As I stood stiff as a statue, she walked up and hugged me. “Hey, Will.” I felt the press of her very pregnant belly against my stomach and she laughed, whispering, “Hug me, silly.”

I relaxed, wrapping my arms around her. “Hey yourself. I think it’s safe to say congratulations are in order?”

She stepped back, rubbing her stomach and smiling. “Thanks.” Amusement twinkled in her eyes and I remembered that Hanna had called her after our fight, and that Liv probably knew exactly what was going on with me and her little sister.

My stomach twisted back into a knot, but I pushed past it, forcing the weekend to not be peculiar on every level. “Are we expecting a boy or a girl?”

“It’s going to be a surprise,” she said. “Rob wants to know, but I don’t. And so that means, of course, that I win.” Laughing, she moved to the side to let her husband shake my hand.

We shared a few more pleasantries in the foyer; Hanna updated her mother and Liv on the latest news from graduate school, Rob and I spoke idly about the Knicks before Helena gestured to the kitchen. “I’m going to get back in there. Come on down for a cocktail after you’ve settled in a little.”

I grabbed our bags and followed Hanna up the stairs.

“Put Will in the yellow room,” Helena called.

“Was that my room before?” I asked, checking out Hanna’s perfect ass. She had always been slender, but the running was doing really great things for her curves.

“No, you were in the white guest room, the other one,” she said, and then turned to smile at me over her shoulder. “Not that I remember every detail of that summer or anything.”

I laughed and stepped past her into the bedroom that was meant to be mine for the night. “Where is your room?” The question came out before I’d really considered whether it was a good thing to ask, and certainly whether I’d checked to make sure no one else had followed us up here.

She looked back over her shoulder and then stepped inside, closing the door. “Two doors down.”

The space seemed to shrink, and we stood, staring at each other.

“Hey,” she whispered.

It was the first time since we left New York that I considered this might be a horrible idea. I was in love with Hanna. How would I be able to keep that from showing every time I looked at her?

“Hey,” I managed.

Tilting her head, she whispered, “You okay?”

“Yeah.” I scratched my neck. “Just . . . want to kiss you.”

She took a few steps closer until she could run her hands under my shirt and up my chest. I bent, pressing a single, chaste kiss to her mouth.

“But I shouldn’t,” I said against her lips when she came back for another.

“Probably not.” Her mouth moved over my chin, down my jaw, sucking, nibbling. Beneath my shirt, she scratched my chest with her fingernails, lightly sliding over my nipples. In only seconds I was rigid, ready, felt the fever slide over my skin and dig down into my muscles.

“I won’t want to stop at just kissing,” I said, half-warning for her to stop, half-plea for her to keep going.

“We have a little time before everyone else gets here,” she said. She stepped back far enough to unbutton my jeans. “We could—”

I stilled her hands, the cautious side winning out. “Hanna. No way.”

“I’ll be quiet.”

“That isn’t the only issue I have with f**king you in your parents’ house—during daylight, no less. Didn’t we just have this conversation outside?”

“I know, I know. But what if this is the only time we’ll be alone together?” she asked with a smile. “Don’t you want to fool around with me here?”

She had lost her mind. “Hanna,” I hissed, closing my eyes and stifling a groan as she pushed my jeans and boxers down my h*ps and wrapped a warm, tight hand around my shaft. “We really shouldn’t.”

She stopped, holding me gently. “We can be quick. For once.”

I opened my eyes, looking at her. I didn’t like to be quick ever, but especially not with Hanna. I liked to take my time. But if she was offering herself to me and we only had five minutes, I could handle five minutes. The rest of the family hadn’t arrived yet; maybe it would be okay. And then I remembered: “Fuck. I don’t have any condoms. I didn’t pack any. For obvious reasons.”

She cursed, wincing. “Me, either.”

The question hung between us when she looked at me, eyes wide and pleading.

“No,” I said without her having to say a word.

