"Not in the beginning. When we met he was just like me. That's how we became friends. Both a little nerdy."

"You're not nerdy."

"Whatever. We were both independents in a school full of stereotypes. I wasn't a jock like my brothers. I wasn't a brain or a thespian."

"Well, you weren't a nerd."

"Fine. The point is that neither of us was in a group. Which meant we didn't have a huge social life. We were friendly with everyone, but we didn't go to football games and stuff like that. So we found our own little group of misfits."

"What about Gina?" He'd heard her Facetiming with her closest friend a lot.

"She didn't go to my school. She went to a private one, like my brothers. But, anyway, after Jonathan and I lost our virginity together, then we did a lot of, you know, exploring."

Wonderful. He never should've asked.

"And then sophomore year things started to change. His parents were always on him about grades, but in tenth grade they really started pressuring him. He wasn't going to get into an Ivy League school if he didn't do research in the summer, win contests, publish articles. He didn't want to do any of that. He wanted to play with me. But they wouldn't let him. So, he started partying. And I, of course, didn't, so we fought a lot. Basically, after that first year together, the sex turned into him trying to get with me. Drunken hook-ups."

She watched his face, and he tried to keep it clear of emotion, even though he felt sick. He'd touched every inch of her; his tongue had traced her every curve. His hands knew her so well he could make her out in a stadium full of women in total darkness.

She was his.

Shit. He couldn't actually have her, but she still felt like his. And he hated the idea that some guy had treated her so badly. Some guy she'd stood by, given herself to.

When she slid off the chair, crawled across the bed to fall into his arms, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, his eyelids, his chin, he knew he hadn't hid his emotions.

"It was never like this." Pulling off the t-shirt, she brought his hand to her breast, and he cupped her tightly. "Nothing's like this."

He palmed her ass, dragging her leg across his lap so she straddled him. "Nothing." He doubted anything ever would be. How could it? He was hard again-which made no sense given the number of times they'd had each other the last three days. But he was leaving for the airport at the crack of dawn and wouldn't see her for five days. He needed to get his fill.

"How did he handle the break-up?"

She rocked on him, playing with his hair. "Not well. I'm pretty sure he's still waiting for me to get over it and make up with him."

Damn, but he loved the way she felt against him, loved the way her breasts bounced when she rocked. He pushed his dick between her pussy lips, sucking in a breath at the feel of her slick heat sliding along the length of him. "I'll bet he wants you back."

She gasped, her head tilting, hair spilling behind her. "I will never get back with him. He was drunk, so he wouldn't remember things the way I do. We fought all the time. I begged him to give up drinking, you know the drill. Huge drama, shouting, crying. Why wouldn't he quit drinking for me? Finally, right after New Year's, I ended it. Done. No more drama."

"Did he cheat on you?"

"Who knows what he did when he was wasted, right? I don't want to think about it ever again." She lowered her mouth to his, kissing, stroking, rocking, until she'd worked him into a frenzy all over again.

Hand on her ass, he lifted her, positioned his dick, and thrust inside.

"God, Dylan." She arched her back, hands gripping his thighs behind her, all that pretty hair falling like a silky veil down her back. Those gorgeous breasts bounced with her every move, and he had to sit up and taste them, lick them, suck them into his mouth.

She gasped, rolling forward to clutch him to her chest. Locked together like that, his dick enveloped in her tight, hot channel, her arms belted around him, he felt a kind of happiness, a completeness, he'd never felt before. Never even believed possible. He wanted her, all of her. Every single drop of her.

As his hips powered into her, as his dick swelled inside her, all he could feel was the need to protect her, be with her forever. He wanted to be there for every moment of her life-to fight for her and with her.

Fuck. He should not be thinking like that. About things he couldn't have.

He'd always accepted his lot in life. But now-for the first time-he wanted something else. So fiercely it made his heart seize up.

He'd always been so careful not to want the things he couldn't have-experience had taught him that lesson. But he had no control when it came to Nicole.

