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  His face lit up. “Tell me what to do.”

  I walked him through the basics, showed him my folders of music clips. We started with a thrumming bass line, a sick beat that got us grooving quickly. I set it on loop in its track, and we flipped through some more sounds.

  When we got to a weird plopping sample, he laughed. “Seriously ?”

  I shrugged, stifling the urge to giggle. “You never know when you need a plop.”

  “Maybe if you’re doing a diarrhea commercial jingle.”

  I slugged his arm, and he grimaced, rubbing the spot. “Gross.”

  Over the next couple of hours, we worked our way through my samples. Daniel had a surprisingly good ear for music. I’d never composed a song with another person before—but it helped that we weren’t worried about being fancy or intricate, so the pressure was off. We just layered in and spliced pieces and had fun with it. The end result was actually not too bad. I even burned him a copy on a disc so he could take our “masterpiece” home with him.

  When eight rolled around, I grimaced. My stomach gave a large grumbling groan. “Crap, I’m sorry. I forgot to make us something. And I have to head to work soon.” There would be times when I got so caught up in my music that I didn’t eat until hours after mealtime. But I couldn’t afford to be late to The Mask, despite the effort it took to drag myself away from Daniel’s company.

  His face was mock solemn. “And here you promised me artisan pizza. Straight from the freezers of Italy.”

  I gave him a smarmy smirk. “I’m sorry I’ve let you down.” I stood, stretched the kinks in my neck.

  “So when do we cut a record deal?” he asked. “This song is suh-weet.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, I’ll get right on it.” But secretly, the thought tingled something in my head. It would be so fun to do a record—even indie. To make my own music and share it with others.

  And it would also cost an arm and a leg. Plus take away from my school and work time. Not in the cards for me.

  Daniel stood, and his hand reached up to cup the back of my head. His thumb caressed the base of my skull, sending cascades of pleasure across my flesh. I couldn’t help but melt against him. “I know you have to work, but I don’t want to go. I’ve had a great time with you today, and it’s so hard to drag myself away.”

  The raw honesty in his voice undid me. I’d never had a man so blatantly honest, so straightforward with me before. It disarmed me, tore down my usual defenses. I spent my life building my walls. Protecting myself. But with his steady words, his hot kisses, he was stripping me bare.

  He leaned down and took my mouth in a heated, possessive kiss. His other hand snaked around my waist and tugged me close. I opened my mouth and breathed him in. He tasted faintly of Coke, faintly of him. His cologne wrapped around me, and every sense went into overload.

  I gripped his shirt, filled with a grinding, aching need for him. I desired Daniel, wanted to strip him and lick the divots on the sides of his hips where his thighs met his torso. I’d seen that spot at the lake from his low-slung shorts. I wanted him right now.

  And he wanted me too. He was hard, pressed against my belly. His arousal was strong and evident. I rubbed into it, and he groaned in my mouth. His breath was warm and damp, and it sent spirals of fire coursing through my chest, down to my aching lower belly.

  “Oh God, Casey,” he breathed. “You’re driving me crazy.” His hand threaded in my hair, and he tilted my head so he could take my mouth deeper. His tongue thrust in, slid along mine, and I rubbed my breasts on his firm chest, nipples beading, my sex swelling and throbbing in response.

  I didn’t know how long we stood there in my room, kissing and touching. Though his firm hand on my back slid down to cup my ass, to draw me closer to his rock-hard erection, he didn’t push it any further. Eventually we drew apart, panting, eyes glazed and mouths swollen. His hand was still threaded in my hair, fingers massaging my scalp.

  He pressed his forehead to mine. “You mix me all up inside,” he finally said, then gave a weak laugh. “And I never saw you coming.”

  “Me neither,” I admitted.

  If I were completely honest with myself, I was glad he’d come into my life. More than glad—honored, even. Daniel saw something in me no one else saw, made me want to feel vibrant. Made me want to just . . . be.

  I walked him to the door. With a final parting kiss—this one sweet and soft—he left. I closed it behind him and kept my back to it a long time, unable to drive away the wide grin on my face.

