Before he slid inside, he clamped a hand at the back of her neck and brought their mouths together. Just when she relaxed against him, lost herself in the hot, wet heat of his mouth, he rammed his hips up into her as he brought her down hard on his erection, fusing their bodies. She gasped, tearing her mouth off his, and clung to the back of the couch as he filled her up completely. And then she started moving on him, every slide lighting up her nerves, the friction creating sparks that set her on fire. It felt so good she could barely breathe.

His hand came between them, a finger finding her clit and swirling. He brought his mouth to her ear. "I'm not gonna last, sunshine."

Clutching the back of the couch, her knees digging into the cushions at either side of his hips, she rocked hard and fast on him, electricity flashing across her skin.

"Holy fuck." His fingers curled into the flesh of her hips, little beads of perspiration popping out on his forehead.

And when the first swell of her orgasm rose, that hint of coalescence, she ground down on him. His legs went rigid as he braced his feet on the floor and his hands clamped down on her hips as he held her in place and thrust up into her. Her head tipped back, as a cry tore out of her throat.

He shouted, thrusting in hard, powerful jabs. "Jesus, fuck." When he finished, he bound her in his arms, tight to his chest, and breathed heavily in her ear. "Let's go upstairs, sunshine. I'm greedy for you."

Holding her to him tightly, he lifted off the couch, carrying her up the stairs. His mouth turned at her ear. "Thank you for giving me more."

A sharp sting hit her right in the center of her chest. She wanted to think he meant coming back to Wilmington a day early, but she suspected he meant in his life. Because he was so convinced they'd never last.

Damn him.

She'd prove him wrong.

Dylan woke up feeling cold. He opened his eyes to an expanse of white sheets nearly glowing in the shaft of moonlight from the crack in the curtains. He listened for sounds but heard nothing. They'd slept together every night since Thanksgiving. He wasn't used to waking up without her. Where had she gone?

He got up, put on his gym shorts, and checked the bathroom. Not a sign of her. He headed down the stairs, found the white light from the kitchen spilling onto the foyer tiles.

His girl stood at the granite island, brow taut with concentration as she swirled the spatula around the silver bowl. Sliding his hands around her waist, he breathed in her warm, sweet scent and kissed her cheek. "What's got you up?"

"I was thinking about lemon cupcakes."

He smiled. That was what she thought about at two in the morning.

"You know what's missing?"

"What, sunshine?" He slid his hands under her T-shirt so he could feel the warmth of her skin.

"You know chocolate lava cake? That yummy molten chocolate in the center?"

He nodded, kissing her neck, loving the softness of her skin.

"Imagine cutting into a springy, moist lemon cake and having warm lemon custard ooze out. A sprinkling of confectioner's sugar, and then a drizzle of raspberry sauce on the plate under it. Does that sound good?"

His hands pushed under the elastic of her panties and cupped her between the legs. The slick moisture on his fingers made his cock go hard and lodge into the crack of her ass.

"Oh," she said, all breathy.

"That sounds really good, sunshine. Are you making it now?"

"Not right now."

"That's good. So I don't need to turn off the stove or the oven?"

She shook her head, pressing back into him.

"Why are you thinking about lemon custard right now?" His hands pulled out of her panties, stroking up her stomach to cup her bare breasts. Holy fuck, the shot of lust that struck him just from the feel of her soft round curves, heavy in his hands. His dick surged between her legs, as he caressed those firm globes.

"I, um...it's hard to think when you're touching me like that."

He stepped away from her, smoothing her T-shirt down her stomach. Leading her to the bench seat, he sat down and pulled her onto his lap. "Talk to me?"

She sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck, dropping her forehead against his temple. Her silky hair brushed over his eyelashes, tickled his nose. He tucked it behind her ear.

"We're doing fish in lab today."

"Got any memories of slimy fish?"

"No." She smiled softly.

"Stinky fish?"

She turned to him, pressing a kiss to his mouth. "But I don't know what he's going to do to me."

"In front of the class?"

