She didn't appreciate his judgment. "She didn't feed me, Dylan. She-"

"No, no. I'm just saying. You left her. That must've been hard."

"It was...but it mostly wasn't."

"No regrets?"

"None. Best decision I could've made."

"And how is she now?"

"Still an alcoholic. She married another alcoholic. He's more functioning than her. He's an insurance agent, with his own practice. They lead a very sad life."

"Do you see her?"

"No. I send her a birthday and Mother's Day card. But she really isn't capable of any kind of relationship. I used to go over there on holidays-with Jonathan, my ex. My brothers wouldn't go. They have no relationship with her at all. But I could tell how uncomfortable it made her when I visited. She tried to be sober for me, but she didn't want to be. She wanted me gone so she could get back to drinking."

"Does she..."

"Does she what?" She gentled her voice.

"Does she hate you? For leaving her?"

"At first she did. She was so ugly and mean."

"Did you feel guilty? Did you want to go back to her?"

"No, never. And I don't feel guilty. I can't help her. For years I tried to fix her. I'd hide her booze, pry bottles from her hands. I'd crawl into bed with her and shake her, begging her to stop drinking. I mean, she'd fought for me to live with her, right? But I figured out much later that she only wanted me to live with her because she couldn't bear being alone. The best thing I could do was leave her-for myself, obviously-but for her, too. She can't change. She won't change. And having this kid around just caused her more grief, more guilt, more burden. Now, she's free to drink herself to death."

"Are you really that detached?"

She held his gaze, feeling his censure down to her bones. "Yeah, Dylan, I am. My mom's not reachable. She's never going to change. I let go."

"But she's your mom."

"I can't help her, Dylan. There's nothing I can do. She chooses the life she's leading. I chose a different one."

"Don't you miss her?"

"I'm sorry if I sound like a cold-hearted bitch to you, and that's why I don't talk about her, but no, Dylan, I don't miss her. What's to miss? Her yelling at me when she's blasted? Slurring all the time? Vomiting during my playdates?"

He swallowed, his eyes so filled with pain, she could barely stand to look at him. He cupped her chin, kissed her. "You amaze me."

Maybe she misunderstood? Maybe he didn't think badly of her. The way he looked at her, with such admiration and...well, like he liked her, made her want to run her fingers through his silky hair, press her lips to his cheek. She shifted on his lap, her knee bumping into his erection. Desire tore through her, and for a few moments, she didn't pull away. Because, God, she wanted him so badly.

But then she remembered she wasn't doing drama. She wasn't going to pine for a guy she couldn't have. And Dylan had made it clear she couldn't have him. His life was not his own, he'd said, and he wasn't open to seeing things any differently.

How many years had she hoped for Jonathan to change? People don't change. Her mom hadn't, Jonathan hadn't. And if she wanted to be sane, she had to make the choices that were right for her.

She couldn't help Dylan any more than she could help her mom or Jonathan. Her leg shifted away, but he clamped a hand down, holding her in place, right up against his erection. His breathing changed, and his gaze drifted to her mouth.

"Nicole." His hand went around the back of her neck and brought her down to meet him in a hard kiss. It grew urgent immediately, his tongue brushing hers, sending sparks along her nerves. "Fuck," he breathed against her lips, both hands going around her back and pressing her tightly against him.

No one had ever kissed her like this-with so much urgency and need. Like he had to have her.

But then she remembered the two girls he'd brought home tonight.

She pulled away from him and got off his lap. "I'm not one of your party favors."

He looked confused, eyes still glazed, mouth still wet. "My what?"

She motioned to the archway, where his girls had flanked him. "The girls you bring home with you. If you want to be my friend, I guess that's fine." They lived and worked together, so it was unavoidable. "But anything else..." She shook her head. "Keep your hands off me."

His mouth shut, jaw muscle working. He stood, crowding her in the small space, forcing her to step back. "What the hell do you think I've been trying to do?"

Five days since he'd seen her.

He didn't get attached to many people. His close friends, Kelsi, but that was it. And in spite of what Nicole thought about him having random hookups, he didn't find himself attracted to all that many girls.

But with Nicole-he was out of control. He couldn't stop thinking about her, missing her, dammit. His body craved her.

Dylan stumbled on a crack in the sidewalk-the same block of concrete he passed every day, several times a day. Only tonight he wasn't paying attention. He caught himself before he hit the pavement, but it woke him up. Jarred him out of the fog he'd been living in.

His knuckles hurt like a bitch, and every time he moved his mouth, his split lip cracked and started burning again.

Instead of going in the front door, he ducked along the hedges at the side, heading around back to look into the kitchen windows. He imagined Nicole at the stove, stirring the honeysuckle syrup, that dreamy expression coming over her. That pink tongue licking the spoon, her expression so sensual. He went hard imagining that tongue licking his cock, that same look on her face as she took him in her mouth.

And, really, why her? Why the fuck her? Any of the girls he'd met so far would gladly fuck him, so why didn't he want them? Why did he want the one girl he couldn't have?

Through the window he could see the yellow glow from the lights under the cabinets. The kitchen looked clean, boxes stacked neatly for his delivery the next day.

He entered through the back door, tread quietly through the kitchen, and climbed the staircase. Immediately, he noticed her door was open, while his was closed. Murmuring grew louder the closer he got to his bedroom. Great, the two of them in bed again.

He headed into the bathroom first and cleaned himself up as best he could. He hadn't gotten too involved in the brawl. He'd just thrown enough punches to get himself cleared of the ruckus and out the door. Still, he'd wear his bruises for the next few days.

The moment he opened the door, conversation ceased. Dropping onto the edge of the mattress, he untied his boots and kicked them off.

