to give in to my mind’s temptation. I need to concentrate on this interview, not have ten-year-old flashbacks. How am I ever going to move forward if I can’t shake loose the past? Sorry, Jax, I won’t be a repeated notch on your bedpost. No matter how attentive you were in bed or how long of a dry spell I’ve endured.

My grip tightens on the pole as warmth skims across my skin and tingles between my thighs. Seems like my subconscious isn’t the only thing being a traitorous bitch.

The gray sky finally gives in to the threatening rain as soon as I exit the subway terminal. Great. I pop open my umbrella in a feeble attempt to keep from getting wet, but the angular rain soaks my pants. Staying dry isn’t an option today. It’s my own fault; I cut the commute too short. Pressed for time, I can’t even duck into a storefront and wait out the storm. Despite my body’s protest, my feet march forward and carry me across the pavement, avoiding the quickly forming puddles.

I choke back the cry of relief when the brown-framed door with Mama Kessler’s Bakery scrolled across the glass comes within five feet. Almost there. A gust of wind howls through the street and knocks straight into me. My unavoidable yelp gets carried away when the umbrella’s metal framework bends backward. Cold rain pelts my face, each stinging drop a reminder of the year’s shitty circumstances. I quickly grab the nylon canopy and tug down, hoping the arms snap back in place. They don’t. The distorted ribs waver in the wind, but I angle the umbrella as a shield and grip the edge tighter. Forging forward, I don’t stop until the bakery’s cement approach appears underfoot. A shaky laugh escapes my mouth. Doesn’t this cap off my year?

A couple quick shakes of the umbrella do nothing to rid the excess water. The act is useless. Water drips from every available surface: my blazer, my pant legs, the umbrella, and my hair.

Oh, my hair.

My first impression will be interesting. I’m a freaking mess. While I ponder the idea of rescheduling, a loud boom jars me forward. The scent of freshly baked bread with a hint of cinnamon welcomes me as I push through the door. Cold and wetness forgotten, my chest fills with the warm reminiscence of Sunday mornings at Grammie’s house. She always made the best sticky buns. My baking skills can be attributed to her. She taught me so many things.

I inhale the delicious goodness and grab the umbrella runner to slide it down. But the blissful memory wipes away when the ribs jam and refuse to close—a reminder of my current situation. A few tugs later, I abandon the idea and lay the broken mess in the corner. Water drips to the floor and pools by my feet while I dig in my purse for a hair clip. Even if we cancel, I still need to look halfway presentable. I can’t meet my potential boss looking like a wet noodle.

Watching the rain skirt across the sidewalk, I twist my hair into a bun. When the last strand is secured into place, the tiny hairs on the back of my neck flicker to life and alert me to a presence.

“Are you sure you’re not stalking me?”

I swear I feel his presence before the richness of his voice slides across my shoulders, down my arms, and confirms my suspicion. With widened eyes, I slowly turn around.

“W-w-what are you doing here?” My breath hitches as the guy, who has wormed his way into every facet of my mind, steps closer, his large frame overshadowing me.

Jax.

The black dress shirt stretches across his strong, muscular frame. The first two buttons gap open, revealing the bronze skin that has always tantalized me. I fist my hands against my thighs to keep from reaching out to him. Dear God, he looks good. I just want to rub my palms along his pecs. I’d ask him to put the coat draped over his arms back on, but that would be a shame.

Jax certainly isn’t the same boy from our freshman year. New and improved, he’s the caramelized glaze on a sticky pecan bun. My mouth waters, and I force my gaze back to his face before I take a bite.

But the masculine jawline peppered with a hint of stubble doesn’t help.

A small dimple pops on his left cheek. Not the kind you find on baby-faced men. This one is sexy. Sultry. My insides melt as the tingling sensations from earlier flare between my thighs with a need he’s quite capable of filling. I conjure an image of his rough bristles scuffing against my sensitive skin. His tongue… Jesus, this dry spell lasted too long.

“You through?”

“Through?” I snap out of my lust-induced vision and focus on the man I’m supposed to be avoiding. “With what?”

“Whatever fantasy you have going on inside here?” He points his finger at my head and then places his hand on my shoulder.

My jaw drops, and I jerk my shoulder away from his touch. “I was not—”

“Don’t deny it because either you’re seriously stalking me, or it’s fate.” He snaps his fingers. “That’s it, the universe wants us to be together.”

“It most definitely isn’t me stalking. But fate. Really?”

“Don’t you find it rather odd that in a city with over eight million people, we bump into each other twice?”

“Yes, but—”

“Are you Ms. Kennedy?” a young girl asks, interrupting.

Jax lifts a challenging eyebrow. My gaze lingers on him momentarily before turning to the girl. I answer, with all the dignity I can muster, “Yes.”

“Mr. Kessler will be here shortly.” Her gaze drops to the pool of water collecting around my feet. “He’s a few minutes delayed due to the weather.”

“Thanks. I can certainly relate.”

“Yeah.” She glances at the floor again. “I’ll, uh, grab a mop.”

The buzz from the phone kills the awkwardness between us. As she meanders to the counter, I turn back to Jax.

“Kennedy?” he asks.

