She nods and I quickly close the door and dart around to the driver’s side. By the time I slide in, she’s buckled up and grinning at me. As I start the engine, the throaty roar of the 5.4-liter V-8 comes to life. I turn to her, barely able to speak with thoughts of what I hope to have time for shifting through my mind, and ask, “What time do you have to be home?”

She leans over and slides her tongue around the shell of my ear. “I have at least two hours. I was hoping you’d make it today, so I told my mom I had a study session and to ask Mrs. Cooper to babysit if she couldn’t get home before the girls’ bus.”

Turning my Corvette around the corner a little too fast, I drag my mind back to the road, but my dick twitches as I try to decide where we should go. My grandparents are in the process of moving from their house in Brentwood to a condominium in Beverly Hills and I’m pretty sure yesterday was moving day, so the house should be empty today. I know they have until the end of the summer to fully vacate, but I think we’re safe going there now. I glance at her as she settles back in her seat and fumbles through her bag with a look of concern on her face.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

Her eyes flutter as we turn the corner and the sun makes them sparkle. “Of course,” she says with a smile.

“Where do you want to go? Pool house or pier?” I ask. Of course, getting her na**d is what I really want to do, but I’d be cool with just hanging out and talking if that’s what she’s up for. I know she has a lot going on with her mother.

Pulling a CD out of her bag, she ejects my Nirvana disc and tucks it into the sleeve above her visor, alongside the many others. Then she inserts hers into the player and kicks her feet up. Staring at her legs has me wishing I hadn’t given her a choice of where to go. She doesn’t answer right away. Instead she reaches for the sunglasses she threw on the dash and puts them on. Then she looks my way, raises her head, and quietly says, “The pool house is fine with me.”

My mouth goes dry and my breathing becomes forced. I’m a little more than excited with her choice. I try to deflect my anticipation by pointing to the player. “What CD is this?”

Dropping her feet, she turns toward me and just a glance has me looking at her tits overflowing from her pushup bra. Fuck, a week has been a long time. How am I going to make the two months this summer? I hope my mom will let me make calls from France.

“Stop staring at my chest,” she chastises me, not even attempting to pull the puckered fabric of her shirt together.

“How can I be staring when I’m driving?”

“I don’t know, but you are,” she says, turning bright red.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” I tell her.

“I’m not,” she says shyly and searches in her bag again. She offers me a piece of gum and I decline as she sticks one in her mouth. She blows a bubble and pops it before hitting PLAY. “I made you a mix tape so that when you’re thinking of me you can listen to it and know I’m thinking of you. I also made you a photo album,” she says, pulling a black canvas album out of her backpack. Glancing at it, I can see it has a picture of us inserted in the front. It’s a photo from last summer when we went with my family to Niagara Falls to see Third Eye Blind perform. Ivy and I are standing on the Maid of the Mist in yellow ponchos—both of us have a look of awe on our faces as the water rushes all around us and the sound of the falls roars above us.

“The pictures aren’t to share. And don’t look at them until you’re in France. This is to keep you away from all those hot French babes.”

“Baby, I’m only interested in you.”

“Two months is a long time, though.”

“It is. But all it means is a lot of hand action,” I joke.

Her face blazes with color. “That’s why I’m giving you a few pictures.”

I glance back at the album with what I know must be a shit-eating grin.

“Caution” plays through the speakers, and the song pulls me back in time. It was the first song she wrote that we played together and the only song I ever had a vocal spot in. Both of us seem to lose ourselves in our memories. We’ve been dreading the time we’ll be apart this summer. I thought I was taking it harder than she was, but I’m no longer so sure. Sometimes I forget that underneath her seemingly hard exterior is that fragile, sensitive girl who captured my heart. She always seems undaunted, unmoved—but I know she’s not.

Taking her hand, I pull it to my lips. “You’re crazy with those thoughts. You know that, right?”