A desk lamp flicked on. "What happened to you?" James asked.

But Dylan didn't look at James. He looked at his girl. Er, Nicole. She was so fucking beautiful. She didn't look at him accusingly or hurt or anything like he expected. She just looked...accepting.

"Nothing."

Without a word, she got out of bed in her little rubber ducky pajama shorts and yellow tank top and left the room.

"So now you're getting into fights?" James pushed up against a mound of pillows. "What is the matter with you?"

"What do you care what I do?"

James rolled his eyes. "Of course I care what you do. You're my friend. I just don't understand your choices."

When Nicole came back, she sat down beside him. Brushing the hair off his forehead, she dabbed a wet cotton ball at the scrape over his forehead. She smelled like honeysuckle and a hint of rose, and he went hard-full on raging erection-his skin screaming for her touch, his cock aching to bury itself deep inside her.

Setting a bag of frozen broccoli on the back of his hand, she wrapped it up in a kitchen towel. Finally, she spoke. "You worked so hard to get here. And what do you do? Recreate Gun Powder all over again. Why bother? If this is the life you want, just go back home." She got up and walked out of the room.

He sat there for several moments, feeling gutted and cold. Really cold. So cold, he tossed the ice pack to the floor, got under the covers, and turned his back on James.

Quiet chuckling got his attention, and he rolled back. "What?"

"She's so right."

"I'm here for the education. Nothing more."

"Pretty sure Colorado offers higher education."

"Trying to get rid of me?"

"Don't be a bitch. It's just...you've built this whole life for yourself away from campus. I'm not saying Sigma Phi was right for you. But other than one night at a frat party, what've you tried on campus? What friends have you made? You're not even giving it a chance. She's right. You just recreated your old life. Why not just go home-because it seems like that's what you want deep down."

"Deep down? You think you know what I want deep down?"

"I only know what you do. The world you've created for yourself since you got here. Obviously, you could have anything you want. You've got the grades, the looks, the brains. Everything. You could've joined Sigma Phi-they'd have let you in for free. You could fuck any girl on this campus-but you don't. You could have friendship-but I guess we're just not your kind of people. That's okay. I'm not everyone's cup of tea. Neither is Nicole. She knows that."

"She thinks I don't like her?"

"Not enough."

"Enough for what?"

"To be with her, asshole."

"I can't be with her."

James reached for the light, shut it off. "You're such a dipshit."

He couldn't sleep. How could he with this hard-on? Every time he closed his eyes he saw her. He saw her in his bed, those long eyelashes fanning in perfect arcs on her creamy skin. Or on his lap, straddling him, her face taut with sexual tension. Or, worse, he imagined her on her back, hair spread all over the pillow, breasts bouncing as he slammed into her. Jesus, he ached just thinking about it.

He had to stop this. He had better control over his emotions than this-how else would he have survived this long?

What was happening to him? That first night, when he'd brought her into his bed-he'd felt it then. This connection, this bond. He hadn't even known her-but he'd felt her. Inside, he'd felt her. When had she become essential to him?

Oh, shit. That was bad. Very bad. No one could ever be essential to him.

What she'd said tonight-about recreating Gun Powder. He had done that.

He'd hated his life back home. The town itself was beautiful, but it was filled with his big, extended family-family that wanted nothing to do with him. They'd given him a choice-him or his mom. Of course, he'd chosen his mom. But that had narrowed his social life to the guys who weren't going anywhere.

Or maybe he'd chosen those guys because he thought they'd understand his life a little better.

And, yeah, he guessed he had done the same thing here.

But he couldn't stop thinking about what James had said about what he wanted deep down. He'd never been allowed to think about what he wanted. For him, it was about survival. Nothing else.

And yet, he had worked his ass off to get into a top school. Why? Like James said, if he planned on going back to Gun Powder, why bother with the expense and hassle of Wilmington?

Hope rose in him, a force so strong he couldn't ignore it. He came here because he wanted more. Nicole.

He did have something deep down. And that something was a someone.

Holy shit. Adrenaline crashed his system.

Nicole was his deep down. She was his home, his heart.

His mom had never felt like home. How had he not seen that before? He loved his mom, of course he did. But he felt...wary around her. Never trusting her, always waiting for the next patch of trouble. He could never let down his guard around her.

But Nicole? She was his someone. She was his.

Throwing back the covers, he stalked out of his bedroom and right to her door.

Fuck. She was his heart. His deep down.

His hand closed around the doorknob, but there was no give at all. She'd locked it. Locked him out. Because his inability to man up had hurt her.

No more.

He tapped his knuckles against her door. "Nicole? Let me in."

The lock popped, and her sleepy head peeked out. "Dylan?"

He stepped inside and closed the door. Using his body to push her back, he watched the backs of her legs hit the mattress and she sat with a bounce.

"What do you want?"

"You."

She gave a sharp intake of breath. Her hands went to his stomach, and his dick got even harder. "Are you sure?"

He hoped the absolute certainty showed on his face because he had no words. She looked so beautiful, so incredibly sexy in her little tank top and short pajama bottoms.

She crawled back on her bed, and he followed her, laying his body on top of hers. He cupped her face with one hand, taking her mouth, and finally, finally giving into his heart. Why not? She owned it anyway.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, and her body shifted restlessly beneath him.

Lifting off her, he shoved the blankets away, got rid of his boxers, and climbed into bed. Completely awash in her heat, her sweet scent, and warmth, he kissed her again. Licking into her mouth, stroking her soft skin with his thumb.

"Dylan...?" She tried to speak, but her mouth kept coming back to his, taking more of him.