Tonight we chill. Have some fun. Isabella’s brain kept circling Danny’s words as she spent the afternoon avoiding texts and phone calls from friends and colleagues who’d seen the Charlotte Times article.

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She’d even managed to avoid her parents, firing off a text echoing what Danny had told her father—she was okay, they’d deal with the reporter, and it would all be forgotten by the time the gala took place.

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Not that she believed any of it. Olivia Flores had reopened a wound she’d spent years trying to ignore.

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By the time Danny knocked on her door and asked if she was ready for pizza and a movie, her nerves were shot, and she was desperate for a distraction.

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And Danny was one hell of a distraction.

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It didn’t help that he’d changed into a pair of faded blue jeans that sat low on his hips and hugged his muscular thighs, or that he wore a ridiculous dinosaur-print Hawaiian shirt that clung to his chest, leaving no doubt he was in peak physical shape. His feet were bare, adding to the casual beach look she found unreasonably sexy.

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She picked a movie that had just left the theaters and moved to streaming, and they settled onto the couch with plates of pizza, a glass of wine for her, and a beer for him.

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The movie held her attention—barely. Enough to keep her gaze from drifting to Danny, seated close, but not touching. It didn’t dull her awareness of him, however. His aftershave teased her senses. His size made her feel petite and feminine.

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A second glass of wine might be necessary. Her hormones were on a knife’s edge.

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When the movie ended, Danny rose, gathering their plates to take them to the kitchen.

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She wasn’t ready to be alone. “How about a game?—But not Truth or Dare.” As much as she wanted to grill Danny about how he felt about her in high school, or what his life had been like since, her emotions were too close to the surface to handle probing questions in return.

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He turned from where he was loading the dishes into the dishwasher, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Strip poker?”

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A rush of heat traveled to her core and made her thighs clench. Her cheeks blazed. Why not? She’d been drooling over him all night. “I don’t know how to play poker. How about strip trivia?” At least with trivia she stood a chance of him losing more clothes than she did.

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And that was a sight she was most definitely looking forward to.

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Danny barked out a laugh. “Strip trivia? Why do I feel like this is a trap? You’re way smarter than me.”

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She gave him a practiced pout and batted her lashes. “If you’re worried, I’ll make it a fair fight and choose random questions.”

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His gaze slid lazily over her white V-neck shirt, black yoga pants, and white socks. “You’re wearing more than me. That’s not fair.”

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“Afraid you’ll lose?” Recklessness gave her voice a seductive edge. She toed off her socks and held them up. “There, that makes us almost even.”

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His answering grin was slow. Predatory. “Babe, no matter what happens, I’m already a winner.”

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Her body reacted to his blatant sexual appraisal. Breasts heavy. Skin hypersensitive. She ignored the rational part of her brain and searched for a trivia site on her phone, holding up her selection for Danny’s approval.

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“I’ll go first.” She glanced at the question and smirked. “When hyenas gather, what are they called?”

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Danny narrowed his eyes. “What the hell kind of question is that?”

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“A completely random one.” She crossed her heart. “I swear.”

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“Pack seems too obvious. How about a gang?”

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Isabella giggled. “A cackle.”

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“I don’t believe you. Show me.”

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When she turned her phone around to show him the answer, he shook his head and stood, unbuttoning his shirt with a dramatic flourish.

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Her gaze fixed on his sculpted muscles and a light sprinkling of blond chest hair he hadn’t had at nineteen. On his right side, from shoulder to torso, he had a black tattoo of the Navy SEAL’s trident insignia superimposed over the American flag in full, glorious color. Over his left ribcage, a bone frog and the name Joe Logan tattooed beneath it.

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Her heart sank—even as her mouth went dry at all that honed, male flesh. One of his teammates?

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Now wasn’t the time to ask.

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Danny grinned. “Like what you see?”

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Her cheeks heated as her gaze fell away.

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“My turn.” Danny took her phone. “What’s the name of White Stripes’s drummer?” He chuckled. “Nathan would know that one.”

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Nathan. The giant, scary-looking man who’d helped rescue her and her family in Greece.

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“Is Nathan your boss?”

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“One of them. No stalling.”

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She huffed a defeated breath. “I have no clue.”

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Her pulse hammered in her throat. She avoided Danny’s eyes as she lifted her shirt over her head.

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Pretend you’re at the beach and wearing a bikini top. For a split second she wished her bra was black and lacy, not plain white cotton.

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Danny’s throat moved beneath an audible swallow. “Meg White.”

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“Who’s Meg White?” And why was she out of air?

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“White Stripes’s drummer.” The rasp in his voice made her stomach flip. “Your turn.”

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She glanced at her phone. “What was the name of the whale in the 1993 movie, ‘Free Willy?”

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“Willy.”

“Nope. Keiko.”

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His brow arched. “No fair. You didn’t clarify if you meant the whale’s real name or stage name.”

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He stood, his hand moving to the button on the front of his jeans.

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Isabella’s breath caught and held.

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She’d agreed to this game. Was she brave enough to see it through?

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The sound of Danny’s zipper was overly loud in the quiet room.

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She glimpsed black boxer briefs, and her courage fled.

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Danny’s jeans hit the floor. He settled back onto the couch. “Your turn.”

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She handed him the phone with unsteady fingers. All that bare skin, smooth muscle, and the outline of what God blessed him with beneath those briefs.

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Her fingers itched to trace his skin.

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No. Forget fingers.

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Her tongue.

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A hot flash burned her from the inside, scorching her lungs.

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“What is the fear of flutes called?”

