Every time I catch Evie's eye from across the room, or when I walk up to her and plant a kiss on her temple, a thought goes through my mind:

Why can't this be real?

I mean, maybe not the engagement. She's too young for that, and I'm not sure if I'm ready for that level of commitment. But I'm comfortable with her. Happy in her presence. We're beyond physically compatible. Sure, she's a virgin, and is still hesitant about some things. But so deliciously eager to learn. I can't think about it too hard while around my family because it's distracting.

Last night was the most erotic night I've spent in . . . I don't know how long. I'm not that experienced with women, but being with Evie was incredible.

Plus, I can be myself around Evie, say stupid shit, make her laugh. I can be my geeky self with her.

Yeah, maybe we should continue this. Try it out. Would that be weird, me giving her money while we date? I mull this over throughout the day as my relatives drone on about horse farms or their second homes on the coast or whatever. Unlike with other people, I don't feel the need to talk about that crap. My career and my past as a motorcycle racer seem inconsequential to Evie.

She seems a little uncomfortable with wealth, and occasionally I notice her looking around, taking in the details of my parents' lavish, historic mansion, or the gaudy gold-and-diamond necklaces on my elderly aunts. I've yet to ask her what she thinks of all this, and frankly, I'm a little scared to hear her assessment. My family can be a bit snobby when it comes right down to it, and I've never noticed it as much as this weekend, since I'm trying to experience things through Evie's eyes.

Take right now, for example. It's been a long day of socializing and we're in the garden courtyard, having a nightcap with my cousins and Gram. Rose and Beau are still here somewhere. When they first got together, I would've been drunk and sullen by this point in the night.

Tonight, I barely remember that Rose and Beau are even here. They've mostly steered clear of me. Beau has flitted around Gram like a moth all day. Surprised he's not out here now, in fact.

I keep trying to wrap things up so Evie and I can get upstairs. My need for her has been on a low boil all day and now that we're under the light of the moon, her skin looks so fucking beautiful that I can't wait to get her naked. It's going to be difficult to make love to her gently because I feel like a Neanderthal of need.

I can tell Evie's exhausted—who wouldn't be, after listening to my family all day—but she's being attentive as all hell while listening to Gram's story about when she met my grandfather. We're sitting next to each other on a rattan love seat, while Gram is holding court in a comfy matching chair in front of a fire pit.

I've heard this one a million times before. Gram's talking about how she was a from a good southern family and a debutante, and how my grandfather was from a more unusual southern family—a poorer one, with ties to Union soldiers in the Civil War. To hear Gram tell it, their love story was like something out of West Side Story or Romeo and Juliet or some shit. How her family didn't want her to marry into the Jenkins family, who were like the black sheep of Savannah.

"And you know what I said?" Gram asks triumphantly, taking a dramatic sip of her bourbon.

Beau slithers up and takes a seat next to Gram. Of course. There he is. "What?" he asks, pretending to be interested.

Evie's wide-eyed, and I can tell she's enthralled. I can practically recite what Gram's going to say next, and squeeze Evie's hand.

"I told my father to go to hell, I was going to marry for love and not money. And look where we are now. My husband made it all on his own. Well, and I helped. A lot." She sweeps a gnarled hand around the courtyard.

"Of course you did. I wish I had your kind of courage," Evie murmurs.

Gram pauses. "Young lady, I detect more courage in your little finger than all of these people have in their entire bodies."

Evie's obviously taken aback that Gram would say such a thing out loud. Beau and my other cousins titter and roll their eyes. Gram's well-known for getting a bit tipsy at these things and making wacky declarations. Still, I'm glad she adores Evie, and I know her words are genuine—and true.

"Well." I lean forward. "It's going to be a long day tomorrow. Gram, isn't it time we get some rest?"

"Oh, hell, Alex. Say the word. You want to take your girl upstairs. I know your mother put you two in the same room to spite me. Well, I don't care. I'm not a prude. Or if you all want to drink bourbon and smoke your marijuana, I'll make myself scarce." She flicks her hand at the door and I crack up.

"Gram, we won't smoke pot unless you agree to do it with us."

Gram giggles and swats the air in my direction. "Oh, you."

There's a beautiful smile on Evie's face. I stand up and stretch, letting out an audible yawn. So much for Gram being old-fashioned.

"I probably should head to bed," Gram sighs dramatically. "Youth is wasted on the young."

Beau stands. "Er, Rose and I need to be getting to the bed-and-breakfast. I'm going to find her now. Last I saw her she was in the kitchen with your mom, Alex. See y'all tomorrow."

He wanders into the house while I rub Evie's shoulder.

Evie stands and goes to Gram. "I've had a wonderful time talking with you today. I'm glad we've gotten to know each other."

Gram sets down her drink and offers her hand. Evie clasps it gently, then leans down to give Gram a kiss on the cheek. To my surprise, Gram kisses her back.

Gram is not the kissing-strangers type of lady. She wags her weathered index finger in Evie's direction. "You're the best thing that's happened to my grandson. Don't let anyone try to tell you otherwise. Good night, dear."

