"I'm sure." She floats around my apartment, touching things, exploring as she speaks. "Why don't you participate? You have to go to the meetings and write the letters, since you're already there, you might as well join in."

"I join in just enough."

"Oh, I forgot." She plays with the sheets nailed over my windows. "You're Carter Crawford. You don't participate, you're too cool for that. Instead, your contribution to society is making sure the masses don't get lost in the clouds by putting them in place with your cheery disposition."

"I'm sensing sarcasm from the girl who is often stuck in the clouds." I move up behind her, crowding her space.

"Living in the clouds can be fun."

"Yeah, but at some point you're going to have to face reality, which will vastly disappoint you."

"So why not live in the clouds then?" she asks, turning to face me, her fingers tangling together with mine.

"Because, Snowflake, some of us aren't as lucky as you. We can't all live off money Daddy left behind. Some of us have to work for what we want."

"Hey." She steps back, her brow furrowed again, but this time, it's not a furrow that's going to win me brownie points. "That wasn't very nice, Carter. I didn't know my dad left me that money, it was a surprise to me."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Then how did you mean it? Because right now, it seems like you're being a jerk and for no reason."

God, she's mad, and I find it adorable.

"You're taking this the wrong way. You don't get it. You should feel lucky you don't have to work as hard as I do just to stay afloat."

She shakes her head. "No, Carter, you don't get it. You think the world owes you something because so far you haven't had the best luck. Well, guess what? You're not the only person who thinks you were jousted by life. I'm twenty-one, I've never been on an airplane, and I've never been out of the state of Colorado. Friends? Didn't know what they were until a few months ago. Being intimate with a man? Yeah, have no idea what that's like. I'm so sheltered, so cut off from this world. For each new experience I have to constantly deal with high anxiety and the constant questioning of myself, making sure I'm not coming on too strong or being insensitive because the only true human interaction I had was with my grams. This is all new to me and don't you think I feel like I've been missing out? Because I have. I've missed out on everything. Prom, first boyfriends, sneaking out just to spite my parents, and doing stupid stuff every teenager does just for the heck of it. That's all foreign to me. You might feel like life owes you something, but it owes me too. Life isn't all cotton candy and rainbows over here."

"Then let's change that," I say, staring her down, like a wolf eyes his prey.

"What do you mean?" she asks, looking like a scared little lamb.

"You want reality? You want to fall from the clouds? How's this for you?" I take a few steps toward her, closing the distance between us. "When I first saw you at Dear Life, in those hideous overalls and a turtleneck, all I could think about was what you might be hiding underneath. And then you opened your mouth." I take another step. "Your voice, so innocent, so pure, it hit me straight in the gut like nothing I'd ever experienced before." Another step. "Then you smiled, and I thought I got sucker-punched in the goddamn jaw. You were so bright, so untouched." Finally reaching her, I cup her cheek. Is she this soft everywhere else? "And then I saw your heart, and I thought it was a fucking dream. How could this intricate snowflake, so crystal clear yet complex, how could she even want to talk to me?" Reaching with the other hand, I cup the back of her neck. "But you did, and fuck if I haven't thought about you every day since then." I take a deep breath and leap forward. "I like you, Daisy, more than I should, because we both know you should be hanging out with someone a whole lot better than me, but hell if I'll let that happen, not when you still find me interesting. Call me a selfish prick, a fucking asshole, but you make me forget everything around me. You're an authentic beauty, but not the everyday kind. You only meet a Daisy once in a lifetime, and fuck if I'm going to let this chance pass me by."

Before she can answer, I crash my lips to hers. My fingers dig into her skin, electrifying our connection, forcing her to do the same.

Tentatively, her hands shake in the best way possible as she presses her palms against my roughened jaw. Her lips, so soft; her touch, so gentle; the light mews coming from her mouth, so fucking bone jarring because they're not fake. They're real. She's so real, from the innocent look she gives me when she's about to learn something new, to the way she smiles while joking, to the lustful look I see right before I'm about to kiss her.

So fucking real.

And that right there, that is what has me clinging to her. As if I can't let go.

Her innocence, her purity, the way she sees this world unfiltered. I'm addicted.

Pushing her up against the sheet-covered window, I press my hips against hers, pinning her. She doesn't try to move. Instead, she sinks into my touch, her body melting like butter against me, fully giving herself over.

