So they you guys for the reviews and I as the writer is torn between Sam and Cam. They both have appealing qualities...well except Cam having a girlfriend. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this sexy chapter. Those Evans boys sure do know how get Mercedes worked up.

MERCEDES

Maybe it's PMS. Maybe it's just the stress of too much change too quickly. I have no idea really, but I feel like all of a sudden, my life is a train wreck. And most of the wreckage revolves around two guys. Two guys who, for totally different reasons, are tearing me up inside. Two guys I want. Two guys I can't have. Two guys I can't stop thinking about. I want Sam— badly— on a purely physical level, although he is cute and charming, which only adds to the danger level. But I want Cam just as badly, in a different way. There's a physical component for sure. He turns me on something fierce. But he's just the kind of guy that I want, that I need in my life. I don't think I retained a single word from any of my three classes today. I'm more thankful than ever that a lot of it is fluff stuff—statistics, sociology, and body mechanics, which is like the college version of gym class.

By the time I get back home, I'm exhausted. More emotionally than physically, but it ends up feeling like the same thing. In the quiet of the house, knowing I'll have it all to myself for two weeks (a fact which I learned accidentally rather than Marissa actually telling me herself), I decide to lie down on the couch to take a short nap. I wake up at four thirty, feeling no better. Just dead-headed. I'm still feeling icky in general, so I reach for my phone and call Rachel. I get her voice mail, which informs me she's with her mom picking out flowers for the wedding. The only other really close friend I have is April, the bartender I worked with at Tad's for years. Thankfully, she's home. After we talk for several minutes, she gets blunt, April style.

"All right, spill it. Something's wrong."

"No, nothing's wrong."

"You're a terrible liar and I hate you for trying." I giggle.

"No, you don't." She pauses.

"Okay, I don't. But the only way you can make it up to me is to tell me what the hell's up your butt." April also has a way with words. I sigh.

"I guess I'm just missing home and friends and… I don't know. Life just feels…complicated."

"Uh-huh. This sounds like penis problems."

"Ohmigod, April! It's not penis problems. You think everything is about sex."

"Isn't it?" I laugh.

"No. It's not."

"So this has nothing to do with a guy?" I pause.

"Aha! I knew it! Penis problems."

"Well, it seems that the cause of some of my problems happens to have a penis. Well, two actually."

"Oh, sweet Mary! You're dating a guy with two dicks?"

"April, no! It's about two different guys."

"Oh," she says, obviously disappointed. "Damn. That woulda been kinda cool."

"How so?"

"I don't know. One for each hole?"

"You're sick, you know that?"

"Yeah, pretty much." I laugh again.

"At least you're not afraid to admit it."

"Girl, I own it! I'm too old to pretend to be something I'm not. Takes too much effort. Just like faking orgasms. If you don't bring your A-game, don't bother showing up at all. I've only got a limited number of orgasmic years left. I plan to squeeze every last drop of pleasure out of them that I can. And I do mean squeeze."

I roll my eyes and shake my head. After a few more minutes of wildly inappropriate shock-and-awe talk, April promises to come take me out for drinks tonight, which actually sounds like a lifeline. We make plans to meet at a pub she's familiar with downtown and, by the time we're hanging up, I'm already feeling more lighthearted. I'm finishing my second drink when my cell phone rings. My heart sinks when I see April's number.

"Where are you?" I ask without preamble.

"I can't make it tonight, sweetie. Tad needs some help. Norma called in sick and he needs the help. I just turned around to head back home. I'm so sorry, Merce. I'll make it up to you. I promise." I grit my teeth.

"That's fine, April. We'll do it another time."

"In the meantime, get those penis problems fixed. Every henhouse needs a cock, but only the special hens can handle more than one. Try 'em out , then pick one and stick with it. You're not old enough to play with two toys at the same time. That's cougar territory."

"I'll try to remember that," I say derisively.

"You just send the rejected one my way. I'll make him forget all about you. At least for a few hours." She laughs in her gravelly smoker's voice. "Talk soon, sweetie. Smooches." And then she's gone.

I hang up and look around the bar. As much as I really don't want to go back to an empty house and think about all my troubles, I don't really want to stay here by myself, either. With a depressed sigh, I slide a few dollars under my empty glass and scoot off the bar stool, digging my keys out of my purse as I go.

Try 'em out, then pick one and stick with it.

April's words run through my head. They sound ludicrous! And completely slutty. But at the same time… No matter how much I want it to work, the thing with Cam is impossible. He's dating Marissa. I mean, I saw them together this morning. Even now it makes me sick to think about it. But then I remember him brushing my face. It makes me wonder if I'm in his head like he's in mine. And then there's Sam. At least a relationship with him would be less complicated. Less meaningful, with less of a future, of course, but at least I'd know what's what.