“Yeah, I took my maiden name back. Didn’t want to be Mrs. Burger any longer than I had to.”

His lips twitch, holding back the joke I know is on the tip of his tongue.

“What are you doing here?” I repeat my question, curious as to why he’s downtown.

His cocky expression morphs into discouragement, along with a hint of worry.

“I’m looking for an authentic biskvitena.” He blows out a breath. “But I'm not having any luck.”

“Biskvitena? The Bulgarian torte?”

Jax’s head tips back as he narrows his eyes. “How’d you know that?”

Crap. How would I know that without spilling the truth? Funny story. This one night my junior year, I saw you hanging all over a girl. It upset me so much I grabbed a bottle of wine and drank it in my room. I spent the entire evening looking up Bulgarian dishes. Since you’re part Bulgarian, I ended up making a list. Biskvitena was listed under dessert. Yeah, that psychotic event I’ll keep to myself.

“I like to cook, remember? Sometimes I dabble in international dishes.” I gulp as something dark and primal passes through his deep brown eyes. I get the feeling he would like me to be on the menu. “There’s a Bulgarian bakery in the Lower East Side.”

“I tried them,” he says with a grunt. “They’re closed for renovations.”

Thunder claps in the distance, but the rain lightens to a gentle sprinkle.

“Are you cold? You’re completely soaked.” He starts to hand me his jacket, but I wave him off.

“No, I’m okay,” I lie, but my curiosity piques. “Why do you need a biskvitena?”

“My grandma turns ninety Saturday. I’m not too sure how many she has left.” He shrugs and looks away, but I catch a glimpse of glossiness coating his eyes. “I wanted to surprise her with her favorite cake.”

My heart sinks to my stomach from his dejected tone. “I’m not sure if there are any other Bulgarian bakeries close by.”

“If there are, they’re not listed.” He takes a deep breath and slowly exhales. “I’m scouring every bakery in hopes someone knows the recipe or is willing to at least try.”

Guilt gnaws at my gut. The dessert isn’t difficult to make, not for me anyway, but I don’t want to get involved. Getting involved would be committing to see him again, and that’s something I don’t want to do. The girl’s laughter drifts to the front of the store, and it doesn’t appear she’ll be interrupting us anytime soon.

“How about Draco’s Bakery? They’re Greek and advertise customized cakes.”

“That was strikeout number two. Their normal bakers are on vacation, ironically to Greece. This is like the tenth bakery I’ve checked.”

Well, damn. I’ll hate myself, but his agonized expression is too much for me to handle. “I-I can make it for you.”

“Really?” A sparkle of hope flickers in his eyes, and I want to curse the warmth spreading through my body.

“I take it you’ll need it tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“Carl picks the kids up tonight, so that will be perfect.”

“You’re a lifesaver.” He steps closer and his breath hitches. I follow his gaze, which leads straight to the brooch. He opens his mouth to say something, but the girl picks this moment to interrupt.

“Ms. Kennedy.” The girl marches toward us, holding a mop. “Mr. Kessler is here. He’ll just be a few more minutes.”

“Guess that’s my cue to leave.” Jax closes the gap between us and lowers his head next to my ear. “Dixie, you may want to look in the mirror before your interview. Unless you’re putting a new spin on the goth look.”

My mouth parts. For fuck’s sake, how many times am I going to embarrass myself in front of this guy?

His chuckle vibrates across my neck, down my arm, and to my fingertips. I stand there not responding as he backs away.

“Be ready by ten tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll have it ready.”

“Thanks, but I meant you be ready.”

“What? Why?”

“You’re going with me.” He laughs at my lack of response. He turns to exit, but before he walks through the door, his voice carries back to me. “Nice pin by the way.”

I stand there, dumbfounded, wondering how the hell I got roped into making a dish for his grandma. And not only making it but meeting her as well. Watching him exit onto the sidewalk, I’m pushed into the past and all the events that lead to line item number five.

JOCELYN

October, Ten Years Prior

Professor Talbot’s monotone voice drones on, and if it weren’t for the scenery seven rows down, lecture hall would be a complete bust. My first assumptions about the class were correct—sociology hasn’t been difficult despite the workload—but sitting through the professor’s lectures are the worst. He should take a page from Food Network’s Heat Seekers and spice things up. Jax has certainly spiced up my life. But we haven’t kissed again. Not even a peck on the cheek. How is that fair? It’s been seventeen days since our hot air balloon date, and shamelessly, I admit the only thing on my mind is his mouth: the firmness of his strong lips devouring mine and his delicious tongue consuming me as if I was his lifeline. I shouldn’t conjure these images. I shouldn’t even think these thoughts. After dedicating three years to my piece-of-shit boyfriend, I promised myself not to become consumed by any male. Two months into college, my oath breaks faster than Zach’s curveball. But damn, how can I not think of anything else? Jax feels so good.

But ever since our date, Jax has bailed due to meetings with his adviser. Between the athletic department’s mandatory study sessions, ball practices, and weight-lifting workouts, we’ve barely had time to text, let alone talk.

As if reading my mind, Jax slips his phone out, and his fingers fly across the screen. He looks over his shoulder at me and grins when my cell buzzes in my pocket.