  Chapter 14

  I groaned. “This poem is the creepiest thing I’ve ever read.”

  Daniel tucked his pencil behind his ear, grabbed the table and tugged his chair right beside mine. “Whatcha readin’?”

  I shoved the textbook toward him. “It’s for Brit Lit, my other elective class this semester. We’re in the poetry section of the course.” I pointed at “Porphyria’s Lover” by Robert Browning. Soft light from the large library windows spilled across the table, splashed on the page and illuminated the haunting words.

  Daniel read it to himself. He blinked, then said, “Wow. So the guy choked her.”

  “With her own hair.” I shivered. Who thought of those kinds of things? And why was our prof making us read them? “Why would he do that?” Our class was supposed to write a short essay about why the narrator killed the woman.

  We sat in silence for a moment, mulling it over.

  “It’s apparent in the beginning of the poem that she came to him despite whatever was keeping them apart—like class issues.” Daniel turned his eyes to me.

  I lost myself in them for a moment, and his smile widened. “Um.” I cleared my throat. Focus. “So maybe the narrator was just desperate to keep her there so she wouldn’t leave him again.”

  “He really seems to believe she loves him.” The words, spoken softly, ignited something in my belly.

  “Thanks. That gives me a starting point.”

  Daniel slipped his hand over and squeezed my fingers, enveloping my hand in his warmth. “Glad to help.”

  We remained clasping each other as he read from a history text and I studied the poem once more, through the viewpoint of a desperate lover who would stop at nothing to keep his love with him. But after a moment, my thoughts began to wander. The background noise of the midday library crowd faded away.

  Daniel and I had been spending a lot of time together over the last couple of weeks. It was technically fall now, my favorite season, and though late summer temperatures had clung tenaciously to the last few days, the days were growing shorter.

  I couldn’t help my anticipation. Something about fall felt like new beginnings to me, as strange as it sounded. Crisp air, sweaters, apple cider, pumpkin spice, brightly colored leaves. I was excited to share all of those things with Daniel.

  The soft, regular puffs of his breath reached my ears. He was completely focused on his book, which gave me a chance to open my senses to him, breathe in his ocean scent. Hear the scratching of his pen as he took notes with his other hand—for once, being a leftie came in handy, as we could both hold hands and still write.

  The more time I spent with him, the more time I wanted to be around him. Studying. Watching a goofy movie. Strolling around campus. Drinking coffee. Talking about philosophy or which candy tasted the worst or whatever. Didn’t matter, so long as he was around.

  I cared about Daniel. Really cared.

  The thought made my cheeks flush, and I fought the telltale stiffening in my body. It wasn’t that I was ashamed of my feelings, because strangely enough, I’d grown . . . used to it. Comfortable, even.

  But I was keeping secrets from him, big secrets about myself. And that gap was getting wider every day. I felt an ever-increasing sense of guilt mingling in on the fringes of my conversations. Daniel thought he knew me, but he didn’t. How could he when I had basically severed the first thirteen years of my life from my history?

  I knew him, though. I knew that when he was
in deep concentration mode, like now, he’d tap the bottom of his pencil on the table in cycles of threes. And he’d nibble on his lip and sometimes mumble under his breath.

  Daniel loved water. He was afraid of clowns, funny enough. He couldn’t get enough lunchmeat piled on his sandwiches and always asked for double on subs.

  He made my heart flutter like mad whenever he walked in a room.

  Oh, I was falling for this man. I could tell myself it was a fun, tiny crush as much as I wanted, but he had slipped inside my veins before I’d even realized it. He’d become a part of me, and I needed him.

  “Still having trouble?” he suddenly asked.

  “Huh?” I glanced over at him, hoping my raw emotions weren’t written all over my face.

  “You’ve been staring blankly at that page for several minutes now.” He shoved his shoulder against mine in a chummy gesture. “Not that hard to understand, is it?”

  “Oh.” I chuckled weakly. “No. It’s creepy, but I’m getting it now.”