Insane thoughts are running through my head as I get in and start the car. Or should I say try to start the car. What now? I bang my hand on the steering wheel as the lights flicker weakly. "No, no, no!" I turn on the interior light and it barely sheds a dim cone of illumination into the backseat. These are sick-car symptoms I'm familiar with, ones I know. The battery.

"You are such a piece of shit," I yell into the quiet cab, slapping the horn accidentally. It makes a sound like a wounded duck. "Don't you talk back to me! You're this close to going to car heaven at the junkyard."

Yes, it makes me feel a tiny bit better to get rid of some of my frustration, even if it means sitting outside a pub , yelling at an inanimate object. A very inanimate at the moment. Now what? I need someone to jump me. I hate to call a tow truck for something so simple. It would cost me a fortune. And my friend resource pool is frighteningly shallow here. That's what happens when you spend the first two years up a guy's ass and the third one as a wallflower. I close my eyes and try to think. As always, two faces, identical faces, float through my mind. Cam probably has plans. According to Marissa, he stays incredibly busy. I'd hate to play the damsel-in-distress card and interrupt him, no matter how much I like the thought of him coming to save me. Then I think of Sam. He owns his own business and disappears for hours at a time pretty regularly each night. Plus he's just a few blocks away. He would be the logical choice. But remembering our last conversation, my stomach flutters with nerves wondering what he might ask for in the form of payment. I can't deny that the prospect excites me, though.

Try 'em out.

Pushing April's voice out of my head, I reach for my cell phone and pick out Sam's number from the contact list. He answers on the second ring.

"Sam, this is Mercedes."

"What's up?" he says abruptly.

His clipped tone surprises me. I don't know what I expected, but this isn't it. Maybe I thought he'd be all schmoozy and sexy, and try to talk me into sleeping with him. The sad thing is, I'm a little disappointed that he's not.

"Am I bothering you? Because I can totally—"

"You're not bothering me. What's up?" he repeats.

"Well, I hate to call you over something like this, but my car battery is dead, I think, and I'm sort of stuck. I was wondering if you could come and jump me. I'm just a few blocks away."

There's a pause. And it feels like a long pause, especially when I'm already on pins and needles. I think for a second of just hanging up. How childish would that be? Yeah, after doing something that embarrassing, I'd be forced to quit Dual, quit school, move back home, and leave all my recent humiliation behind in the big city. And as drastic as that sounds, sometimes it seems incredibly appealing. But I don't. I just wait. While my face burns in humiliation.

"Tell me where you are." I give him the address. "Will you be all right for about fifteen minutes? There's just something I have to do before I can leave, but then I'll be right there."

"That's fine. Take your time."

"Can you go back inside and have a drink while you wait? I don't like the idea of you sitting outside in your car by yourself. You are by yourself, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm alone. But I'll be fine. I just—"

"Mercedes, I really don't like it. Can't you just go back inside? Consider it a favor." When he puts it like that…

"Okay. I'll go back inside. Just call me when you get here."

"See you in a few," he says, then hangs up.

Tossing my phone in my purse, I pull down the visor and check my makeup. I know I shouldn't care, but I'm glad I got all dolled up to meet April. After I reapply a little rose lipstick, I run my fingers through my straight hair and adjust my red off-the-shoulder shirt. Back inside, I order a beer. It's inexpensive, so I don't mind leaving it when Sam shows up, plus sipping it won't give me a buzz. Twenty minutes pass and I've checked my phone for the sixth time. I'm beginning to wonder if everyone's going to stand me up tonight when the door swings open and I look up to see Sam striding toward me. My mouth goes completely dry when his eyes meet mine and he smiles a lopsided, cocky grin. I wish his long legs didn't devour the space between us so quickly. I could just look at him, just watch him move all day long. He's built so perfectly and he looks stunningly edible in his "work clothes" of snug black jeans, a snug black T-shirt, and black boots. It sets off his wide shoulders, his narrow waist, and the honey color of his skin. And those eyes. Damn those green eyes. They sparkle in his handsome face. By the time he gets to me, I'm debating the need for a change of panties. I start to slide off my stool, but he stops me.

"Finish your beer," he says, then nods to the bartender. "Jack. Neat." When the bartender slides his drink across to him, Sam takes a sip, then turns to me, as if he's settling in. "So, why are you here, drinking all by yourself tonight?" Nervously, I use my thumbnail to scrape at the label on my beer bottle.

