“You don’t know what you’re asking for. I could change into a wolf at the full moon and eat you whole,” I said lightly. Trying to make a joke. It wasn’t a very good one.

Beckett didn’t laugh.

“I know exactly what I’m asking for.”

He moved closer again, closing the gap. “Even if you turned into a wolf.”

How could I say no to him? Ever?

“Sure,” I finally said.

“Sure?” Beckett’s lips curved upward, his eyes twinkling.

“That’s what I said,” I answered with a shrug. I was trying to act nonchalant. I was a really bad liar. My eyes twinkled back.

“That wasn’t the most enthusiastic response I have ever heard. Do you need some time to think about it?” Beckett was laughing now. He knew what I was thinking. What I was feeling.

Because he just got me.

“Hmm, maybe you’re right and I should think about it some more,” I kidded. My stomach was in knots. My hands were still sweating. I prayed that my deodorant was still working.

But I was smiling.

Really smiling.

“Time’s up, Corin. The ‘sure’ stands. And now that I think about it, it’s the best word I’ve ever heard.” He seemed so happy. It was infectious. It made me forget about my misgivings. Forget about my fears.

Forget about everything but being here with him.

Then he was on his feet and pulling me to mine.

Before I could ask him what he was doing, Beckett was kissing me.

Really kissing me.

The kind of kisses that made you forget sense and reason.

The kind that made you forget where you were.

The kind of kiss that you never came back from.

Ever.

And it was then that I started to swim.

Chapter 14

Corin

“What am I going to wear? Mr. Bingley, help!”

I threw another shirt onto my bed in exasperation. Mr. Bingley sat on my armchair licking his ass and giving me disdainful looks. I was clearly interrupting his naptime and he was not happy.

“I should have let Tamsin have you.” I glared at him and he gave me his version of kitty stink eye before resuming his butt licking.

I wasn’t the kind of girl to change her clothes a million times. I typically didn’t bother with my hair and it took an act of God to have me apply any makeup. And shaving? Maybe once in an ice age.

But tonight was different.

Tonight I was going on an honest-to-goodness date.

And not with just any Joe Schmo.

I was going on a date with Beckett Kingsley.

My good buddy, lasagna hater, green-tea-drinking Beckett Kingsley.

Not only were we going on a date, but it was most likely going to be a date with kissing. Hopefully lots of kissing. And that made me tingle all over.

I was a twenty-five-year-old woman trying to suppress the urge to run around the room shrieking and squealing like a teenager at her first boy band concert.

“Ahh!” I screeched, startling Mr. Bingley, who was now officially pissed off. He jumped off the bed and sauntered out into the living room where he could sleep without my random bursts of crazy.

I looked in the mirror at the navy blue dress I had tried on and winced. It looked like something a grandmother would pick out. What was I smoking when I paid money for this thing?

I pulled it over my head and stood in the middle of the room in just my bra and underwear. At least I liked my undergarments. They were a cute pair with pink polka dots. No granny panties tonight.

I sort of wanted to put on my robe and crawl back into bed. This whole getting-ready-to-go-out-with-Beckett thing was way too stressful.

I hadn’t slept at all the night before. My mind was racing through so many different things. I couldn’t calm down long enough to drift off.

But there hadn’t been any panic attacks. It was the first time in ages I hadn’t experienced one during those dark hours.

My doorbell rang.

What?

I looked at the clock and realized it was already 7:30.

So that meant it was Beckett on the other side of the door.

Shit.

I looked down at my half-naked body.

Shit!

And then I started freaking out.

“I’ll be right there!” I yelled.

Should I let him in?

But I was practically naked!

I couldn’t let him see me like this!

Maybe I should own it. Shake my hips and let him get a look at the goods.

Like that would ever happen.

Crap, what was I going to wear?

I grabbed a pair of jeans from my floor and wiggled them on, not really paying attention to which ones they were.

I reached into my closet and pulled the closest shirt off the rack. I tied my hair into a ponytail and slipped on a comfortable pair of ballet flats.

I hoped Beckett hadn’t planned on five-star dining because I was dressed more for a McDonalds milkshake before hanging with the bowling league.

“Sorry,” I said, out of breath, opening the door and letting Beckett inside.

“I was starting to think I needed to break in and make sure you hadn’t gotten stuck in the toilet or something.” Beckett looked damn near perfect in a dark pair of jeans and button-up blue shirt the same color as his eyes.

He had even gotten a haircut. Way to make me feel like a total underachiever in the getting ready department, buddy.

“Looks like you cut yourself,” I said, indicating the piece of toilet paper stuck to his chin.

“Fuck. I forgot about that,” he muttered, pulling it off, looking embarrassed.

“You should have left it there. It’s cute,” I teased, putting on my black wool coat.

“You ready?” he asked.

“As I’ll ever be.” I gave him a wide smile and he laughed.

“I’m not taking you to your death by firing squad. You could act a bit more excited.”

I jumped up and down, clapping my hands together. “OMG, Beck! I can’t wait!” I gasped.

“Is that better?” I asked, closing my apartment door behind me and locking it.

“Much.” Beckett leaned down and I swear he was checking out my ass.

“Excuse me, but what in the hell are you doing?” I demanded.

“Are you aware that the Cheshire cat is on your right butt cheek?”

I craned my body to get a look at what he was talking about. And sure enough, there was a bright purple patch with the damn Cheshire cat on my derriere.

“I must have picked up the wrong jeans,” I groaned. These were my hanging-out-doing-laundry jeans. Not meant to be seen by anyone but myself and the cat.

“I was in a rush. I couldn’t figure out what to wear. It was stressful,” I tried to explain, pulling my coat down over my feline-covered bum.

“The last thing I want is to stress you out, Cor-Cor.”

I smacked his arm. “I thought I warned you about using that damn nickname,” I threatened.

“I show up with toilet paper stuck to my face and you have a cat on your butt. I think we make a pretty awesome pair,” Beckett snickered, unlocking his car.

I started to open the passenger side door when he stopped me. “No! Wait!”

“Uh. Is there a problem?” I asked, holding my hands up and backing away from the vehicle.

Beckett hurried around to my side of the car and opened the door. “Now you can get in.”

“I’m quite capable of opening my own door, Beckett. I was born after 1950, you know.”

I got in and buckled my seat belt, tickled more than I should be by his behavior. I had never had a guy hold a door open for me before. It wasn’t something that I had ever thought much about.