She nodded.

"What would freak you out the most?"

"The most? Well, the most would be if he makes me take a fish out of a tank and kill it."

"Seems unlikely. What's the second worst thing he could do?"

She smiled, running her finger along his bottom lip, making his skin tingle. "Make me fillet it. You know, chop off the head, cut off the scales."

"That seems less unlikely. Can you do it?"

"I mean, I don't know if I can do it without getting sick to my stomach, but I will do it if he asks me. It's just that I think he's more interested in getting me to throw up. He seems to get a perverse pleasure out of my discomfort."

"What're you worried about?"

She kissed his cheek, rubbing her nose softly over his skin. "I honestly don't think anyone gets me better than you do. It's the weirdest thing. But, um, I guess I'm worried that he already knows he's not choosing me for the program, and he's just getting his kicks out of watching me squirm."

Dylan thought about it and figured she could be right.

"If I knew for sure he'd made his decision, I wouldn't let him treat me this way. But I don't know, so I have to go along with it. And that sucks."

"He's an ass if he's already decided. It's only December, and you're working hard to overcome your anxieties. He sees that. Is it easier to handle meat now?"

"Yes."

"See? You're acclimating."

"Gina agrees with James, that I should tell him about my childhood."

"You said he didn't want to hear your personal stories."

"Yeah, but he's deliberately playing with me, so they think if he understood why I get upset, he'd back off."

"What do you think?"

"I think a guy who would try to get a girl to throw up in class isn't capable of compassion, so it would only give him more reason to toy with me." She shifting, leaning back against the wall, stretching her legs across his lap. His hand slid between her thighs, and she turned just a little, tilting towards him. "Tell me what you think."

"I don't think he sees a spoiled princess because that's not who you are. I think he sees determination. Because that's what anyone looking at you would see. He might not understand your reaction in class, but he's fascinated by your response to it. You're not throwing tantrums, and you're not refusing to touch raw meat. You clearly have an aversion, but you're fighting through it."

She looked anguished.

"Hey." He drew her closer, scanning her features to figure out what she was feeling. "What did I say?"

"You said everything right. I just..." She kissed him, cupping his jaw and stroking her thumbs over his cheeks. "I don't know what to do with all these feelings. For you. You won't let me in all the way, so I have to hold myself back, you know? But then you say things like that, and you..." She looked down to where his hand gripped her inner thigh. "You touch me the way you do, and God, Dylan, what am I supposed to do?"

"I'm here. I'm in."

"Yes, but you tell me all the time that you can't really be with me, that it's just temporary. It's like you're on loan here until your real life calls you back."

"Well, there's truth in that. But I'm with you here and now." He tipped her chin, forcing her to look at him, to see he was giving her all he could. "Right now, I'm with you all the way."

"I know." She looked away, and he couldn't help the rush of frustration that tore through him. In a perfect world would he give her more? Fuck, yeah. But in his world? This was all he had to give.

But he wanted to finish their conversation, not worry about things he couldn't change. "So, when are his office hours?"

"Um..." She looked pensive. "Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. He's in from eleven to noon."

He did a quick scan of their schedules in his mind. "We're both free tomorrow at eleven, so let's go then."

"You're going with me?"

He brushed the hair off her face, cupping her chin to look in her eyes. "I won't go in with you, but I'll walk with you and wait outside."

Tears glistened but didn't spill.

"What, sunshine? You're killing me here."

"No one's ever..." Her breath hitched and she blinked back the tears. "You said, We, like we're in it together. I've never had that before. I just...sometimes I feel so close to you. And it feels so good, like I'm not alone."

"You're not alone." She had a great family, great friends. "You've always had close friends."

"Gina's the best, but she's got her own life, her own issues."

"So do I." Like he had to remind her.

"Yeah, but from the moment I met you, when you didn't even know me, you claimed me. Like we became a we right then. I've never been a we."

"You were with Jonathan for almost four years." He didn't know why he kept pressing when he felt it, too. But he did want to press. He wanted to know, because he couldn't explain it either.