She shrugs her shoulders. “We’ve never been apart for two months.”

I hesitate, trying to find the right words, but I’m not sure what they are, so I settle on, “It’ll be okay. It’s not that long. But thank you.” I pause, then chuckle. “How did I get so lucky to snag a girl like you?”

She leans over the console and kisses the corner of my mouth, then whispers in my ear, “It’s because you’re so good in bed.”

She quickly sits back in her seat, but I capture her hand first and look over at her. “You know it, baby,” I joke. Her cheeks blaze and I laugh. We were both virgins when we met and have only been with each other, so really there are no comparisons, and I like it that way. “Caution” ends and so does the playful mood in the car when Keane’s “She Has No Time” starts playing. The lyrics of the song cast a wave of sadness over me and I swallow the huge lump in my throat as it plays on. Ivy isn’t one for openly expressing her feelings, but sometimes she tells me things that make me want to snatch her and just run away. And this song triggers that protective instinct I have for her. It reminds me of her life so much that I have to press STOP. I think it’s better for me to listen to this CD when I’m alone.

This is one of our last days together for a while, so I want to keep things light and fun. I always tell her our relationship is so entangled with our messed-up family lives, but really it’s hers that is the sadder. My father might have turned into a drunk, but my family is close—something she doesn’t have. She loves her sisters, but they are so much younger than she is—she’s more like their mother than their sister. And her mother—I don’t even want to think about her.

As the CD ejects, I turn to her and mouth, “Thank you.” Then I tell her, “I’ll listen to it later,” and place the CD in the console.

“Technically, do people really make mix tapes anymore? Or are they called mix CDs?”

Laughing at her attempt to lighten the mood, I say, “I have no f**king idea, but great question.”

She twists sideways to pick up the photo album again and freezes. “Whose pink bag is that?”

I quickly glance back. “Tessa’s I think.”

“Why are Tessa Bloom’s things here?” she asks. Her voice is harsh.

I shrug. “She must have left it in here when I gave her a ride home.”

“Why are you giving her rides home? Doesn’t she have her own car?”

I place my hand on the bare skin of her leg. “Baby, not rides. A ride. And her car was in the shop, so she needed a lift.”

She leans back in her seat and fidgets with the seat belt. She turns away but replies, “I don’t really like her or her friend Amy hanging out with you when I’m not around.”

I squeeze her thigh and inch my fingers under her skirt. “Don’t be jealous. We’re just friends. You know that.”

She pouts. “I can’t help it. I know she likes you, Xander.”

“She doesn’t. But even if she did—I love you.”

She looks at me uncertainly. I reach my hand over and catch the back of her neck, pulling her in my direction. “Do you hear me?”

She nods and I let the silence sweep the car. Again, I want to keep today light, not argue about a girl who doesn’t matter. I finally pull into my grandparents’ driveway, and as I park my car, I see that she’s looking straight ahead, ignoring me. I lean over and kiss her cheek, then nip her ear. “Come on—we don’t have much time. Don’t be mad at me over a stupid ride.” She turns her head and I tug on her lip.

She finally smiles and playfully tries to tug mine back. Then, knuckling me in the side and wrinkling her nose, she says, “No more rides.”

“Okay,” I reply. “No more rides. Now stay put.” I push open my door and head over to her side of the car.

We walk quickly, straight to the pool house. It’s where we’ve spent most of our alone time over the past four years. Lately, I’ve had to share it with my brother, but when I found out my grandparents sold their house, I told him in no uncertain terms that the pool house was mine for the time we had left.

I swing open the unlocked opaque glass door. Ivy walks in first and I follow. The built-in window seat, ceiling fan, light blue walls, and bamboo wooden floor are all that remain. The furniture and pool table are gone, but I don’t think either of us cares. Once I close the door we become two silhouettes in a darkened room. She turns around and stands on her tiptoes. With the blinds closed, there is barely enough light to illuminate anything, but I can see the gleam in her eyes. I bury my face in her neck. “Fuck, I missed you,” I say again.