◊

EVIE

Alex shuts the bedroom door softly. For some reason, being alone with him seems awkward. My feet are glued to the floor. I look around as if I've never been here. There's a paper bag on the nightstand that wasn't here this morning, and I know what's inside.

"Hey." He rubs his hands up and down my bare arms, and I shiver. "You seem nervous. Don't be. We don't have to do it tonight if you aren't ready."

The thing is, I am ready. It's probably a terrible idea because I know my heart will be shattered eventually, but I want him. I'm anxious because of the impending heartache, and because of the stress of the day, of having to smile and nod with a few dozen of his relatives.

My virginity is an afterthought.

My eyes sweep down his face and body, every angle and muscle. His deep-blue eyes and his sensual mouth. His broad shoulders barely contained in a white linen shirt. His near-black hair, and the matching dark brows. I'd waited to lose my virginity because I'd been busy with death and life, not because I was holding out for someone perfect.

But somehow, I'd found him. Even though this perfect man is only mine for the weekend. I gently take his face in my hands and kiss him. With a possessive sweep of his arm around my waist, he drags me toward him, kissing me harder. We walk to the bed, still kissing, and when we're at the edge of the mattress, his mouth hovers over mine.

"I'll be gentle. I promise. If it hurts, tell me."

I begin to unbutton his shirt. "That's . . . quite kind. Considering you're more experienced and all."

He stills and captures my hand that's on a button. Uh-oh. I think I've said something wrong because he's frowning.

"Evie. I'm not that experienced. And whatever I've done in the past doesn't matter now. Doesn't have any impact on what's going on in this room, between the two of us. And I'd never want to hurt you physically. In any way."

I shrug. "I'm sure you're used to women who—"

"Stop it." His voice is a little too rough. "Don't ever compare yourself to anyone."

He pauses.

"I want to share this with you. Enjoy every kiss and every thrust and every second with you. I haven't felt like this since . . ." His voice fades.

"Since?" I whisper, as I finish unbuttoning his shirt. His bare chest is too tempting, and I run my hands over his muscles.

"Since never," he says, pushing me back onto the bed.

Since never? What's that supposed to mean?

My thoughts are wiped from my brain because I'm surrounded by his smell, his touch, his bites on my flesh. He kisses me so deep that I forget whose air I'm breathing, or why I even need air. It doesn't take long for both to us to get naked—I don't even mind that the light is on, and I don't try to hide the fact that I'm staring at his huge erection—and Alex parts my thighs with his hands.

"Don't you want the condom first?" I ask, confused.

"No. I want to lick you until you come first. I want you wetter than the ocean and nice and relaxed. Then I'm going to be inside you."

"You're so dirty and I love it." He's between my legs, licking and touching, and I gasp at the sensation.

"You're so wet and I love it."

All the day's doubts vanish into the humid night air.

Everything seems to happen quickly, too quickly to process. We're in a frenzy of absolute need, and he's bringing me so close to release with his mouth and fingers. Over and over, until I'm on the brink.

And he keeps me on the edge by toying with me, by changing his rhythm, by looking up at me with those eyes and saying dirty, filthy things. I can barely see straight, and can't hold out any longer. My orgasm comes fast and hard, and I cry out a little louder than I intended while pulling on his hair.

"Sorry, I don't want your whole family to hear," I whisper, totally embarrassed. I try to roll onto my side, but he flips me onto my back again.

"I don't care," he growls, moving up my body, sucking my nipples on the way to my mouth. "I love it when you're loud. I couldn't care less who hears."

"I love what you do to me. How greedy you are with my body. But maybe your family doesn't need to know."

"Baby, if you think I'm greedy now . . ." He chuckles. "Just wait."

He sits up on his heels and leans over, grabbing for the bag on the nightstand. It takes him a few seconds to open the box and the foil packet, and I watch, fascinated, as he holds himself while he rolls on the condom.

"You like that," he murmurs. "You like watching me."

I grin bashfully. "Maybe."

He leans down to kiss me. "I'm going to be on top, okay?"

I nod. It would be awkward for me to take charge for my first time. But perhaps later . . .

"Open your legs wide. Wrap them around my hips." His voice is gentle, far softer than when he was talking dirty while licking me.

When I spread for him, I feel a jolt of nerves. This is really happening. His arms are close to my body, and he's staring intently into my eyes. I reach up and trace his lips. He kisses my finger.

"You know you might not orgasm with penetration, right?"

I nod.

"And you know that if you don't, I'll make sure you do afterward?"

I nod again. We'd talked about this last night.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes, Alex."

"I like to hear you say my name."

I feel his tip between my legs. A slow push of his hips. A hot, quick pain makes me suck in a breath and squeeze my eyes shut.

"Alex," I breathe.

"You okay?"

"Yes."

He's not moving anymore, and despite the fullness, I get the feeling he's not all the way in. I open my eyes to find Alex breathing hard.

"I'm okay, really," I whisper.

We stare at each other, and it's both hot and awkward. I giggle, and he laughs a little while rubbing his nose against mine. Then things turn serious.