"I was supposed to be meeting someone, but they had to cancel. After I'd already gotten here, of course," I explain, bitterness dripping from my voice.

"Want me to kick his ass?" he asks. I look up at him, and he's grinning at me over the top of his glass.

"No. You might be embarrassed when she gets the better of you."

"Ahhhh, your butch girlfriend?" His eyes are twinkling. He's teasing me. And enjoying himself tremendously, apparently. This is more like what I was expecting when I called. Well, not even this much, really. This playfulness is unexpected and very… disarming. Don't let him charm you. But then I think of April's words again. And I get a little bolder.

"No, I'm not into girls. I very much like…men." I can't help but wonder if the vampy in my head comes across as campy instead. Too late.

"I got the feeling you might be last night." He arches that one brow and his lips twitch with the smile he's containing. Holy shit! He's so effing sexy.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's kinda hard to describe," he says, leaning toward me and lowering his voice. "But I'd be happy to show you if you like."

There's a dare in his eyes. But I just don't know if I'm up for all that he's offering. Can I go there without letting my heart get involved? I clear my throat and look back at my beer bottle, backing down simply out of a need for self-preservation. Smart guy that he is, he picks up on the shift in my mood.

"So," he says in a very nonchalant manner, "tell me all about Mercedes." I shrug.

"There's not much to tell. I'm from Salt Springs. I grew up on my father's sheep farm and I'm a senior in college."

"Wow, a lifetime reduced to two sentences. I'm not sure if I'm impressed or depressed. Were there boyfriends and parties mixed in there? Or…" I smile.

"Yeah, there were a few of each. I wasn't a wild child, but I wasn't a shut-in, either. Just average, I guess."

"There's nothing average about you," Sam says quietly. My eyes fly to his. He's not smiling and he doesn't appear to be teasing me, which triggers my blush.

"Thank you." We stare at each other for a few seconds, right up until the air starts crackling with electricity between us. That's when I look away.

"So what's your major?"

"Accounting."

"Accounting? Accounting is for spinsters who wear their hair in a bun and have a closet full of orthopedic shoes. Why'd you pick accounting?" I laugh at his vision.

"I'm good with numbers. Plus, with an accounting degree I'll be able to help Dad with the business. It just makes sense."

"So you're doing it for your dad?"

"Partly." He nods slowly. The expression on his face says he doesn't believe me, but he says nothing. He just changes the subject.

"What about Mom?"

"She left. A long time ago." His eyes narrow on me, but again he says nothing. He's a very perceptive guy. "And this bad-boy boyfriend?"

"Bad boy?"

"Yeah. The type you apparently avoid now."

"Oh, right." I laugh. It's one single bark of bitterness. "Ummm, he fell into a wood chipper?" I ask, hoping he'll get the hint that I don't really want to talk about him, either. He pauses with his drink halfway to his mouth, as if judging whether I'm serious, and then he grins and takes a sip.

"Poor guy. And the one before that?"

"Eaten by a shark?"

"And before that?"

"Kidnapped by a traveling circus?" He chuckles.

"Wow. Your life's like a cautionary tale."

"Future suitors be warned."

"I'm willing to take my chances," he says with a wink.

My stomach flutters in response and my heart does a funny flip that is, in and of itself, a huge red flag. Change the subject! Change the subject!

"So, what about your family?" That cools his teasing mood considerably.

"A long, horrible story, too awful for the likes of your tender ears."

"Oh, is that so? So you can ask all kinds of questions, but this is all I get?" I'm only half teasing. I really do want him to answer some questions, especially while I've got my wits about me. Somewhat, anyway.

"My questionable upbringing and suspicious connections might make you shake in your boots," he jokes with a not-quite-half smile. I turn on my stool and look down at my feet .

"I'm not wearing boots."

"I can see that," Sam says, reaching down to brush his palm up my calf. "No pantyhose, either."

A bubble of air is trapped in my throat, making it impossible for me to breathe. Chills break out and shoot up my leg, straight into my panties. He looks up at me, his eyes flashing. I know what he wants. And I know he knows I want it, too. It's there in his eyes. There's no reason for me to even try to deny it. But what to do about it? In my indecision, I turn my legs back toward the bar, away from his hand. He smiles. Knowingly. But he goes along. For now. He finishes his drink in one long pull, then turns to me. I push my beer away.

"You ready?" Talk about your loaded question! I nod. I'm not sure what all I just agreed to, but every nerve in my body is alive with anticipation.