My hands roam her body, and her fingers skim mine right down to the front of my pants. Her fingertips trace up the length of my zipper and when she finds the tab, she slowly pulls it down.

“Fuck,” I say, and let my head fall back—her gentle touch only excites me further. When I can’t take it another minute, I circle my arms around her waist and suck on her earlobe. “Ummm . . . that feels so good.”

She drops her hands and leans into me—and the strain in my pants actually becomes painful. I quickly pull her shirt over her head and feel my way to the inside of her bra. “Unsnap it,” I tell her and when she does I feel the full weight of her br**sts in my hands and then with my mouth. Heat blazes through me and I can’t help but think about the looming summer separation that’s just a few days away—it’s really going to suck. I’m going to spend the next two months in Paris with my aunt, and Ivy will be taking her sisters to their grandparents’ place in Indiana. I hope those pictures she gave me help me get through it. I’m sure I’ll be doing a lot of fantasizing, so I try to capture every second of right now to use then as well.

When my lips return to hers, she’s trembling. “Are you cold?” I ask her.

“No,” she responds, her eyelids fluttering.

In the next moment, with our breathing loud and heartbeats louder, she pulls my shirt over my head. Running one hand along my abdomen, she teases, “Wow, have you been working out more?”

I catch her hand in mine and her smile lights up the room. I yank her to me and cover her mouth with mine in a hungry kiss. She responds immediately. My mouth caresses her soft lips and I want to taste every inch of her sweetness with my tongue.

Once I feel like I have thoroughly kissed her, I pull away, “Yeah, I’ve been working out every day, trying to exhaust myself to keep from climbing in your bedroom window and f**king you. And if I didn’t think your mom would have me arrested, I would have.”

She laughs halfheartedly. “It won’t be long and we won’t have to worry about my mom.” I can hear a sadness in her voice and I hope it’s only that she’ll miss her sisters when she’s away at college She kisses the very corner of my lips and runs her hands back down my stomach.

I hold her tightly and claim her mouth. With her eager return, my breathing quickens and my pulse races. It doesn’t take long for me to lean back and crook my finger, leading her over to the window seat. Feeling a sense of uncertainty in her that isn’t usually there, I take my time. I want her to feel how much I love her . . . to know she doesn’t have to worry about us being apart. I unbutton her skirt at the waist and then tug the zipper down, and the skirt falls to the floor.

“Open your legs,” I command.

When she does as I ask, I cover her pu**y with my hand and slip my fingers inside her panties. She is so wet. I suck in a breath, wanting to savor the feeling. It’s hard to believe two people could ever want each other as much as we do.

The room transforms around me. I see nothing but her as I quickly remove my pants. She watches me, and then I clutch her h*ps so I can lower us to the cushion, where I plan to spend all of the hour we have left making love to her. This time the sex won’t be frenzied, the f**king won’t be hurried—no, it will be a reflection of how we feel about each other. I wish we had more time . . . I wish we had all the time in the world. However, right now we don’t. I know I have to get her home and then head back to school to pick up River. But I push those thoughts aside and sink into her. As I thrust in and out, the world as I know it fades away and pleasure is all that remains.

CHAPTER 1

The Wire

Xander, 30 Years Old

The magic of rock and roll—it casts a spell on you. And I’m no exception. I’m a band manager and I’m living the dream, touring with the Wilde Ones, helping them secure their well-deserved place in the music industry. I love being a part of it all, especially watching the band perform live—the crowds, the cheers, the music. It’s a high and a low all at once, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Every step of the way with this band has been fun, exciting, stressful—every possible emotion. Obviously we’ve had some breaks, but mostly we all put in a lot of hard work—myself, Garrett Flynn the drummer, Phoenix Harper the bassist, River Wilde the former lead singer, and now Zane Perry the new lead.