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“I know.” Standing there with her against him, though, he had no fucking idea how he was supposed to let her go. “But I don’t want to walk away from you now just because I’ll have to leave later.” His lips brushed her forehead. “Just don’t start saying goodbye before I go.”

Nicole held him a little tighter. “I won’t if you don’t.”

“I won’t.”

She stayed against him a little longer before she lifted her head. Drew bent and kissed her slow, and her hand came up to rest against his jaw.

“You’re my girl,” he said, his mouth still close to hers.

Her smile came slowly. “And you’re my man.”

“Damn straight.”

When she kissed him again, Drew caught her around the backs of her thighs and lifted her, and Nicole grabbed his shoulders as he turned toward the counter. He shoved Cedric’s flowers out of the way with his forearm, not giving a damn where they ended up, and set her down right where they’d been.

Nicole eyed the flowers. “I’ll get rid of them.”

“Fuck those flowers.” He stepped between her knees. “I got the girl.”

She kissed him, chuckling against his lips, and hooked her legs around him. She tasted like honey and cinnamon. He liked having her up here, where he didn’t have to bend down to get to her.

Nicole slipped her hands under his sweatshirt, pushing it up over his stomach and ribs. Drew broke the kiss long enough to pull it over his head and toss it aside. Her palms were on his bare chest as he leaned in again, kissing down her neck while he worked the buttons of her shirt open. He wanted his mouth on her breasts.

“Drew.”

“Hmm?”

“My meeting’s at nine o’clock.” Nicole worked the button of his jeans loose as she spoke.

He checked the clock on the stove. “We’ve got time.”

She pulled his zipper down. “Then what are we waiting for?”

Drew got his hands under her and lifted her off the counter. Nicole wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed along his jaw as he carried her out of the kitchen. By the time they reached her bedroom, her hand was inside his jeans.

He kicked the door shut behind them.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

By the time Nicole left Dr. Adams’s office, she’d started to wonder how many different ways the art department chair could ask if she was sure about changing her major. Her answer was still yes, even after she’d heard everything it would take.

Being a sophomore worked in her favor. Most of the classes she’d already taken would still count toward her general ed requirements, but she’d missed several introductory art courses, and some of those had to be taken in order. Depending on when they were offered, she could end up graduating a semester or two late.

Nicole didn’t love that. She had come to Drayton expecting to finish in four years, and she could already hear her mother coming down on her for the extra time it would take. And she had to get through this semester first. The deadline to drop classes had passed, which meant biology and human anatomy were hers until finals, along with every lab, paper, and exam.

There were only so many spots in the fine-arts program, and Dr. Adams would need to see her work before deciding whether to offer her one. Her portfolio review was Friday morning. Nicole had the requirements folded inside her notebook and the rest of the week to decide which paintings she wanted judged.

Over the next two days, classes and labs took up most of her time on campus, and coming home didn’t mean she was finished. She ate with a textbook open beside her and worked through reading and lab reports when she’d rather have been in the studio. Whatever time she could spare went to painting, though getting ready for Friday had made it hard to leave anything alone. She’d notice a shadow that needed deepening or a figure that looked a little stiff, pull the canvas onto her easel, and start mixing paint.

Choosing what to take was worse. A painting she loved one evening would look all wrong the next morning. She’d decide a piece belonged in the portfolio, then start worrying that she only liked it because she’d spent so long working on it. By Thursday, she had carried canvases into the hallway, lined them up to look at together, changed her mind, and hauled them back inside so many times that she no longer trusted herself to judge any of them.

Drew’s schedule wasn’t any lighter. Between workouts, classes, team meetings, and practice, he’d squeezed in an interview with Sports Illustrated. Still, he called both days, even though one conversation barely lasted five minutes.

Thursday evening, he came over after practice. Somewhere between dinner, Nicole pretending to study, and Drew making it impossible for her to concentrate, they ended up in bed.

Now she lay half on top of him with the sheet twisted around their legs, her sweaty skin sticking to his. Only a few minutes earlier, she’d been straddling his hips, riding him slow while his hands squeezed her breasts. Drew had watched her the entire time, those pale eyes heavy and fixed on her face, until his head fell back and he came under her, groaning her name.

She could still feel it everywhere. With her cheek against his chest, she listened to his breathing settle. One arm lay around her waist while his other hand wandered over her bare hip, down the curve of her ass, and back again.