"Come on," he says with a tip of his head and a wicked grin. "Let's go get you off." I can't help but smile.

SAM

I can't keep my hands off Mercedes as we leave the bar. Not completely, anyway. As she steps out in front of me, I put my hand at the base of her spine. I feel her twitch at the contact. It's not a flinch, but an actual twitch. Like I shocked her with a small electrical current. Like she's feeling everything I'm feeling. And I'd bet any amount of money she is. It's sexual awareness. It's attraction. It's anticipation. She's made her choice. She doesn't have to tell me, or even admit it to herself, but she's made it nonetheless. I can feel it. I walk her out to her car. My bike is parked sideways in front of it. She stops when we get close to it.

"Is this what you drive?" she asks, turning those wide eyes up to me.

"Yes," I say, but then I add with a smirk, "but you're not surprised, are you? Isn't this what bad boys do? Ride motorcycles and break hearts?" Her smile is weak.

"I suppose so."

She turns away and moves around to unlock the car door and pop the hood. I shouldn't have said that. I unstrap the jumper cables I brought from behind the seat and hook them from my battery to hers.

"Will that be enough to jump-start my car?"

"Should be. Go give it a try."

I watch Mercedes as she slides in behind the wheel to give it a crank. The engine doesn't turn over; it just makes a clicking sound. She shakes her head and gets back out.

"It's not working."

"You think?" I tease. She tilts her head to the side and gives me a dirty look. Damn, she's adorable. "The reason for that is that it sounds like the alternator, not the battery." She slumps over the car door.

"Ohmigod ! That's expensive, isn't it?" she mumbles.

"It's not cheap. But I know a guy." I say it in my best mobster voice. She looks up and grins.

"Those suspicious connections, huh? Can you get me some concrete boots while you're at it"

"Probably," I say, deadpan. I see a frown flicker across her forehead. She doesn't know whether I'm joking. "Get your stuff. I'll take you home. I'll have my buddy come get your car and we'll figure something out tomorrow." She looks undecided, tapping her fingers along the door frame. "It'll be fine here for a little while. I don't think anybody will mess with it." She snorts. And then looks embarrassed that she did.

"In a way, I'd almost be relieved."

"Hey, I know a guy…" I say.

She laughs outright. And I love the sound. Makes me think of tickling her. In bed. While she's naked. Lying on top of me. Without further argument, she locks up the car and comes to stand beside my bike. She shrugs her shoulders.

"What now?"

"You've never ridden a motorcycle before?"

"Nope."

"What kind of bad-boy girlfriend are you? " I ask in mock dismay.

"Evidently a terrible one." I swing onto the bike and grab my only helmet.

"Nah , you just haven't met the right bad boy." Her cheeks flush a little. I want to kiss her. Again. And I will. Just not right now. "Put this on and then get on behind me," I say, handing her the helmet.

Obediently, she slips it over her head and then throws one leg over the bike and scoots onto the seat. I see her long, bare legs clamp around my hips and I look back at her. Her eyes are shining behind the raised shield of the helmet as she situates herself against me.

"Put your arms around my waist and hold on." Her eyes never leaving mine, she leans in close and slides her hands around to my stomach. I can feel that plump chest of hers against my back and I jerk inside my jeans. I turn around and start the engine. I let it idle for a few seconds while I regain my composure. It's hard to rid my mind of the image of her sitting in front of me, minus those shorts, with her legs wrapped around me. I'd give her the best ride home she's ever had.

With a growl, I rev the engine and ease us upright and off the kickstand. Shifting quickly into gear, we take off like a shot down the street. I love the adrenaline of my bike. I always have. I try my best to let it chase away the feel of Mercedes at my back, but I think nothing short of a week locked up in a bedroom with her can accomplish that. And oh, what a week that would be. It doesn't take long to get to her place. It's kind of a sweet torture. In a way, I wish the ride were longer. But then, in another way, I'm glad it's not. The longer she's wrapped around me and pressed up against me, the harder it is to control myself. Especially now that I know she wants me. And she's so close to giving in.

When I stop along the curb, she hesitates for a second before she gets off. She comes to stand beside me, handing me the helmet she's already removed. I hold it under my arm, against my leg, and wait for her to speak. She looks like she has something to say.

"How did you know where I live?" She doesn't sound concerned. Just curious.

"Employee forms. Remember?"

"Ahh," she murmurs with a nod. She's waiting. And I think I know for what. "So, do you want to come in?"

"I'd better get back, but thanks, anyway." She's good at hiding her disappointment. But not that good.

"Okay, well, thank you. I really appreciate you coming to help. And for the ride home, too, of course."

