The kiss was nothing like I'd imagined. It was harder, more desperate, years of suppressed want exploding between us. His hands cupped my face while mine fisted in his damp shirt, and when his tongue swept into my mouth, I made a sound that was probably too loud.

He walked me backward until my back hit his desk, his body pressing against mine, and I could feel how hard he was through his swim trunks.

"This is insane," he said against my mouth. "You're Harper's best friend. You're nineteen. I'm forty-two. This is—"

"I don't care," I interrupted, my hands sliding under his shirt to find warm skin and defined...