I try not to smile, but I like the fact he referenced the coffee shop as ours. I lift my head and meet his gaze. He acknowledges my nod with a wink and turns back around. I don’t miss his smile widening or the flutters taking control of my stomach.

I’m so fucked.

Part of me wants to give in to my desires while my sensible side kicks in and wonders if we should even pursue this relationship. If you can call it a relationship. We’re just dating. Nothing has been defined, but it doesn’t take an Einstein to figure out we enjoy talking to each other. And I definitely like kissing him.

“Jesus, this class is fucking boring,” Marissa complains to the girl on her left. I’m surprised it took her this long to start. Usually, halfway through the lecture, she and her friend start discussing their dates. I drown out their hushed whispers—their conversations are always the same: what party they attended and who they screwed. I really don’t need to hear the details of Marissa’s latest conquest, but when Zach’s name falls from her lips, I drift closer. My poor roommate is still hung up on him. She insists their connection’s real, but after stringing her along for weeks, he won’t have anything to do with her. She’s crushed, to say the least. Maybe Marissa is the reason behind him ghosting her.

“You were with the catcher last week and the first baseman the week before then,” her friend says.

“I told you I’m making my way around the infield. But I’ll tell you, Zach knows what he’s doing. I came three times.”

“Jesus.” Her friend sits back in her chair and sighs.

Jesus indeed. When it came to Devin’s role in the bedroom, he left every ounce of talent on the field. Sex was subpar at best, but he’s the only one I’ve been with. Bad sex is the main reason why I moved “have a mind-blowing orgasm” to the top five. I’d kill for at least one orgasm in my life, let alone three in one night.

“Exactly,” Marissa says. “He’s repeat-worthy, but he made it clear this was a one-time deal. Besides, there’re still more positions to acquire. One in particular.”

My jaw clenches as her eyes train on Jax. She knows damn well we’re…talking. What we’re doing may not be defined, but I’m damn sure not going to share him. I unknowingly did that once with a guy. I won’t let it happen again.

Is this how it is to date an athlete—women throwing themselves at them? Turning the players into a conquest? If that’s the case, I’m not sure I want to be part of that life. Is there enough trust between Jax and I to overcome this jealousy? Because right now, I want to deck Marissa’s face.

“You can’t have them all,” her friend says.

Marissa snorts right as Jax turns and raises an eyebrow at me. The hot-as-sin look he shoots me causes me to blush. My cheeks aren’t the only thing radiating heat. Marissa’s stare burns right through me.

“Looks like one is benched,” her friend murmurs. Honestly, do they not realize I can hear every word?

“Puh-leeze,” Marissa says with a laugh. “Experience always wins.”

I bristle in my seat. I’ve never been good at confrontation. When I caught my best friend with Devin, I barely stood up for myself. It happened at the end of the school year, so after yelling, I pretty much let it go. Hell, I was better off, but that didn’t lessen the sting of their actions. When it came down to it, I was more upset over losing my so-called best friend. I could’ve used our friendship that summer.

The professor’s dismissing words snap me back to the present. I snatch my backpack off the desk and beeline down the stairs to Jax.

“Hey, Dixie.” Jax’s dimple pops at his greeting. He draws me in for a hug, the palm of his hand landing on the small of my back. Marissa is all but forgotten.

That is, until a sugary voice that can hold its own against the most Southern-brewed sweet tea sings, “Hey, Jax.”

Jax’s eyebrows furrow as he glances over my shoulder. “Marissa.”

“Good game yesterday. You’re looking good on the field.”

My back stiffens from the seductive smile she directs toward him. His fingers press firmly against my flesh as he says, “Thanks.” I would shake off the little goodbye wave she gives before continuing down the stairs, but when his gaze drops to her perfectly showcased ass, every ounce of self-doubt surfaces. How can I compete against someone like that? Is she right? Do men like Jax prefer someone more experienced? If so, I’m screwed. I may not be a virgin, but I’m certainly not well versed in that area.

“You ready?” Jax asks.

I go to speak, but my voice falls short. After clearing my throat, I answer, “Yeah,” but I don’t wait on him. I turn on my heels and follow the same path as Marissa. I can’t help but wonder if he’s checking my ass out too. And if he is, do I stack up to her? I pull my jacket closed, cursing myself. This isn’t like me. Insecurity and self-doubt never cloud my thoughts to this degree. But yet it’s there as evidence of the heaviness in my chest. Once we’re outside, the crisp, fresh air fills my lungs, and I can finally breathe.

“Hey, you okay?” Jax asks as he catches up with me.

My pace slows, and I turn to face him. Up to this point, I hadn’t realized I was racing away from him. “Did you have a baseball game?” That’s my answer? A simple yes would have ended his concern, but what do I do instead? I answer with a reminder of Marissa.

“No.” He scrunches his eyebrows and tilts his head to the side. “Just a practice game.”

“Do people usually come and watch you practice?”

An understanding crosses his face as he grabs my hand and gives a slight shake. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Let girls like Marissa get under your skin.”

“It’s a little difficult.”