"Not a problem."

"So, I guess I'll talk to you tomorrow?"

"Yep. I'll be in touch." She nods again, slowly. Waiting.

"Well, good night."

I love watching her, watching her uncertainty and her hesitation. And her attempts at denying what we both know she's feeling. Teasing her is going to be so much fun. Hot, sweet, sexy, delicious fun. I reach out and brush her hair away from her cheek.

"Sweet dreams, Mercedes." I rush to put my helmet on to hide my smile from her. I want her to be ready to beg for it.

MERCEDES

I walk away from Sam before I do something stupid like proposition him. What the hell is the matter with you? Before I get more than a few steps, I remember my car. I turn back to get Sam's attention before he pulls away. I dig my keys out and take them to him. I see his frown behind the smoky shield of the helmet.

"Don't you need them to get inside?"

"I've got a spare," I explain.

He nods once and takes the keys, sliding them into his front pocket. I give him a quick smile, then hurry away. I refuse to look back at him, even though I know he's still at the curb. I can hear the throaty rumble of his idling bike. But more than that, I can feel his eyes on me. I just wish they were his hands instead. And his mouth. I shut my eyes as I reach for the spare key under the flowerpot on the small, covered porch. It's when I open my eyes to push it into the lock and open the door that I hear him accelerate away from the curb. I guess he was making sure I could get in okay without my keys. Oh, good God! Don't show me the sweet, considerate side! I won't stand a chance. After I get inside, I lean back against the door and stand there with my eyes closed until I can no longer hear even the faintest rumble of Sam's motorcycle. My legs and butt are tingling from the vibrations of the bike. The rest of me is tingling from being wrapped around Sam. Tingling or aching. Or both.

Frustrated— both sexually and with myself for my utter lack of hormone control— I flick on the light and push away from the door. The first thing I see is the vase of flowers on the coffee table in the living room. They are a bright spot of color in an otherwise fairly muted room. I walk to the spray of lilies and bend to stick my nose into one. It smells wonderful, but something pokes the corner of my mouth. It's the card announcing who they're from. I reach for the tiny square. I feel bad reading Marissa's "mail," but then again, she shouldn't leave it lying around. Or poking out of flower arrangements. As I pull the card from the envelope, I chastise myself for inflicting more torture. I'm sure they're from Cam. And I'm sure the card is probably some sweet little love note that will make me want to jump out of a tall, tall building, but that doesn't stop me. I'm too curious, so I read it, anyway. And I get a surprise.

Mercedes,

If you need anything, give me a call. I'm never far.

N.

A little thrill races down my spine. He must've used Marissa's keys to come inside and leave these for me. I can't help but wonder if he just dropped them off and left or if he stayed for a few minutes. Or walked around. Or went into my bedroom. I doubt Cam would do anything like that, and the thought that he might ought to creep me out. Only it doesn't. The idea that he might've gone to look inside my bedroom excites me for some reason. And I'm already excited enough by his dangerous brother. Feeling more and more like it's vibrator time, I get ready for bed. A vigorous tooth-brushing and face-scrubbing don't help that feeling. The brothers chase each other through my head, taunting me with their words and their eyes and their touch. By the time I slide between the sheets, I have no doubt what my dreams will be about. Or rather who my dreams will be about.

The click of the front door closing wakes me. Because I've just fallen asleep, it takes me a few seconds to determine whether I'm awake. Strangely, I feel no fear when I see the tall, vague shadow stop just outside my bedroom doorway. I recognize it instantly. I'd know that shape and that fluid way of moving anywhere.

It's Sam.

Or Cam.

I start to speak, but the words die on my lips when he moves slowly toward the bed. He stops at the foot. I've always loved how dark my room is until now. Now, I'd give anything to see him more clearly, for some clue as to which brother it is. He bends and grabs the covers, dragging them off me. Chills spread over my arms and legs, partly due to the temperature change, partly due to the guy standing at the foot of my bed. He says nothing. Neither do I. Instinctively, I know words will shatter the wicked perfection of the moment. And that's the last thing I want to do. With very deliberate movements, he reaches forward and winds his long fingers around my ankles. Slowly, he pulls me toward him, toward the end of the bed. I'm breathless. And excited. And still I say nothing. His fingers loosen their grip, but his hands don't leave me. No, instead, he slides his palms up the outsides of my calves to my knees, where he stops. I see him bend forward, and then I feel his lips on my left thigh. They're like a red-hot branding iron. His tongue flickers out to taste my skin, sending heat gushing to my core.

