I look at the frame. “The couple?”

“Yeah.”

“Probably the day of the photo shoot...” I trail off, not wanting to upset her.

She nudges my side and pulls on my elbow until my arm settles on her leg. “Come on, Ky. Just play along. Please?”

“Fine.” I look back at the picture. “He probably walked into his apartment building and saw her kicking the shit out of the mailboxes.”

She cackles with laughter. “And it turned out that they live opposite each other,” she muses.

“And he thought she was smokin’ hot, so he brought over pizza.”

“After he unintentionally made her feel like an idiot for not knowing about the maintenance guy when she locked herself out.”

“Yeah,” I say, amusement leaving my voice. “But he was hoping the pizza made up for all of that.”

“Not the pizza,” she says, all playfulness gone, “but the message behind it.”

“So the girl knew he was interested in getting to know her better?”

She’s quiet a beat. “No. Not at the pizza stage, but then he gave her a yellow rose—a symbol of friendship—and after that—she kind of knew.”

“Well, I’m glad they were on the same page,” I say, now watching her.

She smiles, but her eyes remain on the frame. “And then what happened?”

“Then I guess the guy was just happy because he figured the girl missed him when he wasn’t around. For some reason, she always wanted to be around him. And I’m pretty sure that made him feel like the luckiest guy in the world.”

She holds my arm tighter. “Yeah? I think it might be the other way around. I think that maybe the girl’s lucky. After all, he did name a flower after her.”

“So what happened after?”

Her smile falls, along with her gaze. “They kissed.”

“And it was bad?”

She finally turns to me, shaking her head. “Not for her.”

“Not for him, either, Maddy.”

She rests her head on my shoulder, her exhales warming my neck. Then I feel it—her lips on my skin. I tense beneath her touch. She kisses me once, soft and wet. She whispers, “It’s just a story, Ky. It could be fake.”

I pull back slightly and rest my forehead on hers. My heart’s pounding again, way too hard, way too fast. I can barely speak. Still, I say, “Is it, though? Fake?”

She doesn’t respond with words; she doesn’t have to. Her lips find mine—gentle at first. Then all at once, we lose the control we’ve been holding on to for days.

We stop resisting and we give in—to each other and to the inevitable.

My mouth covers hers as she presses on my chest, pushing me until I’m on my back. Our breaths mingle, and our hands are everywhere at once. Our lips lock, only parting long enough to gasp for breath, and then we’re back, kissing, touching, groping. She’s on top of me now, a leg on either side. She’s grinding; I’m thrusting. She’s moaning; I’m groaning.

But we’re synced.

In.

Every.

Single.

Possible.

Way.

My hand finds the bottom of her dress, my fingers curling around the soft material. Once my hands make their way to her ass, she emits the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard in my entire goddamn life. I curse into her mouth, feeling my cock throb in the confines of my jeans.

Her fingers lace in my hair, gripping lightly as she grinds harder into me. Her movements—her sounds—all of it pushes me to the edge of explosion.

I pull back just in time. “Maddy.”

Her eyes snap open. They’re huge. “Huh?” She looks so damn confused.

“I want more. Of you. Of us. Of all of this.” I swallow nervously, trying to catch my breath. She stays silent while I anticipate her response.

Each second I wait my confidence fades.

She nods slowly. “Okay,” she whispers.

“Okay?”

She nods slowly, but she looks unsure. “So you want sex?”

I shake my head. “I don’t just want you physically, Maddy. I don’t just want your body. I want all of you.”

“Okay,” she whimpers.

I reach up and pull her mouth back to mine, kissing her gently. She lets out a sob, completely confusing me.

Her hot and cold, her sweet innocence...and then her complete and utter lust—it fucks with my head.

And then it hits me...

“Madison?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you a virgin?”

She shakes her head.

My heart thumps faster, not from excitement, but from fear. I ask, even though I don’t know that I want the answer. “Did someone force—”

“No,” she cuts in quickly.

I exhale, relieved.

“I just...” she trails off and sits up, biting her lip. She runs a hand down my stomach, past my waist and skims the bulge in my pants. Her eyes lift to mine. Then she stands up and grabs my hand, helping me up. She leads me to her bedroom, closes the door behind her, and then moves to her nightstand and switches on the lamp. I sit on her bed, watching as she slips off her sweater. Then she stands in front of me, her legs between mine. I reach out, cup the back of her knees and pull her forward. She places her hands on my face, tilting my head up to look at her. “I want you too,” she says. “I’m just not ready to give you all of me. Not yet.”