“I have a condo in Minneapolis,” I say. “But my mom wanted us all together for the weekend, starting with dinner this evening.”

“It’s only…” She looks at her watch. “Three in the afternoon—what time do you eat dinner?”

“Honey.” I sweep her into my arms, weird crunchy rain jacket and all. “Dinner’s at seven—that’s not the problem. The problem is that my plans for you can’t be rushed.”

Her cheeks turn a little bit pink. “Oh,” she says softly.

I lean in, tilt her chin upward, and do what I’ve needed to do for these past few weeks. I press my lips to hers, long and slow, savoring every moment of her skin on mine.

Neither of us is in much of a hurry; we have hours until dinner, the house is silent, and she is finally mine.

Andi has other plans for how things are going to go, however. She nips at my lip, pulling my head hard in toward hers. A second later she’s lost her jacket and both of her hands are wrapped into my hair. I meant to get it cut before the wedding, but at the moment, I’m glad I haven’t. I like her fingers holding tight with fervor.

“Slow down, we’ve got time, baby,” I tell her. “We’re going to do this right.”

“There’s time to do it right later,” she says, a playful sparkle in her eye. “I haven’t had sex in a month, and—”

Her eyes widen suddenly, and she looks up at me as my hands slide under her shirt and luxuriate in the softness of her skin.

“I didn’t mean anything by that,” she says quickly. “If you’ve had sex, or whatever, I mean—we’re just friends. I just didn’t have the opportunity, I guess—very busy with school, you know, and—”

“Andi.” I smooth her hair. “There hasn’t been anyone else for me, either. I didn’t want anyone but you, and I still don’t.”

“Ryan,” she looks at me through her lashes. “I didn’t want anyone either. I think…”

“What?”

She shakes herself out of whatever she was about to say, smiling instead. “Never mind. Where were we?”

I’m about to argue with her, demand to know what she was going to say. I have a feeling the very same words were on the tip of my tongue, but then her hand slides down the inside of my pants, and she inhales as she strokes me. My mind is now blank.

“Shit,” I mumble, unable to control the words coming out of my mouth. “I need you, sweetheart—so damn bad.”

“Then we’ll do it right, later,” she says, her breath coming in gasps. “I need you too.”

Her chest heaves beneath that V-neck, her breasts pert, in need of attention—which is fine by me, since I’ve missed her boobs. Desperately.

Our pants are off seconds later and I have her spread on my high school bed. If I’d known back then there’d one day be a girl as hot as Andi in my bed, I probably never would’ve left my mattress.

Back in high school, I was quieter, a background player. The looks, the girls, the money came later in life, once I matured in college. It would’ve blown my high-school mind to learn I’d be here now, like this, with her.

She lays sprawled on the bed, her hair in waves around my pillow. Somewhere along the way on our journey home, the thing holding her hair in place got lost, and thank God for that. She looks striking like this, her hair loose and free.

I move over her, holding myself up with one arm while I tease along her panty line with the other hand. I can feel through the fabric that she’s ready; I can smell her, and I need to touch her.

The moan that comes from her throat as I slip my finger past the fabric sends a surge of desire pulsing through my veins. I lower myself onto her, just barely brushing skin to skin, needing to feel our naked bodies touch.

She holds me tighter, closer, arching her hips to meet my fingers. Judging by the sounds she’s making, she’s close already. Her hips buck higher.

“Baby…” I say, and then I feel her clench around my fingers.

I swallow my words, too intent on watching the wave of pleasure wash over her face as she spirals into me, her fingers tearing at my back, my hair, my skin, my—

Suddenly, everything is wrong, and both Andi and I realize it at the exact same moment.

Footsteps.

Right outside my bedroom door.

The handle is opening, we’re scrambling to get decent, the door is swinging open.

“No,” Andi murmurs, diving for covers. “Oh no.”

Lawrence strides right through the doorway without bothering to think. He’s engrossed in looking at the screen of his phone while I’m shoving blankets around Andi left and right.

“Asshole!” I yell at him. “Get out.”

“Crap!” Andi’s scrambling to pull the comforter over her face, and I’m scooping pillows on top of her for some reason. I don’t even know why; I’m just trying to protect her from my dickhead brother.

“God, Ryan!” Lawrence covers his eyes with his hand and backs out of the room as quickly as he entered. “You can’t wait two damn seconds to take your pants off?”

“What the hell happened to knocking?” I stand up and check myself out briefly in the mirror to make sure I’m not flashing my brother. I have my jeans on, my face is red, and my hair is mussed. I probably have scratches down my back, but I don’t care. Once I’m sure Andi’s covered, I pull the door open a hair. “What did you think you were doing? Didn’t we have this conversation about knocking in like, the fifth fucking grade?”

“I just came to say hi to your friend,” Lawrence said. “I yelled up the stairs, figured you didn’t hear me.”

“Of course we didn’t hear you. We were occupied.”

“I see that now.”

I run a hand over my face. I don’t really care all that much, except Andi seems mortified. Any other girl, and it wouldn’t have been a big deal—bunnies tend to like that sort of attention—but Andi isn’t a bunny; she is the polar opposite.

Lawrence gives me a little smirk and a thumbs up, his dickhole personality returning. “I suppose I’ll leave you two alone to finish what you started.”

“Go away.”

I slam the door shut and turn to face Andi. She’s sitting up in bed, the covers pulled up to her chest. She’s doing a magnificent job of pretending she’s not bothered.

“I’m so sorry,” I say. “I should’ve known—”

“It was an accident,” she says with a wave of her hand. Her nonchalance belies the reddish tinge around her neck. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I should’ve locked the door.”

“I said don’t worry about it.” She shrugs. “I’m a big girl. If I say I’m fine, I mean it. The only problem I see is that, once again, you made me feel quite excellent, and you didn’t get the chance to finish.”

“How are you still single?” I ask, moving across the room. “I could marry you tomorrow, Andi.” I’m half kidding, but she seems unsure of whether or not it’s a joke. “Relax,” I tell her. “Kidding.”

“I knew that,” she says. “Anyway, why don’t you lock the door, get over here, and take your pants off?”

“About that marriage proposal,” I say, letting my hand cup her cheek as I swoop in for a kiss. “Maybe I’m not kidding.”

She nips my lip. “Sounds good to me.”

I clear my throat. We’re in dangerous territory.

“I’m kidding,” she says. “Relax.”

“Me too,” I say, the tension easing. “But really, we can wait. There’s plenty of time tonight.”

“Is there?” She lets the covers fall from around her shoulders, exposing silky white breasts in a lacy purple bra. One strap has slid down her shoulder. “Are you sure?”

I reach for her strap, bringing it to the correct position on her shoulder. It’s a trap—her hand snakes out, snaps at the waistband of my jeans, and instantly I’m ready.

“You sneak,” I say, looking down.

“I thought he might feel differently,” she says, nodding toward my crotch. “What do you say we head back to the bed?”

“How can I resist an offer like that?”

She leans backward, spread like a beautiful, exquisite platter before me, filled with all the delicacies of the world. I start to follow her, drawn toward her figure, when she raises a finger and shakes it at me.