He gives a little nod and moves his hips into me. "There," he says. "How does that feel? I'm all the way inside."

"Ohhh. Whoa. Alex." I grip his arms. It's like nothing I've ever experienced. Intense. Intimate. Like we're joined together. Cliché, I know. And the fact that he's talking about it in a low voice is making me even wetter than I was before.

He slides out slowly and groans. "Evie, you feel incredible."

"I do?"

He slides in and smiles wickedly. "Oh, yes. You don't even know."

There's another spear of pain, this one duller, and I force my muscles to relax. How can something feel painful and amazing at the same time?

He's slowly thrusting in and out, and I'm glad I'm so wet. Otherwise this would be unpleasant. It's a different sensation than when he was bringing me to orgasm with his fingers or tongue. Not worse, not better, different. More carnal and raw. I probably won't orgasm like this, not yet, not my first time. But that's okay, because this is incredible in a whole other way.

His mouth is next to my ear, his body heavy atop mine, his breath coming in thick gasps.

"Evie," he rasps. "I'm going to come. You're so fucking tight and you feel so good."

He whispers my name again and the sound is so desperate. Like he's coming undone because of me. I wrap my arms around his back, digging my nails into his skin. Maybe I'm too rough because he props himself on his hands so he's looking down at me while he slides in and out of me, faster now.

Oh my God. I am having sex. With a gorgeous man. Who looks savage with his unruly dark hair and wild, half-lidded eyes. There's a slight snarl on his lips, like he's going to lose control any second. I shut my eyes because it's too much. Too intense.

"Look at me," he whispers.

I do. A second later, I watch his eyes roll back in his head, his full lips part. With a strong thrust into my core that makes me whimper, he moans, unable to hold on any longer. His arm muscles strain; his ab muscles tense. Now I'm glad the light's on, because he's incredible to watch. Erotic, sure. But also vulnerable. Which inspires something protective in me.

I feel him pulse inside of me, and I don't think I've ever seen anything so captivatingly masculine. Still panting, he dips his head to kiss me. I feel the sweat and heat radiating from his body.

"Was that okay?" he murmurs against my lips.

If by okay, he means, Did that make you fall fully and uncontrollably in love with me, then yes.

"It was more than okay." I smile and kiss him again.

◊

Over the next few hours, we do it twice more. I don't orgasm either time, but he makes up for it with his fingers and tongue. I'm officially addicted to the way he touches me.

By his third orgasm—and my fifth, I think—I'm an exhausted, quivering mass of flesh. We're both sticky and sweaty. Somehow most of the bedding's ended up on the floor, and we haul it back onto the bed.

"Sleep. I need sleep." I laugh, giddy from being overtired and sex-sated.

He reaches to turn out the lamp. "You and me both, babe."

A cozy silence fills the room, and I'm almost asleep when he says, "You did so well today with my family. With Rose and Beau. I'm in awe. You showed no fear."

"Mmm," I exhale, snuggling into his side. The last thing I want to think about after this amazing night is Rose and Beau. Especially the way she was so dismissive in the kitchen. But it's easy to forget about all that, now that I'm in Alex's arms.

"It's so funny, I wondered if you'd be able to handle my family. A couple of times I wasn't so sure, since you're afraid of other things. Like elevators. And cars. I guess that's your past, though, and it's totally understandable. Aww, hell. I'm babbling. Sorry. I'll let you sleep."

"I am afraid because of the past. It's true. And you know, you are too." My voice is gravelly. Somewhere there's an important message in this conversation, but my brain and body are too tired to process everything. "You've been afraid, too. Not telling your family about Rose and Beau, taking the fall for that whole situation. You did it to protect your family's reputation while ruining your own."

Now it was his turn to hum a mmm-hmm sound. "You're pretty smart, Evie Cooper."

He gently uses his fingers under my chin to tilt my head up. I let out a little coo. "I love how you kiss me," I murmur.

"I thought about kissing you a long time before I actually did." He's trailing his fingers up and down my bare back.

"That first kiss. It was deep. Mmm." I'm so drowsy now, especially since the room is dark.

"So deep that it was like our souls were making love even before our clothes were off."

I giggle. "I'm not sure that makes sense, but I love that."

"I'm not sure we make sense, but I love it."

Did he say that, or did I dream it? I drift off, my mind a jumble of thoughts and emotions that dissipate like fog over the beach.

◊

I'm jarred out of a heavy sleep by a pounding on the door.

"Alex? Alex?" It's a masculine voice. Mr. Jenkins? I struggle to open my eyes as Alex's dad says a few more words that are muffled by my sleepy brain and the door. Alex is next to me, snoring. We're still tangled together, naked, covered only by a white sheet.

I shake Alex's shoulder. "It's your dad. He's knocking. It's sounds urgent."

"Hunh?" He jerks his head and opens his eyes, lifting his head. "Dad? Is that you? What's up?"

"Alex, you'd better get out here. It's Gram. We found her . . . well, come out here and we'll tell you."