“Trust me. You have nothing to worry about. There are certain types of girls who go after athletes. Sort of like rock star groupies, but in baseball, they’re called cleat chasers or jersey chasers.” He lets out a humorless laugh. “I was warned, but I never believed girls like that existed. They certainly didn’t hang around my high school, so I was surprised to see they weren’t joking. But you have nothing to worry about. I’m more of a one-woman man.”

“Okay,” I say.

“We good, then?”

“We’re good.” With our fingers intertwined, we take off toward the café.

“I don’t mind the mandatory study sessions, but these practice games suck. I’m itching to play a real game, not one against teammates. It’s hard after playing competitive ball during the summer. It’s sort of like a letdown.”

The entire walk, Jax talks about his summer league team, but with a sense of urgency. He gets through with one point and delves straight into the next. By the time we reach the café, I suffer from verbal whiplash. Don’t get me wrong, we’ve had great conversations since meeting, but he’s never been this talkative. It’s almost like nervous chatter.

I slide across the vinyl seat while Jax waits to order our drinks. He slips his hands deep into his pockets and rocks back and forth on his feet. This is the first time his confident demeanor falters, and part of me worries there’s more to Marissa than he’s letting on.

He sets my coffee in front of me before he plants his six-foot-two frame across the table. I bring the warm liquid to my lips before I end up asking what the hell is wrong with him. He clears his throat, and I brace myself for the worst.

“So, my mom has been after me to pick her up a ‘Mom’ sweatshirt—you know, the ones that say Penn State Mom?”

I laugh. “Yeah, my momma wants the same thing.”

“Well—” He dips his head and reaches into his pocket. “After practice, Zach and I went to the bookstore so I could buy one. Thought I’d bring it to her during Thanksgiving break.”

I have no idea where this conversation is going. His hand is still buried in his pocket while the other fidgets with the coffee cup. I don’t understand why he’s making a big deal out of a sweatshirt.

“So, I, uh, saw something that made me think of you.”

Think of me? I keep my lips shut, not daring to interrupt. He slips a little sack out of his pocket and sets it by my drink. I eye it for a moment before flicking my gaze back to his. “You bought me a gift?”

“I know it’s a little early for gift giving, but I saw this and knew you had to have it.”

I pull the box out of the white paper bag, intrigued by what could be in it. Lifting the lid, I gasp at the shiny gold hot air balloon pendant. “Oh, this is great.”

“It’s not much, kind of small.” Jax shrugs. “I just thought it’d be a great memento for you to remember your grandma’s words and maybe me.”

Wetness coats my eyes and makes the inscription difficult to read. I bat my eyelids a few times before whispering the words. “Soar to new heights.”

“It’s not the exact quote but close enough.”

“Thank you. This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” My gaze sweeps to his. “It’s perfect.”

“You’re welcome.” His nervousness makes complete sense now. It is early in our relationship, but as his dark chocolate eyes stare back at me with his restored confidence, all of my self-doubt, all of my worry, and all the Marissas in the world take a back seat. This gesture brought a crapload of reassurance. I’ll treasure this pin forever.

“I need you to clear your schedule for the next few weekends,” he says.

“Oh, why’s that?”

“Because you’re mine, and there are more checkboxes to fill.”

JOCELYN

November, Ten Years Prior

Sweat breaks across my forehead. And not the cute little droplet kind. No, these are actual large beads of liquid trickling along the edge of my hairline. The cold breeze does nothing to squash the burning in my stomach. I squeeze Jax’s hand tighter as we approach the old English-style wooden door, and my gaze sweeps to the Greek symbols etched in the stone decor above the doorframe. A puff of air escapes my lungs at the thought of us going to a party. And not just any party, a frat party where bodies cram together in one room and reek of beer and sweat. Or so I’ve read. I actually don’t know how these parties go down, but if my nerves don’t settle soon, I’ll fit right in with the sweating part.

“You ready for this?” Jax asks.

No. I sneak another glance at the sign and gnaw my lip. These symbols represent some chapter in the Greek life, but for me, they hold a different meaning. Tonight, they mark another event I can attribute to Jax. I swear he is determined to check off everything from my list before semester’s end.

Good luck with parasailing, buddy. That thought almost wipes away my jitters. It’s the evening before Thanksgiving break. There will be no watersports happening anytime soon. Truth, I added it in case I go somewhere warm for spring break.

Jax pauses when we step onto the concrete stoop and brings my hand to his mouth. The brush of his lips causes soft tingles to spread across my skin, and I’m a bit mesmerized by his gesture.

“Don’t be nervous. These parties aren’t bad.” His face turns serious as his gaze deepens. “And for the record, I don’t consider a frat party an official date. I still owe you a good one, but this is an easy one to do. Even if it’s further down the list.”

Warmth spreads to my cheeks from his implications. It’s true. We’re skipping several numbers, including the elusive number five. He wanted me to keep the past few weeks open, but his schedule is crazy. We’ve gotten together but haven’t had a chance at a proper date. Certainly, not where we’re alone. I’ve barely gotten a kiss, let alone an orgasm.

“The list wasn’t intended to be in any particular order.” I lift my chin to him. “Why are you so determined for me to check off everything?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

I shake my head slightly.