“But I’ve been on the pill for years.”

I closed my eyes, jaw tight. Fuck. Pregnancy was the only thing I’d really been worried about. Even in my wildest days, I’d never had sex without a condom. In the past several years I was tested for anything every few months anyway. “Hanna.”

“No, you’re right,” she said, thumb sweeping over the head of my cock, spreading the moisture there. “It’s not just about getting pregnant. It’s about being safe . . .”

“I’ve never had sex without a condom,” I blurted. Who knew I had a death wish?

She stilled. “Ever?”

“Never even rubbed around on the outside. I’m too paranoid.”

Her eyes widened. “What about ‘just the tip’? I thought every guy did just the tip as a point of habit.”

“I’m paranoid and careful. I know it only takes one time.” I smiled at her, knowing she’d understand the reference: I was an “oops” baby.

Her eyes darkened, moved to stare at my mouth. “Will? This would be your first time like this?”

Fuck. When she looked at me like that, when her voice got all husky and quiet, I was lost. It wasn’t just a physical attraction between us. Of course I’d been attracted to women before. But there was something more with Hanna, some chemistry in our blood, something between us that snapped and crackled, that made me always want just a little more than I should take. She offered her friendship, I wanted her body. She offered her body, I wanted to hijack her thoughts. She offered her thoughts, I wanted her heart.

And here she was, wanting to feel me inside her—just me, just her—and it was nearly impossible to say no. But I tried.

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea. We should be a little more thoughtful about that decision.”

Particularly if there will be other guys in your “experiment,” I didn’t say.

“I just want to feel it. I haven’t had sex without a condom, either.” She smiled, stretching to kiss me. “Just inside. Just for a second.”

Laughing, I whispered, “Just the tip?”

She stepped backward and leaned against the edge of the mattress, pushing her skirt up her h*ps and shimmying her panties down her legs. She faced me, spread her thighs and leaned back on her elbows, her h*ps hovering at the edge of the mattress. All I had to do was step closer and I could push inside. Bare.

“I know it’s crazy and I know it’s stupid. But God, that’s how you make me feel.” Her tongue slipped out, pressed to her bottom lip. “I promise to be quiet.”

I closed my eyes, knowing as soon as she said that, I’d decided. The more important question was whether I could be quiet. I shoved my pants farther down and stepped between her legs, holding my c**k and leaning over her. “Fuck. What are we even doing?”

“Just feeling.”

My heart hammered in my throat, in my chest, in every inch of my skin. This felt like the final sex frontier; how weird that I’d done almost everything except this? It seemed so simple, almost innocent. But I’d never wanted to feel anything as much as I wanted to feel her, skin to skin. It was like a fever, taking over my mind and my reason, telling me how good it would feel to sink into her for just a second, just to feel and that would be enough. She could go back down to her room, unpack, freshen up, and I’d jerk off harder and faster than I’d ever jerked off in my life.

It was settled.

“Come here,” she whispered, reaching for my face. I lowered my chest, opening my mouth to taste her lips, sucking on her tongue, swallowing her sounds. I could feel the slick skin of her pu**y against the underside of my c**k but that wasn’t where I wanted to feel her. I wanted to feel her all around me.

“You good?” I asked, reaching between us to rub her clit. “Can I make you come first? I don’t think we should finish like this.”

“Can you pull out?”

“Hanna,” I whispered, sucking on her jaw. “What happened to ‘just the tip’?”

“You don’t want to feel what it’s like?” she countered, hands sliding over my ass, h*ps rocking. “You don’t want to feel me?”

I growled, nipping at her neck. “You are a f**king devious girl.”

She reached down and moved my fingers away from her clit, and took hold of me, rubbing my length over and around her sweet, drenched skin. I groaned into her neck.