There are no walls, no boundaries between us. From her face, I move my hands down her neck, past her shoulders to her rib cage, my thumbs dancing dangerously close to her breasts. On a sexy gasp, her lips disengage from mine, her eyes wide from the way my thumbs are gently caressing the skin right below her breasts.

"Carter," she says breathlessly, searching my eyes. She bites her bottom lip, a nervous look about her. "I've never, um, done anything of the sexual nature."

Deep in my throat, a bark of laughter wants to come out from her phrasing. "The sexual nature." Only Daisy would say something like that. But to avoid humiliating her, I tamp down my reaction, swallow hard and say, "I kind of guessed that, Snowflake."

"Is it that obvious?" Her cheeks stain red. Of course it's that obvious, but that's not a negative thing. Her purity, I love it.

I press our palms together and hold them up by our shoulders, looking in those beautifully shy eyes of hers. "It's not obvious. I just know your past, where you've come from."

"Do you think I'm a loser?"

"What? No," I respond angrily. "Why the hell would I think that?"

Her shoulders move, unsure as to why she would ask me that question.

"Being cool is not defined by how provocative you've been in your earlier years, but by the kind of person you are on the inside. And after hearing about the stories with your grams and the way you treat everyday life occurrences with a smile, makes me believe you're pretty fucking cool."

Her bright smile eats me alive. "You're pretty cool yourself, Carter."

"I damn well better be in your eyes."

"You are." With trepidation, she stands on her toes and presses a kiss against my lips, our bodies settling against each other once again. I love how she reached out to me this time. She pursued me. Me. "I have a question or you," she says when she breaks apart from my lips.

"Yeah? What's that?"

Her fingers play with the back of my head, twisting and turning in my short strands. "Would you want to maybe meet my grams? Just because she wants to know who I'm hanging out with. You know, she's very protective and since-"

"Sure," I say to silence her. "On one condition."

"What's that?" she asks, that smile becoming impossibly bright.

"You make out with me on the couch. This talking is driving me fucking crazy. I just want your lips on mine."

Nervously, she says, "Um, okay, but I'm not . . . ready, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, neither am I," I answer.

"Wait, what?" she asks, looking a little insulted, which only makes me chuckle.

"Yeah, that's right, I'm not ready to go much farther with you either. Just because everything about you turns me on doesn't mean I'm about to bone you up against the window. When you have a connection like ours, you cherish it. Don't worry about me pushing things past making out and some heavy petting."

"Heavy petting?" she asks, a rise of her eyebrow. So fucking cute.

"Well, yeah, you can't make me stay away from your tits for too long. I'm a man, for fuck's sake."

As she giggles, I scoop her up in my arms, move us to the couch, and lay her down so my body is on top of hers. Pressing my weight against hers, I cup her face, my forearms framing her, and I lean down, loving the way she feels, so soft, so warm.

And at this moment, this one right here, I don't feel anything but Daisy's purity, and fuck if I'm not infatuated with it. With her.

JACE.

"Uh, do you have everything you need?" I ask from the hallway of my little apartment.

"I'm good," Hollyn replies.

Shifting away from the bathroom, I stand there, next to my bed, my hand rubbing the back of my neck, unsure what to do.

Hollyn is spending the night. I offered to get her a hotel room but she told me not to be ridiculous, that she would just stay with me in my little short-rental apartment. She didn't want me spending any more money on her . . . even though I was the one who asked her to come out here.

Hell, I wasn't going to put up a fight.

The only problem: my place is a total bachelor pad, meaning, there are two chairs that sit in front of a big-screen TV and one bed in the back of the apartment. I don't even have a dresser, which was fine until Hollyn came over and saw all my clothes folded and on the floor. It looks fucking tacky as shit.

I shouldn't care, but I do. I care a lot actually because I like Hollyn and want to make a good impression. Although, lately I haven't been doing a good job at that. I've been a blubbering mess around her, and that's embarrassing.

Today. With Ethan. Yeah, that was some fucked-up shit. When I left Rebecca's, all I could think about was one thing: getting to Hollyn. While I waited for her to fly in, I kept thinking what I was doing, why I needed her, but once I saw her in the airport, I knew exactly why I needed her. She soothes me, but not just me. She soothes my soul.