“Because”—he draws me against him, his warm breath tickling my face—“I love seeing you smile and knowing I’m the one who put it there.”

Despite the cold, my heart melts a little, and the smile Jax admits to loving shines through. His gaze drops to my mouth, and I swear the air electrifies around us as my heart beats in anticipation. He dips his head, and I mentally picture those firm lips claiming me. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of his kisses. I part my mouth, ready to accept him fully, but laughter drifts up the sidewalk. Small groans escape us both as he backs away.

“Come on. Let’s experience number sixteen.” He nudges his chin toward the door.

Before I could ask how the hell he remembers the exact sequence of my list, he places his hand on the small of my back and guides me through the entrance. All conversation between us dies when the bass assaults my ears, the vibrations hammering against my chest. We step into a massive open area, which I assume is the house’s living room. People cram the overstuffed L-shaped couch, while others stand around engaged in conversation. To the far left, a makeshift dance floor houses some girls swinging their hips to the beat while holding their red plastic cups in the air. Other than a couple of them grinding against each other, the party seems tame. No signs of wild and crazy at all. Talk about a total letdown from every single book I’ve ever read. Is this normal or did Jax take me to a lame party?

“Where are all the people making out?” My words are barely audible, but Jax lets out a garbled choke.

With a raised eyebrow, he asks, “Why, do you want to watch?”

“No! It’s just—” I scrunch my nose at the sweet scent wafting the air. “Are they smoking cigars?”

“No. That would be weed.” He laughs. “How small is the town you grew up in?”

Okay, maybe they’re not so lame.

“I’m sure they’ve smoked their share. I’ve just never partaken.” Uneasiness washes over me at the thought of being with someone who does. “Why, do you?”

“No.” He immediately shakes his head, and the relief flooding my system surprises me. Asking a date about their drug habits never made my list. I never thought it to be an issue. “I’m not saying I’ve never tried it, but my focus is on the game. Okay, so that’s a no to drugs, but what about alcohol? Did you drink in this small town?”

His smirk puts me more at ease. He points toward a crowded den off to the side.

“Yes, I’ve had a few in my lifetime.” Very few. I wasn’t about to admit my drinking experience consisted of my cousins and I sneaking the spiked holiday punch my aunt always made. “But I always thought the kegs were kept in the kitchen.”

“You’re cute.” He laughs again. “Where did these expectations come from? Wait, let me guess, romance books?”

“Perhaps I read too much.”

“Your list was extensively long, but I suppose the keg could be in the kitchen. I just don’t think that’s standard protocol.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny.” Seriously, how does he remember my entire planner?

“Let’s ditch our coats, then we’ll get our drinks.”

We retreat from the den’s entrance and head toward the stairs on the far side of the living room. As I shimmy out of my jacket, a blond-haired hottie waltzes up with a beer in hand.

Jax and I dated practically all semester, but with the team’s busy schedule, I haven’t met his roommate-slash-teammate. Not officially anyway.

“Zach, my man.” They fist bump each other, and Jax turns to me. “This guy right here is one hell of a pitcher. The best I’ve played with. I’m so ready for the season to start.”

“Can’t wait to watch,” I say, trying to keep my tone sincere. It’s hard. My roommate whining to me about him while I’m trying to sleep keeps flitting through my mind. Zach’s grin stretches across his face, and I openly stare. I’d have to be blind not to notice what my roommate sees in him. He’s cute, but he knows it. Jax exudes confidence, almost as if he’s gotten his way his entire life, but he’s no match for this guy’s arrogance.

“Aw, I finally get to meet Jocelyn. So, you’re a big baseball fan, huh?”

“No,” I answer honestly. “Not really.”

“Ouch,” Zach says laughing. “If you’re not a cleat chaser, then what are doing with this guy?”

My jaw drops, but before I can utter my retort, Jax slaps Zach on the back. “By the time first pitch comes around, I’ll have her converted.” His wink sends flutters to my stomach. He more or less declared we’ll be together for a while. I like that. A lot.

“We’ll see how it goes.” The slight tease to my voice causes them both to laugh.

“I’ll deposit these coats and get some drinks. Be right back.” Jax takes off toward the staircase, and I watch until he dips out of sight.

“I feel like I know you already,” I tell Zach.

“Yeah? He talks about me all the time like he does you?”

I rear back, not quite expecting that reply. “Uh, no. I mean, my roommate has talked about you.”

“Ah, yeah. Cassie.”

Honestly, I’m surprised he remembers her name. I picture him as a smash-and-dash kind of guy, never bothering with identifiers. Since Cassie and he never had sex, she’s even more forgettable.

“Yeah, she says you’re avoiding her.”

“Sort of, yeah.” He grimaces but holds my gaze. “I sense some judgment in that tone.”

“Me? Never. Okay, maybe some.” I shift my feet as the sudden warmth in my chest threatens to engulf my entire body. Confrontations aren’t my strong suit, but I started this conversation; there’s no backing down now. “I don’t get the whole lead them on for sex, then dump them afterward.”

“One, I never bagged her. And two, the reason she’s benched is because she wants more than I’m willing to give. I’m not like Jax; I have to stay focused on the game. I can’t afford distractions.”