"I can't stop thinking about doing this to you," he whispers, so quietly I can barely hear him. "Tell me to stop now if you don't want this. If you don't want me."

Even as he speaks, his hands are skimming the outsides of my thighs, sliding under the band of my pantie . He pauses. Maybe he's waiting for me to tell him to go. Maybe he's rethinking what he's about to do. I have no idea because I don't know who's in my bed. And at the moment I don't care. I want both Sam and Cam. They both come with their own brand of trouble. Maybe not knowing which one I'm giving in to will be a good thing. For tonight, I don't care. I don't think. I only want. I feel his hands turn and his fingers curl around the elastic of my panties. He pauses a second time. I wonder again what he's thinking and what I can do to make him continue. My answer is to lift my hips off the bed. I hear air hiss through his teeth before he drags my panties down my legs. It must've been the answer he was looking for. My chest is heaving with excitement when I feel his hands again, gliding up the insides of my thighs, pushing my legs apart. He puts one knee on the bed between mine and leans down, pressing his lips to my stomach.

"All I can think about is what you taste like," he murmurs, his tongue dipping into my navel, making my muscles clench in anticipation. "And what you feel like."

I feel his palm cup me between my legs. I spread my thighs further. I'm rewarded with pure bliss when he slides a single finger inside me. He groans.

"Oh my God, you're so wet." He pushes another finger into me. "All this for me," he whispers, moving his fingers in and out as I raise my hips to meet him. His lips move down my belly and I feel his shoulders settle between my legs. His warm breath tickles me just before I feel the first stroke of his hot tongue. My back arches off the bed.

"Mmm, even sweeter than I imagined," he moans, his fingers still moving inside me.

With lips and tongue, he licks and sucks until I feel the familiar tension of an orgasm building inside me. My hips move against him, grinding against his mouth as his fingers penetrate me harder and harder, faster and faster. I fist my fingers in his hair, holding him to me when the world breaks apart. Light and heat explode behind my eyes and I cry out. I feel his hands come around my hips to hold me still and he finishes me off, burying his hot, wet tongue inside me, licking me from the inside. My pulse is throbbing in every part of my body when I feel him move up to pull my tank top over my head. I'm limp beneath his hands when they cup my breasts, teasing the hard points of my nipples. He draws one into his mouth, gently nibbling it with his teeth, intensifying the waves of pleasure coursing through me. I raise my hands to his shoulders and feel only smooth skin. He's not wearing a shirt. I thread my fingers through his hair when he moves his head to my other breast. He teases and taunts it as well. He moves again and his lips are on mine. His tongue slips into my mouth to taunt mine, licking at it. I draw it into my mouth and close my lips around it, sucking gently. When I release it, I hear his hoarse whisper.

"See how good you taste?" I cup his face and lap up the wetness from around his mouth, from down on his chin. He groans loudly, his body moving against mine.

"That's right, baby. You like that, don't you?"

I hear his zipper followed by the rustle of his pants as he moves to push them down his legs. I use my heels to help him, reveling in the feel of his bare skin against the insides of my thighs. He flexes his hips and I feel the tip of his hardness slip between my folds. He makes tiny movements, sliding back and forth, stroking me with his body.

"Just so you know," he says breathlessly, "I'm clean. Tell me you are, too, and that you're on the pill," he begs.

"Yes," I answer breathlessly, the only word I've spoken since his arrival.

He comes up onto his elbows where he's poised above me. I can feel him looking down into my face even though I know he can't see me any better than I can see him. There is a smile in his voice when he says,

"Perfect!"

And then slides into me. I feel like whimpering when he stops far short of full penetration and pulls out again. I want to cry at the loss. But I don't have time. He moves in again, farther this time, letting me get used to his size before he pulls out once more. He continues to tease me, each time filling me up a little farther, bringing me closer to the edge again, until I'm ready to scream.

"Say it," he whispers, taunting me with the tip as he moves in and out in quick, short strokes.

Reaching up, I fist my fingers in his hair and pull his mouth to mine. I use my lips and tongue to plead with him, to show him every ounce of my desire. I sink my teeth into his bottom lip and I lift my hips, hoping to bring him fully inside. But he pulls back, again only giving me part of himself.

"Say it," he demands. I'm panting with need, the threat of another orgasm tightening my muscles as I squeeze his hips between my legs, begging with my body. Still, he resists, never allowing his body to move more than a few inches into mine before retreating.

"Say it," he repeats a third time. I lick a trail from the base of his throat all the way to his ear, where I force out between shallow breaths the single word he wants to hear.

"Please."

