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“Why?” I snapped.

“Because I knew you’d be thirsty.”

“I mean, why did you leave it for me? No one’s around, you don’t have to act like my boyfriend.”

“I’m not acting like your boyfriend,” he claimed, staring at the ceiling.

“Getting water for someone is something a boyfriend would do.”

He grinned. “No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is,” I argued. “It’s very boyfriendy.”

Damon closed his eyes and inhaled slowly through his nose. He wasn’t his usual happy self. Was he mad? Had I done something?

“Damon?” My voice came out as barely a whisper.

His eyes opened and he turned towards me. The heat in his stare had me sucking in a short breath.

“Do you want to see what I’d be doing right now if I was your boyfriend?” His voice was deep, nearly a growl.

Say no, I told myself.

“Yes.”

I barely got the word out before I found myself flat on my back with Damon hovering above me. My heart was pounding in my chest.

He bent down, and I automatically closed my eyes. I felt his lips brush against mine before he lowered even further and whispered against my ear. “If I was your boyfriend, you wouldn’t be thinking about work, or your ex, or the wedding. I’d make you forget everything except for how good I can make you feel.”

A sound escaped me, a whimper.

He shifted so he was staring down at me. The look in his eye was so intense, so raw, I felt it as a wave of tingles spread through me.

“Do you want me to show you?” he rasped.

No, I thought to myself. Say no.

Logically, I knew this was a horrible idea. I’d written an entire section of our agreement prohibiting this behavior. Unfortunately, logic wasn’t in the driver’s seat. Lust and longing were behind the wheel, and they were headed wherever Damon wanted to take them.

“Yes,” I managed to whisper.

“Are you sure?”

I swallowed over the pounding of my heartbeat in my throat. “Yes.”

Tension and two years of attraction combusted. He leaned down and kissed me. His mouth was warm and certain, his bottom lip pressing between mine, coaxing them open. I grabbed the back of his neck without thinking, my fingers curling into his skin, pulling him closer, and he made a low sound against my mouth that sent heat straight through my center.

His hand slid under the hem of my shirt, his palm flat against my stomach, and I gasped at the contact. His skin was warm, almost hot, and he spread his fingers wide like he wanted to feel as much of me as possible all at once.

“You’ve been driving me insane,” he muttered against my jaw, his mouth dragging down my neck. “You know that?”

I couldn’t answer. My fingers had found their way into the hair above his neck, and I was holding on, tilting my head back, giving him better access without meaning to. His lips found the spot just below my ear, and I made a sound I didn’t recognize as myself.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his chest heaving, his eyes dark. “Off,” he said, tugging at the hem of my shirt.

I sat up and let him pull it over my head. The cool air hit my skin for half a second before his hands were on me again—one at my waist, one sliding up my spine—and then he was kissing me again, deeper this time, more urgent. His tongue tangled with mine. I pushed my hands against his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle flex under my palms, and he groaned quietly into my mouth.

I felt impulsive and reckless in a way I hadn’t felt in years. Maybe ever. I tugged at the waistband of his sweats, and he laughed—a low, surprised sound—and pulled back to look at me with this expression I’d never seen on him before. Something unguarded and lit up.