  He dropped his pencil in the seam of his book and reached a hand up to cup my face. “In this light, I feel like I can see right into you.” His own eyes were so open and honest with me. Genuine openness as opposed to my fakeness.

  Shame filled my belly, hot and uncomfortable. I knew him so well, yet he knew nothing about me. Not the things that had messed me up until I was just a shell of a person. “Daniel,” I whispered. “I’m not—I mean, I don’t know how to—”

  “Look, I know you’re . . . reserved.” He paused, and the smile slid from his face. But he didn’t release his hold on my face. His thumb stroked the apple of my cheek. “You’re still a mystery. But I learn more about you every day.”

  I wanted him to. Oh, I did. But I also feared the hell out of it. Yes, the day would come where he’d eventually learn everything. And somehow I knew that once he did, that would be the beginning of the end. Because every conversation would become more and more stilted until there was nothing left for us to discuss. Daniel would censor himself, careful to not mention parents, or suicide, or alcohol, or mentally ill people. Eventually he’d stop talking to me at all.

  And that would finish us for good. We’d dissolve like a handful of salt in a pool, scattering and fading into nothingness.

  It had happened to me already with the rest of my extended family. I was the person they were afraid to come to now, had been for years. They were afraid my darkness would rub off on their small, comfortable corners. That somehow, if they cracked my chest open and really peered inside, they’d see . . . themselves in there.

  My personal hell could happen to anyone. And that scared the shit out of everyone.

  Which was why I always kept my damn mouth shut.

  I pulled out of his grip. A frown knitted his brows, and he dropped his hand.

  “I wish you’d open up to me,” he said. Though I could tell he tried to keep his words steady, there was a thread of pain in there. Pain mingled with growing frustration.

  “I’m not ready yet,” I said. My words were quiet but steady, and I was proud of myself for not breaking down, though the hard knot forming in my chest wouldn’t go away.

  I wanted him. I was afraid of him.

  But somehow I knew Daniel wasn’t going anywhere. All I could do was hold on and try to enjoy these sweet moments with him while they lasted. Before everything changed on us.

  I closed my book, then closed his and stood. I reached my hand out toward him. “It’s stuffy in here,” I declared, lifting my chin and giving him the biggest smile I could muster. “I’m done studying for the day.” Probably a mistake—I really needed to work on this essay—but I’d do it tonight.

  Not now. Not when I could drop my shackles for a few hours and feel free with Daniel.

  After a moment he took my hand and though there was a lingering edge of wariness in his eyes, he stood too. I released a lungful of breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “Where do you want to go?” he asked.

  I gave a casual shrug. “Anywhere. Oh, I know. Let’s get some ice cream while it’s still nice enough outside to enjoy it.”

  Blessedly, warmth came back to his face, and his smile melted the edges of my deep-seated fear away. “Ice cream sounds amazing right now.”

  We gathered our things and headed out of the library. Our pinkies brushed against each other and he took my hand, winding his fingers through mine. It felt so right; our hands fit perfectly.

  I leaned my body closer to his, and as we strolled across the campus grounds in the midafternoon sun, I stood taller. However long this lasted, I could take comfort that at least now, for a while, this man wanted to be with me. He found something in me no one else had seen.

  And though he might not know it, I could sense my barriers cracking apart every day.

  “I can’t possibly eat one more bite of potato salad. Oh my God.” Daniel moaned and lay back on the blanket, cupping his hands over his still-flat belly, despite his grumbles. “I’m so full, my pants are literally going to explode off of me.”

  “As my English prof would point out, you mean figuratively,” I said in a prim tone. “If your pants literally exploded, we’d be in a world of legal trouble, since this is a public park. And as punishment for your grammar error, I’m making you eat the rest of this potato salad.” I scooped a heaping spoonful out of our bowl and shoved it toward his face.

  He sat up and mock glared at me. Dappled sunlight from the setting sun spilled across the dark mop of his head, hit his deep green irises. Before I could react, he grabbed the spoon and flung it, loaded potato salad and all, across the park. “Oh, crap. Sorry, it slipped.”

