“I fell off the cart trying to get service. My arm hurts—near the elbow.”

Maneuvering her up to sit between my legs and face me, I took her sweater off to get a better look. It had a wide neck and slipped easily over her head, revealing her black lace bra.

Mentally groaning and trying to ignore the swell of her breasts, I used the flashlight to inspect the purple bruise on her arm. “You took a bump, but it’s not broken.” I pushed a strand of hair out of her face. “What else?”

“My head,” she said with a wince. “I hit the edge of the cart on my way down.”

There was a small bump on the right side of her temple, but it didn’t seem too serious. “Let me see your eyes.” Her face turned back toward me, the paleness of her skin striking me deep in the gut. “Your pupils are good. How many fingers do I have up?”

“Two. People always hold up two.”

I gave her a squeeze, relief washing over me at her teasing tone. She was okay. “Good news is I don’t think you have a concussion. Bad news is I completely freaked out when I saw you and didn’t call the campus police.” I’d been reacting on instinct, and my instinct had been yelling, Get to her!

I glanced around the room, my eyes getting used to the darkness, taking in the details. I landed on the metal shelves. “I can get us out of here with those.” I glanced back at her. “Are you in pain anywhere else?”

“Just my leg, but I think it’s okay.”

“Let me look,” I said. “Take your pants off so we don’t miss anything.”

She paused for a moment, then nodded. She slipped her booties off and unbuttoned her jeans. I helped her slide them down her legs, sending up a thank you they weren’t her usual skinny jeans.

A huge bruise, about the size of my hand, was purpling on her outer right thigh.

Even in the obviousness of her injury, my mouth dried at how hard my dick was for her.

Be a freaking gentleman.

Right.

“It looks like your leg took most of the hit. You’re lucky.” I pressed my forehead to hers and kissed her lightly. “You scared the shit out of me.” I caressed her cheek. “How did you end up stuck down here?”

“Someone locked me in. I—I was putting away books, and someone shut the door and wedged a chair under it. I think they ran away, because I saw a shadow in the stairwell.”

I inhaled sharply. “Who?”

“I don’t know . . . but they . . . she . . . laughed at me. I mean, the sound was feminine but I guess I can’t be sure.” Her face paled as she looked back at the door. “They just left me here. I—I hate places I can’t get out of.” Her hands squeezed mine.

Cradling her in my lap, I ran my hand through her hair and palmed her scalp. She leaned tightly into my chest, her nose pressing against me and inhaling my scent. I comforted her, while trying to contain my anger.

Whoever did this—was going to fucking pay.

Sunny

HE’D RESCUED ME. AGAIN.

I’d realized exactly who he was the moment he’d opened that door weeks ago. He was older, his hair was longer and muscles bulkier, but I’d never forget him. The angel with the lush lips, broad shoulders, and perfectly chiseled face; a man brave enough to swim out into a dark lake to save me.

Then, I’d realized who he was—Max Kent, the king of all quarterbacks—exactly the kind of guy I didn’t need.

Plus, he hadn’t remembered me. Oh, he’d mentioned a connection, but that was nothing in comparison to me. He hadn’t had that profound moment where the universe realigned itself when we met.

That knowledge had ripped into me, and from that moment on, I’d done my damnedest to ignore fate—but then perhaps this was the way things were supposed to play out for us. Perhaps this was a lesson for me, and I should see it through until the end whether it ended happily or not. Either way, I was meant to meet him again. I was meant to get another chance. Right?

I sat up in his lap, curled my hand around his neck and touched the dark strands of hair next to his face, pushing them out of the way. God, he was beautiful, and he’d come down a twenty-foot drop to get to me.

Fate always knew exactly what I needed.

Clarity happens to all of us when we need it most. Sometimes it takes a knock to the head when you fall off a cart to get it through to you. Screw the fact that he might never remember the epic moment we’d had. He was mine. My heart knew it. My body knew it.

My hand cupped his cheek and my eyes searched his, yearning for him to wake up and remember me. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Max.” Need colored my voice. My nose ran up his neck, and I licked and kissed the pulse throbbing at his throat.

“What are you doing?” he ground out, his lids lowered to half-mast.

I lifted up his shirt and slipped it over his neck. “What I’ve wanted to do since the day I saw you.” I kissed each eye, the tickle of his long lashes reminding me how amazed I’d been at the way water had clung to them the night we’d first met.

His breathing was ragged. “Sunny . . .”

“I want to taste every part of you.” I moved to kiss his bicep, my tongue outlining his tattoo. “Every. Single. Inch.” My hand palmed the rock hard bulge in his jeans, making him toss his head back and groan.

I tugged down the right cup of my bra, showing him the bar piercing there. Made of sterling silver, it was flanked by delicate hearts. “I’ve seen you looking at this, and I think about you when my shirt rubs against my nipple. Touch me.”