As he bends his head, his mouth covers mine and he drives his body deep into mine, stealing my breath. He gives me every inch of length and girth as he moves violently within me, stretching me tight over and over again, driving me closer and closer to ecstasy. His lips move over the skin of my face and neck to the valley between my breasts. Blood pumps to my tingling nipples when his mouth moves toward them. I arch my back, pressing my chest toward him, begging for the feel of his hot mouth and wet tongue.

"Come for me," he says softly, drawing my nipple into his mouth and flicking it with his tongue. As if to punctuate his request, he grinds his hips into mine and bites down on my nipple. "Come for me, baby," he growls again.

It's all the motivation I need. Tightening around him, I give in to my second orgasm, glorying in the friction of his hips against mine as he rubs me into a wave of the purest pleasure. I'm breathless as he pounds harder into me. I feel my body gripping his, milking it. His tempo increases with his breathing until, suddenly, he stiffens.

"Mercedes," he moans heavily, coming and spilling heat and passion deep inside me. His movements slow, but he remains buried inside me, making the spasms of my body squeezing his even more pronounced.

We remain like that for a couple of perfect minutes. When neither of us has anything left to give, he collapses onto me and we lie in a tangle of damp limbs and heaving chests. With his weight braced on his forearms, he nestles his face in the curve of my neck and presses a soft, wet kiss to the skin beneath my ear. He says nothing, but his warm, heavy breath dries it. My heart is filled with emotion, my head is spinning with questions, and my body is throbbing in the aftermath. There is so much to think about and worry over and contemplate, yet it seems so very… unimportant. Conflict rages inside me. In a thousand years, I would never have thought I could fall asleep like that. But I do.

Dawn is just breaking when I open my eyes. Hot kisses and great sex are the first things that enter my mind. I look around at my empty room. There's no evidence of any naughty nighttime visitors. In fact, I might've convinced myself I'd dreamed the whole thing if it weren't for the soreness I feel between my legs when I move. I smile. It's a pleasant soreness, one that reminds me of the massive instrument that inflicted it. Good God, did you just call it an instrument? I giggle. I can't seem to help it. I'm happy. Very happy. At least for the moment. I should be tired, but I'm not. I feel rejuvenated and ready to face the day.

"Maybe April's right. Maybe sex is actually good for me," I mumble into the quiet.

The walls absorb the sound and remind me that I have the place all to myself. Marissa is gone for another couple of weeks. That alone is reason to celebrate. Thoughts of her bring me to thoughts of Cam. What if it had been him who visited me last night? I hadn't been able to see clearly enough in the dark to identify whether the delicious chest above me had a tattoo on it. How will I know? For a moment, I'm lost in memories of the feel of smooth, taut skin beneath my fingertips, of rippling muscles in long arms and broad shoulders, of slim hips clamped between my thighs. Just the thought of that is enough to leave me feeling damp and wanting. Throwing off the covers, I head to the shower. As I scrub and buff, I search my mind for clues that might hint at which brother gave me such an incredible night. I think they are both perfectly capable of making me feel that way, and nothing that happened seemed like something only one would do or say. Especially say, as not many words were used. I smile at the thought. Not many words were needed. Entry isn't an issue.

Sam has my keys;

Cam has Marissa's.

Attraction isn't an issue. Both brothers have made it very clear we have an intensely physical connection. Willingness might be the only area there's a discrepancy. Sam has made it very clear he's interested in a physical relationship with me. Cam, on the other hand, is taken and he's trying to do the right thing. But then I remember it wasn't Cam who stopped us on the rooftop. If I hadn't brought us to a halt, would we have had sex up there, on a chaise longue where Cam has probably sat with Marissa? The more I think, the muddier things get and the more questions and concerns I develop. So I put it out of my head. Surely I'll be able to tell when I see Sam whether we had sex. Surely.

After dressing, I make my way into the kitchen to brew some coffee. I'm surprised when I hear my phone ring from my bedroom. I race to get it. My stomach flutters when I see Cam's name on the lighted screen. What does such an early call mean? That he was with me until a little while ago? Or he got a good night's sleep, which means he wasn't here? I slide my finger across the screen to answer it.

"Hello?" There's a pause.

"Did I wake you?"

"No, I'm actually making coffee."

"Oh, good. I wouldn't want to disturb you. I assumed you'd have your alerts off and I'd get your voice mail. I just wanted to make sure you saw the flowers I left."

I'm a little deflated. That doesn't sound like something the guy who just explored my entire naked body with his tongue might say.

"Yes, I saw them when I came in last night."

"Perfect. I just wanted you to feel free to call me if you need anything while Marissa's away."

