A faint smile rose on Texas’ lips. They were a nice pair of lips. Pale and pillowy, the bottom plumper than the upper one.

“He’s right,” she teased. “A quote from The Notebook would make everything better.”

“Shh!” someone a few rows below growled.

The Notebook, they said? I’d watched it a thousand times with … never mind.

My jaw ticked, and I ignored the rapid pulses in my eyelid. “You got a taste for humiliation?” I scanned her coldly.

“Tit for tat,” she tutted. “You humiliated me. It’s only fair that I witness you squirm.”

Damn this girl to hell. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

“I could be whatever you want. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll become that,” I said quietly.

It might not have been verbatim, but it was damn close. She shivered in her seat. Easton threw his head back, his entire body quaking with silent laughter. He wasn’t going to be so happy when I got back home later tonight to pull out his toenails with tweezers while he watched.

“I’m sorry I shoved you out the door the other day. It was shitty, and rude, and out of order. It wasn’t because I didn’t want you there. My mother and I don’t get along—as you can tell from my ignoring her constantly—and I didn’t want her to say something that would offend you. Which, ironically, blew up in my face.”

In my periphery, Easton’s body was now practically shaking in his seat with laughter. He got up. I spat the apple candy in my mouth into the cup holder between us before it snapped in two.

“I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it. Westie, don’t be … uh, you, basically.” Easton excused himself, clapping my shoulder on his way out. He skipped down the stairs, merry as a stoner at a dispensary.

Grace turned to face me. Again, I found myself cursing the douchebag who’d invented ball caps. I could hardly see her face.

I took her pinky in mine and squeezed. She let me. She tipped her chin up. Those damn summer sky eyes were going to be my undoing. I’d always been an ass man, but those eyes did to my dick what no ass on planet Earth could.

“Tex.”

“I hate you.”

“I know. Tex?”

“Next time you’re a jerk, I won’t be so forgivin’.”

“Duly noted. Tex?”

“We can be friends again, but this is your last chance.”

“Tex!”

“What!”

“Fuck friendship. I miss your lips.”

Her shoulders eased, like she’d released a breath she’d been holding. “They missed you, too.” Pause. “The rest of you, not so much.”

This girl gave as good as she got.

And she got a whole lotta shit from the world.

I grabbed her cap and flipped it backwards as I dove in for a kiss. Even through the coat of popcorn salt, she tasted warm and sweet and soft. Always so fucking soft. I sucked her lower lip into my mouth, nibbling on it until she moaned and gasped, clutching my shirt.

My eyes were so heavy lidded, I could barely keep them open, but I still didn’t fully shut them. She was gorgeous like this, in the dark, the blue lights of the screen dancing across her face. I wanted to ink this moment into memory, because I knew I would screw it up eventually.

I was going to lose her.

But at least I was going to have her first.

This was going to be temporary.

And painful.

And worth it.

The only thing that had changed between today and yesterday was my acceptance that the train wreck had left the station and was now heading toward a sizzling pile of explosives at a rapid speed.

I wanted Grace ‘Texas’ Shaw.

Wanted in her pants.

In her mouth.

In every hole she possessed (apart from the urethra, maybe).

I wanted her mean jokes and pure heart and dazzling eyes, and that bumpy scar that felt like silk under my fingertips.

Her skin was a continent of explorations I wanted to unveil, and kiss, and nibble. To learn her stories—her fears—by tracing my lips along all the places of her that hurt once.

She slid her fingers into my hair, producing small throaty noises that made all my blood rush south. Our kiss was feral and deep, our tongues twirling together. I’d never enjoyed kissing so much. Normally, it was just a pit stop on my way to my final destination—Boneville.

But I could kiss Texas to oblivion and back, without coming up for air. My thoughts sounded like a dated Hallmark card, but that didn’t make them any less true. Or any less goddamn disturbing, for that matter.

Her hand slid across my pecs, down my six-pack, her fingers curling over the first button of my jeans.

“Wanna get out of here?” Her lips traced mine as she spoke.

I unglued my mouth from hers, studying her face. She looked sober, and I was one hundred percent positive she didn’t want to go to the concession booth for more stale popcorn.

“I only have one condition,” she warned.

Was it the moon she wanted me to give her? I was open to that. I’d give her the sun, too. I just needed a little time, and maybe a loan or two.

And definitely good life insurance.

“Lay it on me.”

“I don’t want to become one of your Tesses or Melanies. No one-night only rule for us.” She shook her head. “I want you to treat me with respect and care. I know we’re casual, but …” She sucked in a breath, her voice dropping along with her gaze. “For me, it means something. To open up again. Promise you won’t break my trust, West.”

It was the drunkenness of the moment that made me do it.

Forget about my oath to myself. Piss all over my promise not to make any promises.

All I thought about was being inside Grace. To drown in her purity, hoping some of it would rub off on me.

“Promise.”

The word rolled out of my mouth before I could stop it, tasting like ash. I couldn’t take it back. It was there, between us. Alive, swelling, and growing by the nanosecond, pressing against my sternum, making it hard to breathe.

Promise.

Promise.

Promise.

Remember what happened the last time you made a promise?

Grimacing at my own stupidity, I took her hand.

“Let’s dip.”

Twelve minutes later (yes, I counted), we were in front of Texas’ house. Marla had just finished her shift, skipping down the porch’s steps, pushing a cigarette into her mouth and lighting it up.

“That’s all she wrote, kids. Have fun and keep your hands to yourselves. You especially, St. Claire.”

Grace stood on the first stairway leading to her doorway. The sunset smeared across the sky in pink and orange around her, making her look like a fallen angel.

Apparently, I was now taking note of the fucking scenery and waxing poetic.

I wanted my balls back, but I wanted them slamming against Grace’s pussy even more.

“Do you want to come inside?” She jerked her thumb behind her shoulder after Marla left.

“Any man who tells you differently is buying expired condoms in bulk.” I leaned against Christina casually, trying hard to pretend I didn’t care, when I’d already proven to be so far gone for this chick I wasn’t even in the same zip code as my fucking brain anymore.