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The question yanked her back into the game. “Fear of flutes? There cannot possibly be such a thing.”

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Humor brightened the blue in his eyes. “According to this trivia game—which you selected—there is.”

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Her brain scrambled for a more formal name for a flute and came up blank. “Flutophobia?”

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“Aulophobia.”

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“These questions are silly.” She contemplated her yoga pants.

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You’re at the beach. You’re at the beach.

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This was a mistake.

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She didn’t stop.

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Standing with her back to Danny, she shimmied out of her pants before she could change her mind.

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At least she wasn’t wearing a thong.

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Her skin prickled, as if Danny’s gaze were a physical caress, heating it with his touch.

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Maybe it was.

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She drew a breath and turned.

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Desire blazed in Danny’s eyes.

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Then he blinked, and a mask dropped, smoothing his expression.

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But the glimpse she’d seen was enough to let her know he was anything but indifferent.

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She pulled up the next trivia question and sighed—partially in disgust and partially in relief—because she wasn’t sure if she was prepared for naked Danny. “You’re going to get this one. In NATO’s phonetic alphabet, what is the letter ‘A’ stand for?”

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Danny chuckled. “Alpha.”

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He took the phone. “Which empire gave the world the Pilsner?”

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She frowned. “As in the beer?”

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At his nod, she hazarded a guess. “Germany?”

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“Nope. The Austrian Empire.” He waggled his brows. “What’s coming off, Bella, bar or panties?”

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The air thickened between them.

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She stood at the edge of a line that might put her back where she’d been when she was seventeen—brokenhearted over a guy that had made her feel like she was his entire world one moment, only to walk away from her and never look back.

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“I wish I was brave, like you.” If she were, she’d take whatever he offered and hoard the memories for when he was gone.

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The humor in Danny’s gaze dimmed. “You are one of the bravest people I know, Bella. We don’t have to do this.”

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Her soul cracked open a fraction. She wanted to believe him, but he was wrong about her. She’d spent her entire life trying to manage her existence so she’d never be afraid again. “I want to.”

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He shook his head, blond hair brushing his cheeks. “No, you don’t.” His steady gaze held her immobile.

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She moistened her lips, pulse thrumming.

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“A compromise then.” His eyes searched hers. “A kiss for my victory. Nothing more.”

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Her heart was a hummingbird flapping its wings in her ears. Just a kiss.

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She must have taken too long to reply because he stood. “Never mind. It was inappropriate of me to even suggest we play this game.”

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“No.” She grabbed his hand to keep him from walking away. “I-I’ll do it. A kiss, I mean.”

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Danny’s muscles tensed beneath her grip.

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“Let’s put our clothes on first.” Before she could object, he had tugged on his jeans and, to her dismay, his shirt.

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Isabella quickly dressed, then turned to face Danny, her knees unsteady. “Now what?”

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Banked heat darkened his eyes to a twilight blue. “You’re in charge. If you want to kiss me, you have to make the move.”

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Her mouth went dry. “You’re too tall. Sit on the couch.”

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Danny eased back into the cushions, knees spread. Isabella perched next to him. Bracing a shaky palm on his shoulder, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his.

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Soft. Masculine. When he didn’t move, she let her tongue slip out to trace the seam of his lips.

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He let out a soft grunt and opened for her.

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Emboldened, she explored his mouth, tasting beer and a trace of mint he must have popped into his mouth after the pizza.

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His fingers slid beneath her shirt to wrap around her ribs. He joined the kiss, using his tongue and lips to steal her soul and send shivers through her body. Danny kissed like it was his favorite thing to do in life, and he’d studied the art extensively. She’d hoped youth and inexperience had colored her memories, but no one had come close to making her this needy with just a kiss.

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Her grip on his shoulder tightened. Her other hand moved to cup his jaw. She slung one leg over his lap and straddled him.

His hips lifted, pressing his hard length between her legs. Liquid heat flooded her sex.

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She moaned.

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The sound seemed to snap Danny’s restraint. Strong arms banded her. Her world tilted as his broad chest pressed her into the cushions. His lips feathered across her jaw, down her neck, nipping, then sucking away the sting.

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His body lifted enough to palm her breasts. He squeezed.

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A rush of need filled her, along with a heady sense of feminine power that she’d made him break his promise to give her a kiss and nothing more. She lifted her hips, rubbing her center against the bulge in his jeans, uncaring that she was violating her own boundaries.

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Danny tore his mouth from hers. “Bella.” His voice was a guttural rasp in her ear. “If we don’t stop now, I’m going to fuck you, right here on this couch.”

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The vulgar language should have offended her, but it only made her wetter. Her nipples tightened even more beneath his palms. She wanted him to make her forget everything but the rush of pleasure she knew only he could give her.

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His head lifted. The guilt tangled with regret in his eyes threw cold water on her libido.

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Her hands gripped his shoulders and shoved.

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She didn’t want to be his regret. Not again.

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He scrambled to his feet, his fingers tunneling through his hair. “I’m sorry.”

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Isabella’s temper flared. “If you apologize to me one more time for touching me, I swear to God, I will stab you with a kitchen knife.”

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Danny’s eyes widened.

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She brushed past him before she made good on her threat. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

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“Bella,” he called her name as she neared the top of the stairs.

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Feet poised on the landing, she peered over her shoulder at him.

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Arms crossed, expression unreadable, it was as if he hadn’t just had his hands and mouth all over her. “Tomorrow morning, we start self-defense. Be ready.”

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A simple nod. Easier than confessing the truth—she didn’t just want to learn how to protect herself from danger.

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She wanted to learn how to protect herself from wanting him.