“Closer,” he said. “Yeah.” His hips ground down on her. He went in for a kiss. She turned her head away and his warm mouth slid along her cheek.

Now what? Should she yell for help, hoping she could be heard above the loud music? If she did that, would the stupid drama ruin the evening for Sierra and Will? He was just a big, dumb, drunk guy, after all. No need to make a federal case out of it.

He lifted himself up, but before she could roll out from under him, he shifted so he was on top of her once again.

“Let me go, damn it,” she said through gritted teeth. Then she drew breath to yell, even though she knew she’d be humiliating herself by overreacting. She didn’t even know what to yell. No? Help? Maybe just a scream—

“Dude, I meant what I said. Don’t force me to make a scene and ruin our friends’ wedding.”

“C’mon, baby. We’ll make a scene together. You’re gonna love it.” He pinned her wrists and his mouth ground down on hers before she could turn her head again, stealing her breath, closing off her airway. Now she couldn’t scream. She couldn’t breathe. She felt trapped by inertia and terror and foolishness and indecision. She managed to wrench her mouth away from his for a split second.

“Stop,” she said, and then he kissed her again, a brutal invasion of teeth and tongue. She bit his tongue. It was like a tough, undigestible cut of meat.

“Shit,” he said, “you’re a wild one.” He didn’t kiss her again but covered her mouth with his hand. Panic shot through her. She was trapped. The loud music and crashing waves drowned out her muffled voice. His free hand groped at her swimsuit.

This could not be happening, she thought. And yet it was, engulfing and smothering her with a sense of powerlessness. A moment later, she couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think—

The hard weight of him lifted suddenly, as if plucked by a steam shovel.

Dizzy with panic, Caroline gulped in air.

He let out a yell. “What the fuck—”

“She said stop.” Will’s voice cut through the night.

“Fuck off, Jensen, we’re just having a little fun.” Matt scrambled backward, then lunged. Their silhouettes clashed like two stags in rut.

Caroline gasped, her entire body buzzing with shock. She crab-walked to the edge of the blanket and jumped up, wrapping herself in a towel. Her bikini top was gone.

Will made a Krav Maga move she remembered from long ago, and she heard a noise like a bag of liquid hitting concrete.

“Fuck,” said Matt. “Goddamn, Jensen, I think you broke my fucking nose.”

Will pivoted and walked away. “Let’s go.” He grabbed Caroline by the arm and strode toward the parking lot.

Clutching the towel, she nearly stumbled, trying to keep up. She was too mortified to say anything except “Hey, I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, I could see that. What the hell were you doing?” Will demanded. “Jesus, look at you.”

She bristled, holding the towel closer. “What, like that was my fault?”

He yanked open the door to his car—his grandfather’s Grand Marquis. “Get in.”

Her top was missing. She was barefoot, too. She got into the car.

He wheeled out of the parking lot. At the same time, he groped behind the seat and found a jacket. “Put that on if you’re cold.”

She was shivering uncontrollably.

Then she realized it wasn’t from the cold. “D-did you really break that guy’s nose?”

“He’ll be okay. But shit, Caroline, he’s on my goddamn team.” He careened into the driveway of her parents’ house, the crushed shells crackling under the tires.

“Well, he sucks,” she said. “I didn’t ask for him to—I didn’t want—”

“Then what the hell were you thinking, parading around in your bikini, doing shots?”

“Don’t you dare blame my clothes for that jerk’s behavior.”

“He was looking at you like a lamb chop all night.”

“How do you know how he was looking at me?” she demanded.

He threw the car into park and leaned over, pinning her against the seat, his face inches from hers, his whiskey-sweet breath on her face. “That’s what guys like him do.”

She gasped in horror and shoved at his chest as hard as she could. “Get the hell away from me!”

He drew back immediately, also looking horrified. “Okay, yeah. I know. I’m sorry. I just . . . Jesus, Caroline. I didn’t mean to—”

She couldn’t even hear him, because she started wheezing in a panic that suddenly roared through her like a forest fire. The latent terror of being pinned down and groped made it impossible to breathe. Her heart hammered against her chest, loud and frightening.

“Hey, hey . . .” Gentle hands cupped her shoulders. “Caroline, hey, listen, it’s over. It’s okay. I’m sorry for what happened.” His touch was tender, his words finally penetrating her panic. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I was scared about what might have happened if I hadn’t noticed you’d wandered off. It’s over now,” he said again. “I’m here. I’m here, okay?”

She collapsed against his chest, pressing her cheek to his heart and clinging to him. The solid comfort of his embrace felt like a seawall, keeping fear at bay. He was right. Some drunk guy had come on to her, and Will had intervened, and she didn’t need to be afraid anymore. The panic ebbed, and she stopped trembling.

“You all right now?” he asked.

“I was so scared,” she said in a small voice.

“I know, baby,” he whispered, his breath warm against her hair. “I know. It’s over now.”

With aching tenderness, he cupped her face between his hands and stared down into her eyes, placing a feather-light kiss on her forehead. And then something else caught fire, not with panic but with a mindless, long-buried, unstoppable desire. Caroline wasn’t sure who made the first move, but suddenly she was planting a terrible, irresistible, illicit kiss on his mouth.

Time stopped.

Everything stopped.

It was a deep, thirsty kiss, born of years of yearning, and it was like an out-of-body experience. The world fell away, just for a moment. A blazing moment of sweetness. The taste of him. His smell. His hands on her bare skin. Then they broke apart as if burned.

She stared at him. He stared back.

“Caroline, my God. This is—this was . . . Shit. I’ve been wanting this forever, to—”

“Don’t you dare say anything more. Don’t you fucking dare.”

He froze. “Yeah, okay. We both had too much to drink. It’s just . . . You’re right. Damn. I’m sorry, Caroline. I’m so damn sorry.”

The generalized I’m sorry left her wondering, For what? She groped blindly for the door handle and leaped out of the car, filled with an insane jumble of guilt and excitement and horrible shame.

Caroline woke the next morning with a hangover—not from the drinking, but from the lingering fallout of her kiss with Will Jensen.

Her best friend’s soon-to-be husband. How the hell had it happened? Why had it happened? What on earth was she going to do now?

Forget it, that’s what, she told herself stoutly. Pretend it never happened. And hope like hell Will does the same.