“And a girlfriend is too distracting?”

“Definitely. That’s why I instituted the no-dating policy. When I explained this to Cassie, I could tell she wasn’t going to be all right with one night—hence the avoidance.”

“Fair enough. I appreciate your honesty.” Cassie’s version differs slightly, but I’m not surprised. Her drama queen behavior is what keeps us from becoming close. I’ve never been one for drama, and I avoid those types of people. Jax slips by us and makes a drinking gesture with his hand. I nod, but as he walks toward the den, I ponder Zach’s words. His reasoning makes sense, no matter how unsettling it makes me feel. “Do you think I’m a distraction?”

His hesitation tells me my answer.

“Look, Jax and I are different,” he finally says. “We may have the same goals, but he’s better equipped than me. Less baggage. I have too much riding on this.”

I’m not sure how to process that information, but I can see Zach’s point. Maybe he isn’t as awful as the picture I’ve painted of him. My face softens as I eye him. I open my mouth to respond but quickly close it when a brunette, wearing fewer clothes than the weather permits, sidles next to him. The way his interest piques, I believe our conversation is over.

Feeling a tad uncomfortable while Zach works his magic, I scan the room in search of my date. Jax should have been back with the drinks by now. The den isn’t that far. I step from the seductive act beside me and head to the designated keg room. More people have filled the living room in the past half hour, and I have to weave through a few groups. Stepping around the corner opening, I come to an abrupt halt when my gaze falls upon the reason for Jax’s delay. A tall blonde with the agenda of screwing my man stands in front of him. I don’t need to see the vixen’s face to know who she is. Marissa has a certain stance about her I’d recognize anywhere.

They’re just talking, and I have every right to interrupt, but the connection between my brain and feet misfires because I stand frozen. Marissa places her hand on his biceps, and the neckline of her plunging V-neck exposes more of her full-sized breasts. Holding a beer in each hand, Jax’s gaze dips down and lingers before he raises it back up to her face. I can almost see her smirk as she shifts and leans against Jax’s chest. His jaw clenches, and whether he’s enjoying copping a feel or not, he doesn’t back away. Fuck this. I let out a disgusted sound and turn around. Leaving is all I care about. As I head to the door, her previous words flit through my mind. Experience always wins. If experience is what he wants, then he can have it.

I move swiftly through the room, not paying attention to who I’m brushing by. I push past a couple of girls forming a small circle by the breezeway and step out into the brisk air. A shiver ripples through me, and I curse the fact my coat is MIA. Despite the twenty-degree temperature drop, I’m not going back inside to find it. I wrap my arms around my chest as I breathe in the air. What am I doing? I told myself no athletes. Football, baseball, they’re all the same. I knew better.

“Hey, are you okay?” a deep voice calls out, but it’s the wrong voice.

“I’m f-f-fine,” I stutter, my lips shivering.

“Here, you’re freezing.” Zach lifts his hoodie above his head, his undershirt lifting and exposing a sliver of his abs. His rather sculpted abs. Holy shit, he’s built.

“Thanks,” I say as I take the sweatshirt from him and try not to think of the multiple orgasms he gave Marissa. Marissa. Stupid bitch. I can’t even get one unless I do it to myself. Now she’s throwing herself on the one guy I have a chance with.

“Want to talk about it?”

My less-than-stellar sexual encounters? No thank you.

“Jocelyn?” Jax yells, but I don’t answer.

Zach looks from Jax to me, then back to Jax, his face growing tight. “Over here.”

“Traitor,” I mumble under my breath.

“Hey, whatever he did, I’m sure there’s a reason. Hear my boy out.”

“Jocelyn,” Jax says, nodding at Zach. “What you saw back there wasn’t what—”

“It’s not what…what it looks like? Spare me the words. I’ve heard them before.”

“God, no. It’s definitely not what it looked like.”

“Really, because you looked pretty cozy with her breast nuzzled against your chest.”

Both men wince. “I’m going to let you guys hash this out.” The disapproving scowl Zach throws toward Jax raises my respect for him another notch.

When Zach is out of hearing range, Jax speaks, “Admittedly, I didn’t handle that well.”

I spin on my heels and let my feet carry me away. I have no idea where I’m going, but walking back to the dorm hasn’t been ruled out. I just wished I could’ve grabbed my coat. It’s one of my favorites.

“I’m not like Zach, okay. I’m not used to this attention.”

“Pfft. Don’t let me bog down your playboy-ism.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Despite the distress masking his irritation, I press forward.

“Jocelyn, listen to me.” When a few more plea attempts go unanswered, he says, “Jocelyn, stop.”

I halt and ignore the strange things his deep, authoritative voice does to my insides. My pulse quickens as he positions himself behind me and places his hands on each arm. No matter how hard I fight it, my eyes close, succumbing to his touch. His presence. I don’t want him to feel this good.

“I’m sorry.” The thrum of his voice vibrates against my ear, further weakening my resolve. “But every time I tried saying something, Nana’s voice played in my head. It’s hard being rude when you’re raised to respect women. Believe me when I tell you that girl means nothing to me. She wasn’t taking any of my hints, and I didn’t know what to say to get rid of her.”

