My God. I must be part vampire.

And when the hell did I get so horny?

And then I realize. It’s not that I’m suddenly horny; it’s that I’m with Levi. And here in his arms I can be Pixie, damaged and flawed, wet and dirty, and it’s okay. We’re okay.

One of his hands leaves my butt and runs up my rib cage, his thumb pressing into the indentations between each rib, my skin soft and giving. His hand moves higher and cups my breast over the thin wet cotton of my shirt, gently squeezing. I move my hips against him, desperate for more of his touch, and he responds by brushing his thumb over the hard tip of my nipple. Back and forth. Back and forth.

I moan with each swipe of his thumb, and muscles low in my belly tighten in response. He palms my breast again and shifts against me. God, he’s hard. And thick. And hot. And so many things I want to feel inside my now-aching body.

His palm moves down to my leg. His fingertips burn a trail of want into my skin as he runs his hand up the back of my thigh to where my butt cheek is completely exposed—because my white shorts have ridden up and are now acting more like a thong than running shorts—and grabs my naked ass, pressing harder against me.

And he’s kissing me—God, he’s kissing me—like he’s starving, and I’m just kissing and rocking and rubbing and, hell, everything my body wants to do against his.

I move my hands to his back and under the hem of his shirt. His back muscles are hard and thick beneath my fingertips, rippling with his movement, as I start to pull his shirt up. He shifts against me, and I’ve never been more excited in my life. For real.

The wet shower has nothing on me.

His mouth moves to my jaw—yes—and then my neck—oh God—and then he has his teeth running along my collarbone while his hand rounds my leg and glides up the inside of my thigh and—holy hell! This boy knows his way around my body.

He slides his hand up under my shorts until he’s cupping the naked V between my legs with his warm palm. I whimper in ecstasy as my body responds to his hot touch and grows more slippery as he begins to slide his fingers along parts of my body that really, really like being touched.

He kisses and sucks at my throat and chest as he slowly eases a finger inside my tight body while that clever thumb of his continues to slip and slide over my most sensitive spot. I squirm against him because I want more—need more—so much more. He slowly withdraws his finger and I whine and gasp in protest until he pushes it back in, all the while working his thumb against my hot, wet flesh.

I wiggle, I moan, I gasp, I beg as Levi kisses me and groans hot breaths of desire against my skin. He adds a second finger to the first and fills me thickly, pushing in and out of me as he increases the heavenly movement of his thumb.

My body begins to tighten and shake, my thighs quivering around his hips as he works me to the brink of sweet death, and I tip my head back, completely blind to everything but the white rainstorm. Then I cry out with pleasure as my body completely unravels and gives in to the magic of Levi’s hand.

My insides pulse as Levi brings his lips to mine and kisses me deeply. I whimper against his mouth, and it’s all I can do to keep my hands from falling off as I struggle to claw my way down his shirt and to the waistband of his shorts. I want to rip them off and fill my body with his until this blissful yet wanting hollow inside me purrs with satisfaction.

He kisses along my collarbone. I yank on his waistband. He pulls at my tank top—

And then the fire alarm goes off.

We both freeze. The drill.

The fire drill is today.

For a moment, we stay pressed together, breathing heavily against each other in the steam, our wet clothes warming between us.

But reality moves in fast, pushing through the haze. I’ve already made my decision. I am irrevocably and shamelessly interested in having Levi’s body inside mine. Levi, on the other hand, has pulled his head back from my collarbone and is looking into my eyes.

Not my eyes. Don’t look at my eyes.

If he sees me, he’ll remember, and if he remembers—

“Shit.” He pulls back, remorse and hatred in his eyes, and I want to scream.

But I don’t. I stay where I am, pushed up against the wall with Levi’s erection pressing against the still-quaking center of my body, and act like this is all just run-of-the-mill for me.

What’s that now? Oh, no. I do this all the time. I’m always humping guys in the shower with my pj’s on.

He gently lowers me to my feet; then he turns away.

He leaves the bathroom, the fire alarm still blaring, and I sink down to the shower floor, letting the water spray down on me as a shiver runs through my body.

It’s the first hot shower I’ve had in days and I’m in my clothes, out of breath, and cold as hell.

It was a false alarm, the fire drill. The feeling of belonging when Pixie had her arms around me.

I don’t bother explaining my wet clothes as I slosh downstairs to turn off the shrieking noise. Guests everywhere are fussing around, overreacting to the excitement.

Ellen’s in the lobby, assuring everyone that there is no fire as she leads them out back, per alarm protocol. “This is just a drill,” she explains. People hear this, but they still want to chat about the near-death experience they just had.

The only person in the whole place who just had a near-death experience was me. I almost died in the shower just now with Pixie on fire in my arms and my selfish body just burning alive with her.

What the hell was I thinking?

Never mind. I know what I was thinking.

Why the hell did I give in?

Never mind. I know that too.

But that doesn’t make it right. And if I’m trying to atone for anything in my life, I’m certainly not going to find my salvation with the one person who should resent my very existence.

I walk to the back hall, passing by flustered guests who stare at me and my sopping clothes like I’m a crazy person, to the system control box and turn the alarm off.

There is an audible sigh of relief, a brief moment of silence, and then the chaos erupts again. More chatter about the “great fire” that didn’t happen as people file out the back door.

I walk over to Ellen, who eyes me up and down. Her gaze lingers on my very stretched-out wet shirt collar and she raises a brow.

I don’t explain.

She looks around. “Where’s Pixie?”

Like we’re supposed to travel in pairs or something.

“How should I know?” And shit, I said that with a ferocity that was only going to raise questions.

“You two share the same wing, Levi,” she says. “What if there was a fire and she was trapped in it? The purpose of a drill is to practice being safe. Did you even look for her before you came downstairs?”

First of all, fuck that.

I would never leave Pixie to die. I might leave her wet and shaking in a hot shower with her clothes on, but I sure as hell wouldn’t leave her at the mercy of a fire.

Second, whoa.

If Ellen doesn’t know me well enough to know that I’d never let anyone—especially Pixie—die, then I should be shot dead on the spot.

I open my mouth to retort to Ellen in a very offensive and curse-filled way, when I catch the teasing glimmer in her eye.

Damn women.

“Pixie’s fine,” I say.

Ellen looks me up and down again. “You sure about that?”