  “Litterer!” I cried out, looking around like I was seeking a police officer. Not that there was anyone else around us except for a couple of young kids playing on the swing set nearby.

  Daniel tackled me to the ground and dug his fingers against my right side, where I was superticklish. “Narc!” he said, laughing hysterically.

  “You jerk!” I swatted up at him and scrambled to get away. I stood and wiped the bottom of my shorts with a huff. “That was a perfectly good spoon.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I’ll buy you another.”

  “It was part of a set.” I tugged my tank top down to make sure my abdomen was covered. Thankfully, Daniel had stayed away from my scarred side.

  “I’ll buy you six, then.”

  “You have an answer for everything, don’t you.” I chuckled.

  He stood, peering down at me. His eyes were light and dancing, and my heart hadn’t felt this light in a couple of days—not since my moodiness back in the library. His hand slid along my unscarred side again, but instead of torture-tickling me, his fingers slipped and danced over my tank top. The warmth of his touch still seared me, despite the barrier.

  “Not everything,” he murmured, his attention turning to my mouth. His fingers tightened incrementally on my hip. Something shifted then, sexual tension crackling in the air between us.

  I automatically licked my lips, and his eyes flared. I stepped closer. I needed to taste his mouth, right now.

  “Oooooooooh!” a high-pitched kid’s voice said from behind me. “They’re gonna kiss!”

  I closed my eyes as a light flush stole over my cheeks.

  Daniel’s mouth hovered close enough to me that I could feel his breath huffing against my skin. “I need to kiss you,” he said, and the raw edge in his tone had my eyes flying open.

  Yes, the need was right there, unmasked, unashamed, completely bared to me. I felt my body respond, my core tightening, heart thudding, hands trembling.

  I nodded, leaned my face up. My mouth already hungered for his.

  He brushed his mouth against mine, a butterfly touch that didn’t satisfy the growing pulse in me. “Not here,” he said, his words barely a whisper. “I want you alone.”

  Alone. The ache I heard in that one word sent shivers of anticipation across my skin. My flesh burst into thousands of vibrant tingles. I gave a mu
te nod. I wanted it too.

  We packed up our picnic and stuck the remains into the bags. My fingers fumbled, and I just started cramming everything in. His words echoed in my head.

  I didn’t know what was going to happen, but I knew I had to be alone with this man. Had to feel him better. Maybe touch his bare skin, taste him.

  Our ride back toward campus was quiet. The air hummed with unspoken desire, flowing and thickening with every passing mile.

  “My place,” I said in a husky whisper. Wow, I was almost embarrassed by how much longing was in my voice. “Um, Megan’s out tonight.” There was another Thursday night frat party she was attending with Bobby. So the place would be ours for hours.

  Alone.

  Daniel shot me a side glance and nodded. His hand reached over and stroked my bare thigh. Heat exploded in my lower belly as something unfurled in me. Though I knew it wasn’t ever going to happen, suddenly I wanted his hands everywhere on me. Every stroke of his fingers across my inner thigh was making me throb, my panties dampening. It was ridiculous how he drew this longing out of me.

  Daniel pulled into the parking lot, and we made our way to the apartment, our pace a little faster than usual. I keyed the door, and once I was in the dark room, him right on my heels, he closed it behind me, then nudged my back to the nearest wall. One hand wrapped around my lower back and the other cupped my neck.

  He tilted my head and possessed my mouth in a kiss that scorched me to my bones. I gasped and gripped his shoulders, drawing him deeper, inhaling him fully into my lungs, into every cell of my body.

  “You taste so good,” he breathed out, tongue swiping against mine. “I just want to kiss you for hours.”

  His lean torso pressed against my curves, my breasts pressing hard to his chest. My nipples beaded into tight, almost painful nubs, and I groaned. I rubbed against him; his erection was evident as he pinned me tight against the wall.

  Daniel’s mouth slid down my throat, nipping and licking and sucking flesh. Tingles cascaded across me in growing waves. I grew wetter, my breasts full and heavy. His hand slid up my back. He paused, pulled away from me. His thumb was resting against the underside of my right breast.