him down to the shore.
Delayed terror kicked in then, and she started shaking. “You cold?” Bryce asked.
“Little bit,” she said.
Tanya was sleeping on the sand, and without bothering to try to rouse her, Lucas simply picked her up.
“I’m tired,” she whined. No one bothered to answer.
A mountain bike was parked behind the Mustang. Lucas dumped Tanya in the backseat, then popped the trunk and loaded the bike in. “You rode here on your bike?” Colleen asked, though the answer was obvious.
“Yeah.” He glanced at her. “Where’s your car?”
“I was playing chauffeur. Tanya can’t drive, and Bryce was already pretty sloppy.”
He nodded once, then opened the car door for her.
No boy had ever held a car door for her before.
She gave him directions to Tanya’s house, then walked Tanya to the door. Mrs. Cross was waiting up, her mouth falling open when she saw her daughter’s less-than-sober state, then thanked Colleen for seeing her home and began laying into Tanya for her stupidity. Colleen waved and went back to the car.
Bryce was sound asleep in the backseat, his snoring soft and rhythmic.
“Does he drink this much all the time?” she asked.
“Once in a while.”
Colleen nodded. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked, because Lucas seemed tense. Then again, this had been a tense night, hadn’t it? Holy Mary. There’d be fallout—Jake was not the forgive-and-forget type. She might have to make sure everyone heard about his pants-wetting. Then again, that could make matters worse. Don’t poke a wounded snake and all that.
“You’re gonna have to watch your back,” she said, stealing a look at her driver’s profile.
“Yeah.”
She cleared her throat, uncharacteristically nervous. “You were really brave. Three against one.”
He glanced at her. “Three against two,” he corrected.
“Yeah, well, Bryce wasn’t much help.”
“I was talking about you.”
The words brought a nearly painful heat to her cheeks. “I am pretty good in a fight,” she said, forcing some bravado into her voice.
But she hadn’t been good. She would’ve lost that one without Lucas, and the thought made her legs start shaking again. “Take this left, and we’re the third house on the right,” she said.
He pulled into her driveway, then turned off the engine and got out. She got out as well, all too aware of his presence behind her.
The house was quiet, but Mom had left the light on over the sink, her code for everyone’s in bed. Colleen turned to Lucas. His eyes were steady on her, dark and mysterious in the moonlight.
“Thank you again,” she said briskly.
He looked at her for a long minute. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked.
“Perfect,” she said, forcing a smile.
His dark pirate eyes narrowed slightly. “Don’t do that. Don’t lie.”
Well, hell. Men—especially boys—didn’t usually call her on her bullshit. “All right, then. I’m still shaking, and I probably won’t sleep tonight, but I’m not hurt, and I’m really, really glad you came looking for Bryce.” She wiped her eyes, which appeared to be tearing up. “I could say I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t come along, but I’m afraid I know exactly what would’ve happened if you hadn’t come along. So thank you, Lucas Campbell, for coming along.” She smiled, and it felt normal again. “And for being all badass and scary when you did. It was very hot.”
He laughed.
She hadn’t expected that.
It was a smoky, ashen sound, just a low scrape in his chest, and it filled her with lightness, somehow. But at the same time, she felt a little terrified, too, because she knew, somehow, that Lucas Campbell was different. He was dangerous to her, in ways that had nothing to do with violence and everything to do with the soft, hot feelings that pulsed and burned in her chest.
“Good night,” he said. But he didn’t move.
“Good night,” she whispered.
And then he kissed her, so gently at first, as if he’d never kissed a girl before, and please, looking like that, like Heathcliff, like a pirate or a gypsy or a member of the Sharks or the Jets...please, he’d kissed plenty of girls before.
The kiss was soft and sure at the same time, and she felt his welcome heat against her cool skin, felt his hand go to the back of her head, his fingers sliding into her hair. His mouth moved against hers, testing and waiting to see if she’d respond, and she did, hoping she was doing it right, because it sure felt right. It was all instinct—all those tips and comments and methods she’d given lectures on to her classmates these past five or six years, hell, she had no idea what she was supposed to be doing. All she knew was that Lucas Campbell was kissing her, and it felt so, so good.
It took her a second to realize he’d stopped, and that his forehead was resting against hers. Her hands were on his wrists, clinging to him.
“You’re with me now,” he said softly. Then he pulled back to look at her. “Okay?”
She was too smart for all this. She had an old soul. She couldn’t picture having a boyfriend.
But his eyes were steady, and his lashes were thick and dark. “Okay,” she whispered. So much for her legendary comebacks.
“I wasn’t sure you liked me,” he said after a minute.
“It’s the whole white-knight thing.”
There was that laugh again, and just the sound of it had her stomach tightening in a warm spiral.
“I’ll see you around, hotshot,” he said, stepping away from her, and the cold and emptiness he left was a little shocking.
He seemed to read her mind, because he was back, and this time his kiss was more insistent. She grabbed his hair and answered, her mouth opening under his, and God, this was better than food, better than breathing, and a lot more important than either, the hard press of him against her, the silkiness of his hair, the taste of his mouth—
“Go inside,” he ordered finally.
“You’re not the boss of me,” she said, hoping her legs still worked. He grinned, and hell, she nearly came.
They’d be sleeping together. Soon. It was as inevitable as morning.
A long time later, she lay in bed, her fingers tracing her lips.
This night might’ve