Maybe coming to Wilmington was one big colossal mistake.

They'd showered and packed, ready to leave for the airport at five. She'd said it was on her way to Connecticut, but he'd checked Google maps. It was completely out of her way. Which would make her even later to see her family.

"So, what's Thanksgiving like in the O'Donnell house?" he asked, as they clung to each other under the covers in the last few hours before the alarm went off.

"Oh, it's a big scene, my brothers and their entourages, all my dad's clients and friends."

"Does your dad have a girlfriend?"

"Not that I know of. He never brings women home."

"Why?" Wouldn't that have been nice, if his mom hadn't brought anyone home?

"From the moment he got me back, he's been very careful with me." She pushed up, looking at him. "Do you know where I got my love for baking?"

He shook his head, loving these moments with her. She looked so pretty in the soft light of the desk lamp. Her hair all shiny. Everything about her was so feminine and strong and real.

She was so fucking real.

"My dad."

"Really?" For some reason, he'd assumed it came from a good memory of her mom. He had a clear image of her as a dark-haired little girl, standing on a chair and watching her mom drop a spoon full of batter on a baking sheet.

"You can imagine, when I came back to live with him, I was really weird about food. I kind of hoarded."

Shit, he hated to hear how traumatized she'd been. His TV-land images of her had long ago been blown out of the water.

She sank down again, cuddling up against him, a finger tracing figure-eights on his chest. "He'd find food stored everywhere. Under couch cushions, in my drawers. There were certain things I really liked, and with my brothers and their friends over all the time, they literally ate everything in sight. So I'd hide the things I wanted. Sometimes I'd find them months later, all moldy and nasty. So it wasn't like I was starving and needed them."

Stroking the hair off her face, he said, "What did you really like?"

Her features turned pink. "Oh. I really liked cinnamon bread." The flush deepened. "I'd hide bags of it in my ballet bag at the back of my closet."

He smiled, but inside he ached for the little girl sneaking a loaf of bread into her room.

"Anyhow, my dad made a big thing about food. He took me shopping, stuffed the pantry and cupboards. But he didn't know how to cook. He could grill, so he'd make steaks and chicken and stuff for my brothers, but he didn't know how to make vegetarian dishes for me. So he started making pancakes and waffles for dinner. And that turned into biscuits and scones. Then pumpkin and banana breads. Really, cooking for him was baking. And while my brothers and their friends were always coming and going, on their way to a game or practice, the only real time I had alone with my dad was in the kitchen."

"He sounds like a great dad. I'm glad he was there for you."

Her arm belted around him, and she shifted so her breast pressed into his ribcage. He fucking loved that. "What about you? Since I can't be there with you, give me a picture of what it'll be like. Who're you going to see, where're you going to spend Thanksgiving?"

He wouldn't tell her the truth about his holiday, but he'd give her something. "Okay, well. I guess I'm like your brothers, always hanging out in a pack." It was how he'd kept himself safe from his mom's friends. "Mostly, I try and stay home as much as I can." Because nothing was more embarrassing than having his mom show up drunk, looking for him.

"Your friends don't party?"

"We can do that at my place."

Her finger stilled for a moment, and he figured it would take her a moment to work that one out. His mom, the supplier. But then she went back to touching him. "Do you have a traditional meal?"

Jesus, she had no idea. "Sometimes." Not since his grandpa had died, and the rest of his family had turned their backs on them.

He didn't want her to become uncomfortable, so he figured he should change the subject. "But when we do get out of the house, we head to the mountains. We hike, camp out."

"So, like, who picks you up from the airport? Who'll be waiting for you when you walk in the door?"

"Sawyer'll pick me up. He's my closest friend. We'll hit the diner on the way into town. Everyone'll be there, Brian, Craig, Paul. My girlfriend'll already be at my mom's-" Oh, shit. He knew it the moment the word came out of his mouth. He tried to pull Nicole back, but she jerked away from him. "Ex. My ex-girlfriend." Fuck.

