When we enter the kitchen at home, Claire eyes us and gives me a wink—Avery doesn’t notice our silent exchange. Honestly, I think Claire is almost as excited about my date night with Avery as I am.

“Max is already asleep, and I think he’s actually sleeping tonight,” Claire says, giving her friend a quick hug and then gathering her things.

“Okay, that’s good. I’ve got a paper to write tonight,” Avery says, and I can’t help but feel a little disappointment. Claire laughs at me, shaking her head before heading out the back door.

“You need anything to eat?” Avery asks, pulling out the bread and peanut butter. I help her with the jar and slide it back to her. Her hand is better today, but she still has a bandage wrapped over the side.

“Well, I’m a little hungry, but I’m not sure I want to eat a sack lunch for dinner,” I joke. She shrugs and continues to make her sandwich.

“Suit yourself,” she says, licking the leftover peanut butter off the dull end of the butter knife. I’ve never wanted to be a knife more in my entire life; seeing her tongue slide up the edge of the metal has my mind flipping through a dozen various inappropriate thoughts.

She takes three large bites, and her sandwich is almost gone. I’m staring at her in awe, watching her pull the milk from the fridge and drink it right from the carton in front of me too. “What?” she says, her mouth muffled from the bite still inside. She raises the carton to hand it over to me. I shake my head and laugh. “It’s not like you haven’t shared my cooties.”

“Ave, believe me, I LOVE sharing your cooties. It’s just kind of nice seeing you relax, and honestly, watching you chug milk right from the carton is kinda…well…hot,” I say, my eyes almost daring her with the way I’m looking at her.

At first, she makes a tight smile and looks down, a little embarrassed. But then she reaches into the freezer to grab an ice cube, and when she turns her attention back to me, she’s making an entirely different face. Her eyes are hooded, and her smile is soft and wicked.

“You mean, hot like this?” She says, holding the ice cube between two fingers and sucking on the end, making sure I can see her tongue run a slow circle around the entire thing. She drags it slowly across her lips, her eyes on mine the entire time. I almost grab her then and replace the ice with my own tongue, but I stop when she slowly trails the cube down her chin and to her neck, drawing a wet line along her collarbone before softly circling it over the rise of her breast.

Fuck me. I’m usually pretty good with signs, but for some reason, this girl has me second-guessing everything. My feet are twitching with the need to charge at her, but my brain is waiting for a clear signal. Avery must sense my hesitation, though, because she steps toward me slowly, reaching for my hand, and placing the melting ice in my palm before pulling the edges of her T-shirt up slowly.

That’s enough of a sign for me, and soon I’m helping her pull the shirt entirely over her head, pushing her back against the counter. We’re far enough in the corner that we would be able to move to the living room to hide if someone came in.

Unable to take it, I kiss her hard, my tongue diving deep into her mouth, tangling with hers. The feeling of the cold from the ice only makes me want to explore her more, and I suck her bottom lip into my mouth, grazing my teeth against it when I finally let go. As soon as my lips leave hers, she lets out a faint cry, and it drives me absolutely crazy.

My hand starts at her cheek, and then I move it slowly along her neck and shoulders, pulling her bra straps down against her arms. She’s arching for me, and I know she wants me to touch her desperately, but I won’t—not yet. Instead, I stand in front of her and look at her bare skin, not touching her, until her eyes open to mine, and she’s practically begging.

I move closer, and take the ice in my hand, drawing it slowly along her neck and down her breast, right to the edge of her bra line, forcing her to pant. I hold it there, and I stare into her eyes, just watching her breathe—in and out, her rhythm the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

I move my lips to her chest and grip the lace trim of her bra in my teeth, pulling it away from her skin slowly until her nipple is exposed. I blow gently, just long enough for her to think I’m going to pull it into my mouth, and then I move to the next one and do the same.

When I back away again, her eyes are closed, and her breathing is rapid. Seeing her stand there—her br**sts barely exposed and being held up by the stretched white lace bra—has me so goddamned hard, I think about speeding this up. But I know these opportunities won’t come often, so I’m going to make sure this one lasts.