It’s true that you can tell a lot about a person by the company they keep. Assholes tend to gravitate toward each other, making themselves look better or worse, depending on the circumstance.

“Stanton’s a really good guy. Solid, you know? He tries to do the right thing—it’s important to him—but sometimes he can’t get out of his own way. But still, he’s the kind of guy you could call if you’ve got a flat tire at 2 a.m. in the middle of a blizzard—he wouldn’t hesitate to throw on his boots and come get you.”

I see Kennedy’s responding smile in the dim light.

“Sofia has three older brothers, so she’s tough, but it hides a very soft center. She’s passionate and funny . . . she’s like the big sister I never had.”

Kennedy’s palm runs over my bicep—tentative at first—then with a surer touch.

“And Jake . . . you’ll like Jake. He’s really mean.”

Her muffled laugh fills the air. “He’s mean?”

There’s a grin in my voice when I answer. “Totally. He puts up this hard-ass front—and he is tough—but it’s only because he doesn’t want people to see how deeply he cares. He notices everything—every detail. And he’d happily commit murder for the people he loves.”

“They sound like really good friends.”

“Yeah, they’re the best. I’m lucky.”

We’re silent for a few minutes. The thrum of my heartbeat jacks up as her hand continues to stroke my arm. Up and down, smooth and warm.

“Brent?” Her voice is the barest whisper, like she’s checking to see if I’m asleep.

“Mmm?”

“I . . . I missed you so much.”

And I’m done.

The need to kiss her, to touch her, has been pulling at me like a raging current ever since I saw her on my front step, and with those few words, I let the current take me.

I close the miniscule distance between us and press my lips against hers. She sinks into me with a sigh. Her mouth molds to mine—I cup her jaw with one hand, and she opens for my tongue to slide against hers. It feels unreal—sweet and amazingly familiar. I groan with the taste of her.

And it’s like I’m seventeen again, back in that Ferrari. Hot excitement courses through my bloodstream with every pound of my heart. Need and desire; wanting to touch her everywhere, yet wanting to savor every second.

And suddenly I realize why what I felt back then was so powerful. It wasn’t because I was a horny kid who couldn’t wait to blow his load.

It was her.

This beautiful, sweet, strong girl in my arms. She got to me forever ago—under my skin, into my heart—and she’s been there, waiting, ever since. And now she’s here—in my bed—her skin flushed with excitement, her fingers gripping my shoulders, her teeth nibbling at my lips in a way that makes me almost lose my fucking mind.

Without breaking contact with her mouth, I raise up on one elbow so I’m hovering above her. Her stomach contracts under my palm as my other hand slides over it and comes to rest on one perfect breast. She fits beautifully in my hand, and when I squeeze its softness, Kennedy moans and sucks hard on my tongue, showing me how much she likes it.

I rub my hand in a slow circle, squeezing with my fingers, feeling the fevered point of her hard nipple against the center of my palm. And she whimpers in my mouth, arches up into my touch. I spread kisses from her lips, down her jaw, covering the spot on her neck where her pulse jumps with pleasure. I suction that skin, tasting the remnants of rain and sweat and that special flavor that is hers alone

She breathes hard, and her hands are everywhere—running through my hair, sliding down my back, kneading the muscles in my shoulders and arms. I lick my way up to her ear, scraping her lobe between my teeth, and my hand reverses course. Sliding back down with teasing slowness to where her pelvis is rising, looking for friction but only finding air.

And I’m going to take care of that for her.

When my hand settles between her legs, over her panties, my fingers resting against her pussy, I rasp into her ear, “Is this okay?”

And she gives me the sweetest of all three-letter words.

“Yes.”

My hand contracts, my fingers press against her opening—letting her feel the pressure, letting her imagine how fucking fantastic it’s going to be when they plunge inside. A frenzied sound comes from her throat and her hips gyrate against me, begging for more.

“What do you want me to do, Kennedy?”

I slide my hand back and forth, teasing, taunting, stoking her fire.

She yanks on my hair. “Touch me.”

She pulls my mouth back to hers, wild now, her tongue swirling and licking, wet and desperate. And my hand never stops its sliding motion. I can feel her clit now beneath the silk, swollen and reaching for release.

“More,” she pants, her eyes squeezed closed. “Please, touch me more.”

I move my hand up to her stomach, covering her belly button, and then I slip beneath that silk. And something about my hand being under her panties makes it even hotter.

A moment later I’m the one moaning, my eyes squeezed tight against the overwhelming sensation of Kennedy’s smooth, bare skin sliding against my hand.

Oh fuck, she’s so wet. And her heat is scorching and perfect. I want to drive my tongue deep into that heat—feel it wrapped tight around my cock.

Resisting that need, wanting to please her more, I slide two fingers between her swollen lips, but don’t yet plunge inside. I spread her wetness on her clit, around her opening, rubbing tight circles that make Kennedy’s legs spread wider.