Why was I even on his radar at all?
And why did I love that I was?
When he looked at me, my body reacted in a way that was foreign and exciting, fresh and new and terrifying. I wondered what it would be like, to be his, to have walked up to that party last night and been hauled up over his shoulders and back downstairs as soon as he saw me. What would he do to me if he had me to himself?
If we spent a night together?
I groaned, covering my face with my pillow to snuff the noise. “You have a boyfriend, Aspen,” I reminded myself, the words muffled where they echoed back to me.
That reminder made my stomach upset for a completely different reason.
I pulled the pillow from my face, staring up at the ceiling as I replayed the scene at the pool. Joel had tossed my feelings aside so easily, and more than that, he’d chosen partying over making things right with me.
I needed to talk to him.
But I wanted to talk to Theo.
Everything in my body ached to go up on the main deck, seek him out, demand he explain what he meant by everything he said last night. I wanted him to tell me I imagined it. I wanted him to laugh at the audacity and call me crazy — because that’s how I felt — absolutely, certifiably insane. Silly little girl, why would I have any interest in you?
But perhaps more than anything?
I wanted him to tell me more.
I wanted him to tell me he wanted me, he needed me, he couldn’t stop thinking about me. I wanted to know his dreams were filled with me, that this wasn’t all in my head, that the electricity I felt when he was near was coursing through his veins, too.
I wanted to be the source of every desire Theo Whitman had.
My body awakened to the thought, nipples hardening as I squeezed my thighs together against the ache between my legs. My breath grew shallower the more I thought about it — about his sultry eyes, his cocky smirk, his broad shoulders in his fitted suit.
I slipped a hand under my panties, shivering at the cool touch against my core.
When I closed my eyes, I saw Theo’s face.
And I pretended my hand was his.
It’s kept me up at night, Aspen.
I’ve had one question haunting me.
I couldn’t bite back the moan when one finger slipped inside me, and that seemed to jolt me back to reality.
My eyes shot open, and I ripped my hand from my panties, sitting up quickly with a frustrated groan.
What is happening to me?
I didn’t know if I wanted to cry or scream or give in to my desire. No one would know. Joel was at work, Theo wasn’t here, of course. I was alone. Would it be so bad to get lost in a little fantasy for a few moments?
Yes, Aspen, seeing as how that fantasy is not about your BOYFRIEND.
I felt like a meteor spiraling in space, like a bottle teetering dangerously on a choppy sea, safe for now but just one wrong wave away from drowning.
So, I reached for my phone again, and this time, I called the one person I hoped could ground me.
“Hey, big sis, how’s life of the rich and famous?”
As soon as Juniper’s voice was on the line, my eyes welled with tears again. “It’s… interesting,” I answered. “How are you?”
“I’m good. Busy. Tired.” She yawned, and it was then that I realized it was the middle of the night there. “I was actually sleeping, though. I think you forgot about the time difference.”
“Oh God, I’m sorry sis.”
“It’s okay. I’ve got a busy day tomorrow.” She paused. “Er, today now, I guess. But maybe I can call you later this week and we can catch up?”
My heart sank, and a million responses screamed at me in my head.
No, I need to talk to you now.
I need someone to tell me what to do.
I need someone to help me figure out the mess inside my head.
“Sure,” I said instead, sighing with the resignation.
Juniper was silent for a moment. “Everything okay?”
God, no.
“Mm-hmm.” I sighed, shaking my head as I forced a smile even though she couldn’t see it. “Just needed to hear your voice.”
“Aww, you big softie. I’ll give you a call later this week. Okay?”
I swallowed. “Okay.”
“Until then, give Joel my love, and for Pete’s sake, sis, have some fun. You sound like you’re wound up tighter than a virgin’s asshole over there.”
“Juniper!”
“Oh, get over it. I’m nineteen.”
I chuckled a little at that. “I love you.”
“Love you, too. I’m going back to sleep. You go have some fun,” she said again, and then the line cut out, and I was alone with my thoughts again.
What a dangerous place to be.
Joel walked through the cabin door at 8:04 that evening.
I was still in bed, reading a book, which I laid flat on the comforter at the sight of him. His eyes were red and puffy, along with his nose, as if he’d been crying too. His dark hair was sticking up this way and that, his shoulders slumped as he dug into his pockets and emptied everything out of them, dumping his wallet and keys and such on the dresser.
He looked as tired and worn and sad as I felt.
“Hi,” I said tentatively.
I expected him to jump into bed and throw himself on me. I expected an apology, an explanation, a promise to never do it again. I expected a flurry of kisses, his arms encompassing me, his forehead pressed to mine. That was always how it went. We were like any
