This man drives me insane.

My hormones insane.

My mind insane.

We’re halfway through our hot dogs when I hear a female voice to my left. “Callan!” a woman calls breathlessly.

I wipe my mouth with my napkin as she comes over and Callan sort of boredly watches her. “Olivia,” he says, introducing me.

“Oh, hi.” The woman looks crestfallen all of a sudden, quickly glancing back at him and pasting a smile on her face. “My favorite person in the world! We were going to see you at your polo match in two weeks.”

“I’ll see you there, then.”

The girl is so beautiful, with long black hair and eyes. She waits to see if he says something else then, but he doesn’t.

I run my hands over my uniform, suddenly self-conscious.

“Well . . . bye.” She heads back over to her friend.

I stay quiet and we finish our hot dogs.

I know that if he wanted her, he could have her. Like, right here and now. And it gives me a little pang of jealousy and an urge to erase our night of sex from my memory.

“Do you always get everything you want?” I ask him.

“Everything.” He tosses his napkin into the trash, and then does the same with mine. I expect him to say goodbye, but soon we’re just walking.

“I know what you’re thinking. That I’m being foolish and that I should take the job, but it’s best if I stay where I am. I like it where I am.”

“That’s not what I’m thinking.”

We stop walking.

He slips his hand into my hair. “Tell me to kiss you, Livvy.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

“I have.”

“In that case, I haven’t.” He strokes a finger down my jaw. “So. How about you kiss me. For my sake.”

“Come on. You get kissed all the time, I’m sure.”

“Not by you, not nearly enough.”

I exhale, leaning against the building behind me for support. We’re kind of secluded, at the entrance to an alley. People are passing by on the street, oblivious to us.

“So how about you kiss me like you did that night.” He tugs my chin up. “Or let me kiss you like I did that night.”

“You kissed me all over.”

“Then at least let me kiss those intoxicating lips of yours. For now.”

I blink, and I start to shake my head from side to side in no, but it’s also bobbing up and down in yes.

He smiles slowly, seductively, and pulls me to him by the back of the head and suddenly his eyes are darkening.

He smells warm and male and strong.

He leans down. His mouth devours mine softly. I feel his fingers slip into mine as he drags me closer and deeper into the alley. His warm hand slides up my left cheek, and we don’t speak, only kiss.

He leans his head and I go up on tiptoe, confused and afraid and still unable to resist him.

His tongue flicks at my lips and then past them, touching mine.

It’s wet and warm, gentle and exploratory.

My fingers dig into his shoulders and his hands press me closer.

I’m panting and aching between my legs, rocking my hips slightly to his. It’s like my body is begging and he grabs my hips and holds me against him, where he’s hard, and grinds us as he gives me another kiss, giving me just a hint of what could be.

Another kiss, this one more sensual, more carnal.

His fingers spread on my cheek as he tips up my face, and his other hand closes around a handful of my hair as he sucks on my tongue.

My heart pounds against my chest, and through the soft cotton of his shirt pressed against my thin satin top, I think I feel his heart too.

We ease apart. His eyes close. I tip my head as our foreheads somehow touch.

I can still taste him in my mouth. It’s difficult to pry my eyes open and meet his gaze, but when I do, he’s looking down at me with eyes that look very male.

He uses his thumb to tip my head up a notch and force me to hold his gaze. His voice sounds like sand on velvet. “Are you okay with this?”

His textured voice.

His piercing stare.

I want Callan so much, I have to curl my fingers into my palms to keep them from plunging into that wind-blown hair, pulling his head down to mine, touching his lips again, feeling him taste me with all that lusty hunger again.

I laugh nervously.

One second I’m laughing, the next my breath stops as his lips brush over mine again. “Say you’re okay with this.”

I gasp, the lightning-bolt feeling of his kiss coming back. And his hand slides from my cheek to grip my hair again, while his other hand joins it on my scalp, holding me in place as he angles his head and parts my lips open for him. He does it firmly, hungrily, as if he can’t control himself, as if he needs this for some reason.

All I’m aware of is the slick heat of his mouth, the rush in my blood as I move my mouth just as fast as he does. My hands slide into his hair, gripping, and he groans as if he likes the response. Callan’s groan makes me ache in places.

He cups my face in his warm hands as he peels his lips away, breathing harshly. “Say it, Olivia. That you want my kiss all over, under this,” he tugs my top, “below your waist . . .”

I’m dizzy. He makes it so hard to think straight and even harder to make me even want to try to pull away. His arms feel so amazingly, incredibly good as he slides them to my waist, keeping us flush.

“Flirting is just not convenient,” I pant.

“I agree it’s not.” He grins with his lips and with his eyes. “Kissing is really, really pushing it.”