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“Tell me you’ll think about it,” Theo presses.

“I promise. Listen, I’ve got to go.”

I pull him into a hug and he reluctantly lets me.

“If it helps, my dick is way bigger,” he murmurs.

“Theo!” I shove him and he lifts both hands.

Hopefully, I’ve salvaged our friendship. Theo doesn’t seem like a guy who’d let feelings over a girl keep him down for long.

When he heads back toward the tables, I cut between the stacks and cross the library, keeping my eyes down until I reach the window.

“What’re you doing?” I demand.

Jameson leans closer. “Busting you out. You look bored.”

“Convenient that I was bored talking with Theo.”

“I didn’t notice.”

“Liar.” I rest my elbows on the sill.

“You done here?” he asks mildly, as if he knows the answer.

Rain drips from the eaves outside, and I wrap my sweater tighter around me.

I make excuses to my friends, promising to be back in an hour, before I slip out the side door of the school.

Jameson’s waiting by the road on his bike. I take a second to appreciate his graceful posture, the impatient tilt of his head. “Let’s go.”

Somewhere along the line, I started picturing my world with Jameson Ashford in it. At first, he was lurking at the edges. Lately, he’s fully in frame. Consuming and unapologetic.

I put on a helmet and climb on behind him.

The speed is a drug. So is the feel of him, warm and hard and masculine in front of me. His hips between my thighs.

Rain streaks my sweater, beading on my skin, but I couldn’t care less. He pulls off onto a shoulder with a view of the river and cuts the engine.

“This is my favorite spot,” he says, dragging off his helmet. “I come here when I need to think. To forget about…everything I’m supposed to be thinking about.”

I slide off the bike and walk toward the edge, admiring the serene setting. “You bring anyone here?”

“No.”

The river roars below us, drowning out the world.

It hits extra hard that he brought me. When I turn back, Jameson is watching me, not the view. The expression on his face is wary—not like he’s trying to shut me out, but like he’s trying to decide if he can let me in.

I cross to him, standing close enough his knee brushes mine. “Did you bust me out because you planned it or you saw me talking to Theo?”

In an effortless move, he grabs me and sets me astride the bike, facing him. My thighs rest over his.

“Rest” is the wrong word. Every muscle in my body is tight, every inch of me wanting.

“Both.”

His simple admission is a drug. I crave it, especially when I know how hard he works to keep his inner life private.