And then she guided me there, holding, waiting for me to move my hips. I shifted forward, and back again, feeling the subtle give of her body when the head of my c**k slid just inside. I moved deeper, the tiniest bit into her, just until I felt her stretch around my shaft and I stopped, groaning.

“Fast,” I said. “Quiet.”

“I promise,” she whispered.

I’d expected warmth, but I was unprepared for how warm, how soft, how f**king wet it would feel. I was unprepared to feel dizzy from the feel of her, the sensation of her pulse beating all around me, muscles fluttering, of her tight hungry sounds in my ear telling me how different it was for her, too.

“Fuck,” I grunted, unable to stop from moving all the way into her. “I don’t . . . I can’t f**k like this yet. It’s too good. I’ll come fast.”

She held her breath, hands gripping my arms so tight it hurt. “It’s okay,” she managed, and then let out her breath in a gust. “You always hold out so long. I want it to feel so good you can’t last.”

“You’re so evil,” I hissed and she laughed, turning her head to capture my mouth in a kiss.

We were propped at the edge of the bed, our shirts still on, my jeans around my ankles and her skirt bunched at her hips. We’d just came upstairs to put our things away, freshen up, get situated. It was so bad that we were doing this here, but somehow we were hardly making any sound, and I convinced myself that if I could keep my wits about me, maybe I could f**k her slow enough to keep the bed from squeaking. But then I realized that I was inside her, completely bare, in her parents’ house. I almost came just looking down at where I was buried inside her.

I slid almost all the way out—reveling in how wet I was from her—and inched back in, and then again, and again. And fuck, I was ruined. Ruined for sex with anyone else, ruined for using a condom with this girl.

“Executive decision,” she whispered, voice hoarse, breaths coming out in sharp spikes. “Forget the running. We need to do this five times a day.” Her voice was so faint I pressed my ear to her lips to hear what else she might say. But all I could make out in my haze of sensation were whispered broken sentences with words like hard, and skin and stay inside me after you come.

It was that last idea that did me in, that made me think about coming inside her, kissing her until she grew fevered and urgent again and then growing hard with her tensing all around me. I could f**k her, stay there, and f**k her again before falling asleep inside her.

I moved harder, holding on to her hip, finding that perfect rhythm that didn’t jolt the bed frame, didn’t bounce the aluminum headboard into the wall. The pace where she could still stay quiet, where I could try to hold on until I got her there . . . but it was a losing battle, and it had barely been a few minutes.

“Oh shit, Plum,” I groaned. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” I threw my head back, feeling my orgasm barreling up my legs, down my spine, coming too soon. I pulled out, jerking my c**k hard in my fist as she reached between her legs, pressing her fingers to her clit.

Footsteps sounded just outside in the hall, and my eyes flew to Hanna’s to see if she heard it, too, just a split second before someone pounded on the door.

My vision blurred and I felt myself starting to come.

Fuck. Fuuuuuck.

Jensen yelled, “Will! Hey, I’m here! You in the bathroom?”

Hanna sat up abruptly, eyes wide and wild with apology but it was already too late. I closed my eyes, coming in my hand, on the bare skin of her thigh.

“Just a second,” I wheezed, staring down at where I still pulsed in my grip. I bent over the bed, leaning one hand on the mattress for support. When I looked up at Hanna, she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from where my release landed on her skin, and—fuck—all over her skirt.

“I’m just changing. I’ll be right out,” I managed, my heart feeling like it was about to pound out of my body with the sudden flush of adrenaline that pumped through my blood.

“Cool. I’ll meet you downstairs,” he said, his footsteps retreating.

“Shit, your skirt . . .” I stepped back, scrambling to get dressed quickly, but Hanna hadn’t moved.

“Will,” she whispered, and I saw the familiar hunger darken her eyes.

“Fuck.” That was too f**king close. The door wasn’t even locked. “I don’t . . .”

But she leaned back, pulling me over her. She was so completely unconcerned about her brother walking in, seeing us. And he had left, hadn’t he?