Grabbing a pillow, she covered her body with it. "Your girlfriend?"

Jesus, she looked horrified. "My ex-girlfriend. I promise you, Kelsi's in my past."

Swear to God, she looked like he'd clubbed her, all stunned and dazed. "When did you break up?"

He didn't know how to answer that without sounding like a jerk. "August."

"August? You mean right before you came out here?"

He nodded.

"So you didn't break up. You went to college."

"It was over." He didn't want to explain his relationship with Kelsi.

"Did you love her?"

He shrugged. Any form of the truth would make her hate him. "I guess so."

"You guess so? How long were you with her?"

"Two years."

She flew off the bed, taking the pillow with her. In the pale lamp light, he could see fresh tears glistening on her cheeks as she bent to pick up her sweats.

"It's not what you think at all. We didn't have that kind of relationship. It wasn't about love."

"You were with her for two years. And you didn't break up with her. You just left for college."

"It's not...she doesn't..." How was he supposed to explain this shit to a good person?

"Have you been talking to her this whole time?" She stopped what she was doing, features contorted in pain.

"No."

Standing there in sweats and no top, her features froze in a mask of horror. "Are you going to be with her this week? Tonight? Is that-" Her hands covered her mouth, her nose, leaving only eyes full of horror.

He lunged for her, grabbing her wrist and tugging her onto the bed. She fought him, wrenching out of his grip. "Of course I'm not going to be with her. I told you, it's not like that. It was never like that." I want you.

"What was it like for two years with a girl you only stopped seeing because you weren't physically in the same state?"

"She gets me."

"She gets you? She gets you?"

"No, I mean my life. She gets my life."

"Is that because you talk to her? Let her in? Well, I'm sorry if I don't get you, Dylan, but you never tell me a damn thing." She swung away from him, scooping her bra off the floor and jamming her arm through one of the straps. "I can't believe this. You have a girlfriend. A real one."

What did she mean, a real one? "Kelsi's not..." You. "It was never like that." He scrambled out of the sheets, reaching for her.

"You never once, in all our time together, thought to mention you had a girlfriend?"

He thought about it. Again, it made him look like a total dick, but, no, he hadn't. "No." He looked away. "I don't think about her."

"You were with her for two years. You didn't have some fight or some big falling out. She didn't cheat on you. The only reason you're not sleeping with her tonight, right now, is because you left for college."

He blew out a breath, scrubbed the back of his neck. "Sunshine-"

"Do not Sunshine me. I am not your sunshine. I'm just another one of the bimbos in your line-up."

Anger roared through him. He'd had enough. "You are not a girl I fuck. Now, stop this. You're freaking out on me, I'm afraid I'm going to lose you, and I just need a goddamn minute to think." He let her go. "Can you give me that?"

She let out a shuddery breath. "Yes." She threw on a sweatshirt, then sat down on her desk chair.

Shit. How had he fucked up so badly? He took a few moments to pull his shit together. His heart felt like it might explode.

"Actually, no." She got up again, reaching for her shirt. "I'm going to take a shower and then we should go."

"You already showered. We should get some sleep."

"I'm not going to sleep, Dylan." She stopped what she was doing to pin him with a determined look. "There's nothing you can say right now to take away what I've just learned." She pulled off the sweats, took off her bra, and strode out of the room.

Dylan watched her go, listened as the shower turned on, and felt the cold hands of fear curl around his throat. Had he lost her?

Fuck, no. He couldn't lose her. Jesus. Not over this. What had just happened? Why had he called Kelsi his girlfriend?

He should go in there, force her to hear him out.

Right. Because what he had to say would win her over. Make him sound like the great guy he was.

"What is it about Kelsi that makes you let her in?"

He practically jumped out of his skin. She stood in the threshold, naked, water streaming down her body. She swiped hair off her face.