“Did you tell her you were dating someone?”

“No, I—”

“That’s a good place to start.”

“You’re right. I should’ve said that.”

The wind whips my hair into his face and sends a chill through my entire body. I wrap my arms tighter around myself, protecting myself from more than the cold. Damn it. Am I always going to be suspicious and overreact now? He was just standing there. So what if he looked at her cleavage? I just scoped out Zach’s abs.

“Come here.” He grabs my hand and pulls me to a small brick outbuilding about twenty feet away tucked within the pine trees lining the property’s grounds. Once we reach the building, he jiggles the handle, and the door creeps open, the hinges screaming in desperation for oil. I follow behind Jax as his unanswered hello gives the clearance to enter. It’s dark and a little spooky; no way am I going first.

Cobwebs line the corners of the plate glass windows. A metal-framed army cot sits underneath against the wall. Not ideal but better than nothing.

“Doesn’t look too comfy, but at least we’re out of the wind,” Jax says as we edge our way to the bed. The canvas material dips as he sits and pulls me beside him. Silvery moonlight filters through the panes and highlights his masculine jaw. Eyes too dark to determine their color zero in on mine. I squirm, the consequences of my actions weighing me down. Embarrassing or not, he deserves an explanation for my abhorrent behavior.

“I caught my ex-boyfriend with my best friend. I may have a few trust issues.”

“Double betrayal. That had to hurt.” Concern lines crinkle his forehead, and the tiny tick of his jaw makes me wonder if he’s aware of how I feel.

“It was supposed to be a surprise—my being there in his bedroom—but we all know how surprises turn out.” I shake my head and laugh humorlessly. “Mom and I were going out of town for the weekend, but Grammie fell ill, so we canceled. It was a Friday night. I knew his parents were gone for the weekend and figured he’d be out with friends. My unanswered call pretty much confirmed it. Thought I’d be sly. I went to his house, retrieved the hide-a-key from the bottom of the fake welcome rock, and let myself in.

“I remember feeling almost giddy. We dated for three years, so this wasn’t the first time I’d let myself in. I wasn’t even quiet as I made my way to his bedroom. In fact, the neighbors could probably hear my high heels clicking against the hardwood floors. But as soon as I hit the stairs, I heard moans.”

“You don’t have to go on,” Jax interrupts and runs his hand along my back. The reassurance is nice, but I need to get this off my chest. I never told anyone what happened that night.

I blow out a breath and continue. “Yeah, surprises never work. I ran up the stairs and marched straight to his bedroom with every intent on giving him and his partner a piece of my mind. Instead, I swallowed my gasp as I saw my best friend, spread eagle, with my boyfriend pounding into her.”

Jax draws me into his chest, his scent awakening every nerve ending. “I’m sorry your ex is a dick, but I’m not him. I would never cheat on you.”

I want to believe him. I really do, but I can’t seem to let my guard down. Not fully, anyway.

“Did you have a girlfriend in high school?”

“For two years.”

I look back up and meet his gaze. He surely had feelings for her after two years of dating. Maybe the same thing happened to him? “Why did you split?”

“We just separated ways.” His shrug doesn’t convey whether he’s upset over their breakup or not. “She went upstate to Cornell. Obviously, I went here. Lauren’s a great girl, but we didn’t have a future together. Things just ended between us after graduation.”

“And you’re okay with starting another relationship? I won’t be a distraction?” I have to ask. The last thing I want is to get in the way. His eyes widen with the realization of why I’m asking.

“You don’t need to worry. I know what I want, Dixie.” Jax runs his thumb along the side of my face while wrapping his fingers around the back of my head. He leans forward and pulls me closer.

“What do you want?” I ask, my voice an octave above a whisper.

“I want to spend every spare minute getting to know you better. I want my ears filled with that cute little accent of yours.” His thumb traces across my lips as the deepness of his voice slides across my skin. “I want to own every pleasurable moan that escapes your mouth. Believe me, when we’re done, you won’t be questioning anything again.”

Holy hell.

The area between my legs flares with need that’s long overdue. The chill of the air fades into the distance as deep, soulful eyes focus entirely on me.

Tired of waiting for the right moment, I make the boldest move of my life despite my pounding heart. I shift slightly and plant my lips on his. He lets out a surprised moan as his hands hesitate before finding their way to my waist and pulling me flush against his rock-hard body. His mouth, eager to respond, takes over and controls the tempo. I savor the moment as heat continues to pool below. I want this tonight. I want this with Jax.

My hands fly to his pants as I try to unbutton them.

“Whoa, slow down.” He fends off my hands but continues to pepper me with gentle, openmouthed kisses, along my jaw, along my neck. “Our first time together isn’t going to be in a dusty garden shed. You’re worth way more than that, no matter how badly I want you.”

He shakes his head at my whimper of protest and continues his intimate assault. “Besides, we leave for home tomorrow. I much prefer to spend the next day together.”

His gesture is touching, noble even, but I don’t think I’ll last another week waiting. “But I want to know how it feels to have you inside me instead of having to imagine it when I touch myself.”

