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I want to remember this—I want it to be memorable enough for her to never forget it. I let the anticipation hang between us until her breath warms my face and I can’t hold back any longer.

My lips brush against hers, and I linger, memorizing her mouth and the way she moves. Her plush lips are warm and inviting. Anna releases a sexy little sigh that sends a spike of adrenaline through me, causing my hand to tighten in her hair—and she melts into me.

The night I took her to the rooftop, I remember thinking that if I could just taste her lips once, I would be satisfied, I wouldn’t need more than that.

I didn’t know what the fuck I was talking about.

Once would never have been enough.

Our kiss deepens, and she fists the front of my shirt. The way our movement syncs, how our bodies fit together . . . It feels so right. When we separate, she sucks in a breath at the same time I do, as if she’s just as caught off guard by that kiss. With my hand still buried in her hair, all I can think about is wanting more.

He steers me into the neglected church graveyard, moonlight washing over the crooked rows of headstones. More are hidden in the shadows of the giant weathered trees. Leaves tumble and swirl as we stroll the hallowed grounds.

I can’t believe we just watched that couple have sex—my heart is still hammering.

One of my therapists explained that voyeurism can sometimes be about control. They posited that’s one of the reasons I might enjoy it, because it “allows me to experience intimacy safely from the outside without participating.” Which I guess makes sense, but when I’m in the moment, I never think about it that way, it’s just . . . hot.

However . . . watching them go at it while Casper had his hands on me was a rush like no other. I couldn’t even tell if I was on my feet or if Casper was holding me upright. Everything blurred into this heady mix of arousal and adrenaline, and—fuck, I didn’t want it to stop.

He moves to shrug off his flannel, and I press a palm to his chest to stop him.

“Your shirt is big, but not enough for the both of us.” I untie my cloak and pass it to him.

Wrapping my arms around my middle does little to keep me warm while Casper shakes open the red makeshift blanket, crouching to smooth it on the ground.

“Is this where you bring all your dates?”

He glances up at me and offers his hand, ushering me to lie with him.

“No, but it’s where I hide the bodies afterward.”

A sigh escapes me.

“It’s Halloween!” he asserts. “There’s a full moon. That only happens once every nineteen years or so. It would be disrespectful if we didn’t take advantage of the cemetery, don’t you agree?”

I lie on my back and Casper settles beside me, propping himself up on one elbow.

“True. We wouldn’t want to miss out on the opportunity.” I rub my chilled flesh, exposed after he ripped a gaping hole in my tights.

I should address this before it continues. “Hey, I still have to come to you for my tattoo sessions . . .”

“Yeah, we’ve got a couple left. How are you liking it so far?”

“I love it.” But I don’t want to talk about the tattoo. I should have brought this up to him earlier, but in my defense, I wasn’t expecting us to kiss tonight. Shit, I wasn’t even expecting him to make an appearance.

“Good.”

I’m unsure how to address what just happened, however, if I don’t say something now, my overthinking will destroy me from the inside out. The situation is delicate, but it needs to happen before this goes any further.

“I can’t be a one-night stand,” I blurt. My cheeks burn as soon as the words leave my mouth. Brilliant subtlety . . .

“If I have to see you again, for the tattoos, I can’t do the hookup thing. I haven’t—” The words get caught in my throat.

God, why is this so hard?

Keeping my feelings private wouldn’t be fair to either of us. I glance away and force myself to overcome the humility of what I’m about to say. “I haven’t had a relationship since getting sober, and I don’t know how to be casual—no, actually, I don’t want to be casual. I like you. A lot. Probably too much.”

The admission has me wanting to run like never before. The seconds stretch on, and my eyes stay fixed on the tree branches, still unable to face him.