From her kind, knowing eyes, to her gentle, pacifying touch, she is able to take the darkness that tends to envelop me and turn it into something bright, something real.

The sound of objects clinking around in the sink of my bathroom draws my attention back to the here and now. Hollyn, she's here. She's really fucking here.

"Everything okay in there?" I ask.

The door opens, light floods into the bedroom, and Hollyn stands in the middle, her hair tied on top of her head, her face free of makeup, and a long T-shirt hanging loosely on her shoulders.

"Uh, do you have some paper towels?" She toes the carpet, her hands behind her back, and her eyes avoiding all contact with me.

"I have leftover Chipotle napkins." I wince. Cleaning supplies don't exist in my apartment since I have a maid service come in, but I should at least have paper towels . . . if I hit up the grocery store like I was supposed to.

"Those should work."

I turn to go get the napkins when an assault of my cologne hits me. What the hell?

"Did you use my cologne?" I wave my hand in front of my nose. "Like a lot of it?"

Guilty is written all over her face. There is no hiding it.

"Um." She rubs her forehead and shifts in place. "I kind of wanted to smell it, and in the midst of doing so, I might have dropped it in the sink, breaking the bottle open accidentally."

Laughter bubbles up inside me, but I tamp it down. "But my cologne was in my medicine cabinet. What were you doing in my medicine cabinet?"

Her wince deepens, shame and embarrassment visible on that beautiful face of hers. "If I said I was looking for night cream, would you believe me?"

"No." I cross my arms over my chest and shake my head.

"What about Gold Bond?"

My brow furrows. "The itching relief body powder? Not so much."

"Tampons?" she tried one last time.

A smirk crosses my face. "That's a fuck no."

"Fine." She succumbs with a defeat in her shoulders. "I was snooping, found your cologne, fumbled it like an idiot and then smashed it in your sink. I just wanted a sniff. Who knew the bottle was going to be so slippery?"

"And why did you want a sniff?" Teasing Hollyn, making her blush, God, it has to be one of my new favorite things.

"Because, uh . . ." she pauses and then says, "I've heard if you smell something before you taste it, you get the full experience?" There is no confidence in her voice. It's all question. Fuck. Me.

"Smell it before you taste it?" I step toward her, closing in rapidly. "Are you referring to tasting me or the cologne?"

The distance between us shortens quickly, her body stiffening with my approach. Her hands are trembling. Is she second-guessing this? Or is she nervous?

"Not the cologne," she answers shyly.

The last few inches between us close. My hand to her waist, my eyes trained on hers, my breath a whisper away. She said she was ready? Right? I don't want to push too far, and yet, I need to dive in. I need to know what it feels like to have her intimately pressed up against me, our skin melting together, our tongues tangled, and our hearts beating as one.

I need this more than anything.

But I will wait if she's not ready. I don't want to, but I will wait.

Tentatively, I trace the line of her jaw with my thumb, marveling in the beautiful, delicate structure of her face, taking in every contour, every divot. And I can't help but think, Eric was one lucky son of a bitch to have married Hollyn, even if it was for a short period of time.

"I want to kiss you, Hollyn. So fucking bad."

"Then do it," she says on a whisper.

"I can't."

With a cute tilt to her head, she asks, "Why not?"

Isn't it blatantly obvious? This woman can be so oblivious at times.

"Because," I lean in, my nose running along her jawline, stopping at her ear to finish my sentence, "if I kiss you right now, I won't be able to stop myself from stripping this T-shirt off you and kissing your entire body, leisurely exploring you with my tongue."

Her breath hitches, the pulse in her neck quickens, and everything in her body stiffens. At that moment, I know I fucked up. She let me kiss her, that was it. It wasn't an open invitation to talking about licking every inch of her body.

Christ, Jace. Shit.

"What are you waiting for?"

My head is cast down, shame coursing through me when her words register in my brain. What?

What am I waiting for?

Wait, what?

Shocked and already excited, my eyes meet hers for confirmation. There is some hesitation in the way her body rests against mine, but those eyes, they give her away. She wants me as much as I want her.

I don't want her to regret it in the morning, causing me to pause.

"Are you sure?" Even though I'm itching to explore Hollyn's body, I'm conscious of the trauma she's been through. I would be the first man she's been intimate with since her husband died, so I don't want to be insensitive and capitalize on a weak moment of hers.