"He never looked out for me like you do. I took care of him. Helping him fight his demons."

"I battle demons."

"Yes, but you do it while holding my hand."

Fuck, oh, fuck, her words struck deep. He'd never had anyone's hand to hold. Not ever. Jesus, she was right. From the moment he'd met her in the hallway outside their rooms at the Scholar House he'd felt something-a startling awareness. But when she'd stood up for him on the lawn? From that moment on, they'd been connected-they'd been holding hands.

"I love the way we're in this together," she said. "It's like we're both strong people, handling all the crazy stuff in our lives on our own, and then we find each other and it's such a relief to have someone to just...be with you while you go through it."

Emotion surged so hard and fast it made his heart hurt. He kissed her, his hand sliding up higher between her thighs, feeling the heat and dampness. He couldn't stop himself from pushing a finger under the elastic of her panties, slipping into her slick core. She squirmed restlessly on his lap, rubbing against his erection. His hips jerked up, grinding into her warm skin. Fuck, he wanted her so badly. All the damn time.

She shuddered in his arms when he found her clit and stroked it. "Take off your shirt," he said, though it came out more of a growl.

Sitting back, she tore it off, arching her back. He greedily pulled her nipple in with his tongue. God, she was so responsive, the way she moaned and writhed on his lap.

He let his thumb swirl around her clit, slid his fingers deep inside so he could feel her slick heat. When her body rolled and she let out a breathy moan, he knew she was getting close. And when she sucked in a breath, when her legs straightened, her toes curled into the cushion, when her nipple tightened into a hard bead, he knew she was coming apart. He pulled his mouth off her so he could watch her features tighten into sheer ecstasy, as her body shuddered.

And then she collapsed against him, draping herself over him, and he felt her heartbeat against his own.

"Upstairs, now." Wild with need, he practically lifted her off his lap.

She got up, grabbing her T-shirt. When she didn't put it on, he snatched it, shoved it over her head. "Cover up." And then he grabbed her hand and led her up the stairs. Shutting the bedroom door behind him, he flicked on the desk lamp because he wanted to see her-them-joined in every way possible. She tossed off her shirt, shucked off her panties, and started crawling onto the bed. He grabbed her hips, pulled her back, and slid inside her.

He thought of what Kelsi had said, how he held himself back around Nicole. And maybe he did. He figured his white trash upbringing informed everything he did, including how he fucked.

But Nicole wasn't his Disney Princess. And she hadn't balked at anything they'd done together. She'd been in it all the way-just as wild, just as frenzied. And so he tilted her ass higher, held her in place, and thrust into her. When her back arched, when her fingers curled into the duvet, he knew. It wasn't white trash to love her the way he did. It was just them. She made him crazy. She made him let go completely.

And it was such a relief to just be himself, act purely out of need and want, that he started pounding into her, shutting down his mind, immersing himself in the intense heat and tight, wet glove of her pussy, the sight of that gorgeous ass, the cheeks shaking with abandon at his every thrust. He squeezed her flesh, loved the firm feel of it, so he did it again and again. And, Jesus Christ, he'd never felt anything so good, so insanely erotic in his life.

He leaned over her, his chest on her back, and his palm splayed out on her pelvis, holding her tightly against him, his middle finger sliding into her folds and immediately finding her clit.

She moaned, her ass hitching higher, thrusting back harder, pushing tight against him so he could slam into her in tight, short thrusts, until he fucking exploded inside her.

Nothing had ever felt so good. Nothing. His cock pulsed, a never-ending orgasm. Jesus fucking Christ.

She pushed forward, flattening on the mattress, panting. "Holy cow."

He had no words. Collapsing beside her, he dragged her up against him, and closed his eyes.

Just as he drifted off, fear shimmered through him like heat radiating off asphalt. The heavy weight of sleep lifted with the realization of how attached he was getting to her. Not good.

What would happen when he had to let her go? I don't have to think about that now.

Not yet anyway.