"Um, I will. Uh, thanks."

"I'll let you get back to your coffee, then. I've got to get to work. Early meetings."

"Okay. Thanks for the flowers, Cam."

"It was my pleasure, Mercedes." I hear a smile in his voice. Don't I? Chills remain on my arms long after he hangs up. Just hearing him say my name reminds me of the night before, of that voice moaning my name as he was coming. Only it obviously didn't belong to Cam. It belonged to his brother. I'm not entirely surprised to find out it was Sam. The whole scenario fits his character more than it does Cam's. Only a bad boy would come, uninvited, into a girl's house and wake her up to seduce her in her own bedroom. And only a bad boy would think I wouldn't mind. I have to smile. He's got nerve. I'll give him that. But he was right. I didn't mind. In fact, I didn't mind. In fact, I didn't mind twice. And probably wouldn't have minded a third and fourth time if I hadn't fallen asleep like a loser. It's been a while and I forgot how incredibly relaxing great sex is. I'm just sitting down at the dining room table to do some reading before class when my phone rings again. This time the screen shows Sam's name, but my reaction is the same. My stomach flutters with excitement.

"Hello?"

"Good morning, gorgeous. You up?"

"Yep," I say, unable to keep the grin from my voice.

"So, your car is at my buddy's shop. It's definitely the alternator."

"Shit," I mumble, my early-morning buzz succumbing to the realities of owning a piece-of-crap car. "Any idea how much something like that's gonna cost me?"

"For you? Nothing. He owes me a favor."

"I can't let you do that, Sam."

"I suppose you're going to stop me?" he says derisively.

"I'm being serious. That's too much. I can't accept a gift like that."

"You can and you will. Besides, don't think of it as a gift. You'll be paying me back." My smile returns and my nerves sing with exhilaration. I can't wait to hear what he has in mind.

"Is that right?"

"Yep. Starting with an extra shift next week if you can swing it."

I'm disappointed again. That's not nearly as sexy as I expected it to be. After last night, surely he knows I'd be more than happy to pay him back in any number of ways and positions. Unless he's not my late-night visitor after all.

What kind of a floozy doesn't know who she slept with the night before? I roll my eyes. And who uses the word floozy?

One name comes to mind. Tracey, my mother. That's her word. Shaking my head, I get back to important things. Like who spent part of last night tickling my ovaries. As I think about it, the thing that bothers me most is that neither guy is amorous enough this morning for me to be able to accurately determine the culprit. How sad is that? Ohmigod! Have I lost my touch? Do I suddenly suck in bed? Sam's clearing his throat reminds me he's awaiting my answer.

"Oh, uh, you know I'll do whatever I can to pay you back, but it kinda depends on the night. I can't be out too—"

"Oh, you won't be out very late. This is an accounting project I'd like you to look at. I just ask that you don't put your hair in a bun or wear orthopedic shoes." I laugh at his vision.

"Fine. I guess I can work my numeric magic without the tools of my trade."

"I'm sure you can," he says absently. "In the meantime, however, you'll need a ride to school, right?"

"Um, yeah." I didn't even think of that. These guys have really scrambled my brain. "I guess I will."

"Give me ten minutes and I'll be there to get you."

My brain finally starts working and I begin to think like a rational person. If Sam takes me to school, I'll have no way home unless I call a taxi, which will get expensive since I'll have to take one to work and back all weekend until my car gets fixed.

"You know, I can skip school today. It's not like I'm taking any really hard classes now, anyway. That way I won't have to impose on you any more than I already have."

"You're not imposing on me. I don't mind."

"I'd really rather not bother you. Really. I'll just see you tonight."

"Get dressed. Be ready. I'll be there in ten." With that, he hangs up, giving me no choice in the matter. Almost exactly ten minutes later, I hear the deep rumble of Sam's bike. I feel it in my stomach, like it breathed excitement into my body in a very physical way. Try as I might to keep my distance from him, it's clear I'm getting into a bad place with Sam. And the worst part of it is, I don't think I want to stop. I don't wait for him to come to the door. Rather, I go out to meet him, carefully locking the door behind me. Sam is straddling his glossy black-and-chrome bike. His jeans— blue for a change— are stretched tight across his thighs and his plain white tee is snug over his chest. His dark blond hair is disheveled, as always, making my fingers itch to run through it. But it's his face that makes me catch my breath. He's more handsome than any guy I've ever seen in real life, and there's something about his eyes and his smile today that seem to sear the air between us, setting it on fire. And even though I know the risk, I want to jump headfirst into the flames.