“Fuck, you masturbate to the thought of me?” He tips his head back. “No, don’t answer that. I think I’ll come in my pants with that visual.”

“Jax.” His name comes out in a plea. Without the risk of sounding desperate, I throw all dignity aside and go for the final charge. “You have no idea how wet I am for you.”

“Jesus, Dixie.” His low sexy growl fuels my desire. My need. And the next thing I know, I’m lying on my back with him hovering above me. “I’m not fucking you tonight. Not here. Not like this.”

I start to protest, but he places a finger over my mouth.

“I want our first time to be memorable, but I can take care of your problem.” He lowers his lips to mine and slides his fingers across the waistband of my jeans until he finds the metallic button. He breaks the kiss, backing away while my jeans free under his control. The passion in his stare holds me captive as I lift off the bed. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, please.” My undies drag along with the jeans, and once he clears my hips, a sudden onset of flutters take flight in my stomach. Goose bumps prickle my skin, part from cold, part from nerves. This is the first time Jax has seen me half naked, and I’m not sure if he’ll approve. Before I chicken out and change my mind, his sharp intake of breath eases any self-deprecating thoughts.

“You’re more gorgeous than I imagined.” His gaze darkens as he stares openmouthed at my offering. I watch the rise and fall of his Adam’s apple before those gorgeous eyes meet mine. I start to lift the borrowed sweatshirt off, but Jax’s hand blocks my arm. “It’s too cold. Any shivering will be from my tongue as I lick your sweet pussy.”

He renders me speechless. For some reason, I didn’t realize how he had planned on taking care of my problem. I don’t have time to tell him no one has ever done this to me, because less than a second later, his mouth engulfs mine, tongue pushing inside.

His hand skims across my stomach and sneaks underneath my shirt, crawling, inching upward until meeting my breast. I feel his lips curve into a smile when his thumb brushes across the front hook closure.

“Mmm, I like this.” His voice resonates deep inside me. With a quick flick of his fingers, my bra unsnaps, my breast spilling into the palm of his hand. His thumb skims across my nipple that puckers tighter. “I like it a lot.”

My heart races as throbbing sensations shoot straight between my legs. He breaks away from me and stares deep into my eyes.

“Are you sure you want this?”

“I want more.”

“In time, impatient one. In time.” His weight shifts, and he slips his body in between my legs.

“No one’s ever… I-I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“Just relax, Dixie. You don’t have to do anything but enjoy.” He raises my shirt just enough to wrap his lips around my taut nipple. I practically convulse off the bed from the slight nibble he gives before flicking his tongue. The rough texture of his hand skims along my stomach down between my legs.

Hypersensitive to his touch, I break out in goose bumps as he works his fingers between my folds and slips one inside my channel.

“Jesus, you’re wet.”

I know. I answer with a moan because words don’t seem to formulate. Instead, this satisfying fullness from his finger takes over. If his finger alone feels this good, I can’t imagine the sensations his dick will cause.

He brings his lips back to my skin while working his finger back and forth in a teasingly slow motion. I squirm underneath him, my body begging for more. As if he senses my need, his free hand cups my breast, and he rolls my hardened peak between his fingers, giving a slight tug. A sharp twinge of desire bolts through me, and I buck off the bed.

“Jesus, you’re so ready.” He plants soft kisses along my bare skin until he reaches my pelvis. His tongue brushes ever so lightly across the bundle of nerves that have been screaming for his touch.

“Oh, yeah.” I let out another pleasurable moan as his hand abandons my breast, and he scoots lower. He pumps his fingers faster as he reaches around and opens my thighs wider.

“Damn, you look beautiful spread opened for me. I have to fucking taste you.” His tongue replaces his fingers, and I swear the guttural sound he emits brings me closer to the edge.

He runs his tongue up my center and circles around my clit, barely sweeping over before licking his way back to my core. My body writhes beneath him, tension building inside to the point I can’t take anymore.

“Jax, I need—” I gasp out a moan.

“What do you need?” He slips two fingers inside my opening but moves at an excruciatingly slow pace. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want to come.” I let out a breathy sigh. “Please.”

His lips capture my clit and suckle my flesh as he drives his fingers faster, harder. My hands fist the side of the cot as my entire body goes into a state of frenzy. White dots cloud my vision right before pleasurable waves spread through my entire body. I ride my orgasm out under his mouth. He continues to lap up my wetness until the last convulsion works through.

“That was”—I pant, catching my breath—“way better than I imagined.”

He lifts onto his elbows and smiles. “Will that hold you over?”

“Yeah, for now.”

He laughs. “Fair enough.” When he crawls up the bed, I snuggle against his chest. His arms wrap around me, and I revel in the fast pace of his heart. When my breathing evens to normal, I rub my palm against his hard length, and oh, sweet Jesus, he’s huge.

His hand clamps over mine and adds distance. “You better not do that, Dixie.”

“But I want to take care of you. It’s only right.”

“We’ll have time for that when we come back.” He plants a soft kiss on my forehead and traces circles on my skin. “Think about me during break when you’re alone in your bed at night. If you still want me when we come back, I’ll be more than happy to oblige.”