He didn’t seem to know where to look first. He took her in with tiny darts of his eyes; an eternity passed before his mouth descended onto her breasts, pulling her nipple between his teeth with the fabric of her bra as a barrier. She shifted to undo the clasp, pulling it away from her body to give him better access.

  He licked her nipple, then bit it gently and the sensation shot straight between her legs. She trembled with need as he savored her breasts with his tongue. Propped on one elbow, his other hand caressed the underside of her thigh, then pulled it around him as he leaned his weight into her, his erection pressing at her core.

  She was aflame, the well of arousal running deep until she couldn’t take it anymore. Ripping at the waistband of his boxers, she pulled them down along with his sweats, wanting him inside her so much she was unwilling to wait through any more foreplay. She was so wet, responding to his slow, methodical tongue which pulled pleasure from the deep recesses of her body.

  “Condom. Now,” she ordered. Eyes unfocused, he shifted to the nightstand and pulled out an unopened box. She tried to be patient as he ripped open a packet, but couldn’t keep her hands off him. Her fingers roamed his chest, his back, his dick, before he swatted her hand away so he could sheath himself.

  She swallowed as the cold air hit her wet nipples—wanting to pull him back down on top of her, inside of her and keep him there. Both her legs wrapped around him, she arched her back to get closer. All too slowly, he guided himself home. As he sunk in, a flutter built within her chest and needed to escape. She let out a sound she never had before as he seated himself all the way inside her. It was more battle cry than groan and vibrated in her throat as it came out.

  Thankfully, Milo muted her with a kiss, his hands on her ass cheeks, spreading them apart as he drove into her. Though her eyes were open, she couldn’t see anything. She could only feel the way he slid in and out, feel his fevered skin beneath her hands everywhere she touched. Hear their labored breaths mingling as they both struggled for air. The gentle roars escaping from him spurred her on. She clawed down his back, begging for more with her body, unable to speak coherently.

  She reached up to grab the headboard and isolate the movement of her lower half, pushing up to meet him thrust for thrust, the trembling in her legs making its way up her body. Her hair even trembled.

  The orgasm built from inside, nurtured by Milo’s deep thrusts, which impaled her in the best possible way. He demanded more from her. The unassuming boy she’d stumbled upon, who’d focused on her exclusively, required that she meet his demands. She rose to the challenge. Right before she flew apart, her vision returned and she found his gaze on her. Tears sprang to her eyes and then she was subsumed in pleasure that was felt in each strand of her hair. It pulsed outward like a supernova, infinite energy and blinding light. A star being born inside her.

  Milo’s own shouts brought her back to herself. He shook above her and collapsed, mingling their sweat and breaths. Her body thought it had run a half-marathon. She’d never put this much effort into sex, though this hadn’t been a chore—it was effortless—but took everything from her. She was stripped bare, literally and figuratively, and the look on Milo’s face showed he was similarly affected.

  She felt cracked open like an egg, like everything was seeping out of her and melting into goo right there on the bed. Though it was a long time before she could move, she knew she had to leave as soon as possible.

  Milo saw things no one had seen before. His knowing gaze sent shivers through her spine, and she couldn’t escape. Solitary scholar was right. He’d been studying her all night. Half of her wondered what he’d found, but the other half did not want to find out.

  Renee walked through the campus in a fog, looking over her shoulder every other minute, sure she’d seen a glimpse of a tall form from the corner of her eye. But he was never there.

  It was stupid. She was the one who had left. Crawled out of the warm, comfortable bed, afraid to admit how too much comfort was uncomfortable. In that moment, she couldn’t handle whatever had just happened and thought it better to leave a one-night stand before she was asked to leave.

  But would Milo have asked her to leave? She knew the answer in the marrow of her bones, but ignored it.

  The cold seeped into her skin. She drew her coat closer and pulled out her hat, but it didn’t help.

  Khalil had always hated her hat, specifically he hated hat-head and wasn’t that stupid? She used to walk around letting her head get cold because of someone else’s preferences. But Khalil had also never looked so deeply within her that she felt exposed and vulnerable. She never would have thought she’d want that, until Milo.

  The shiver that came over her was immune to wool and down lining. It was from the memory of his hands over her, gentle and exploring, testing her, requiring things she wasn’t ready to give.

  She ducked into the Communications building and took the elevator down to the basement. Right before she stepped into the campus radio station, her phone rang. She tensed—hope surging from some hidden place inside her. Had he found her number somehow? But no, it was her dad. Or rather his assistant, since he rarely had time to call.

  “Hi, Gloria.”

  “Renee, how is everything?” Gloria’s voice was warm but clipped. Dad kept her really busy, but she could always get anything Renee needed. Too bad she couldn’t get her a new brain.

  “Good, everything’s good. What’s up?”

  “Haven’t heard back from you about your parents’ annual white party.”

  Renee sighed. Senator Brookes’s charity event got a lot of press in the social pages and it always looked best if the whole family was in attendance. Renee paused, leaning against the wall, her head in her hand.

  “I don’t know if I can make it this year,” she said, not knowing exactly why she was hesitant to go. The glamour and buzz of her parents’ parties had always appealed to her—or had they?

  She was struck by the thought that she’d rather hang out with Milo in his third-floor sanctuary than be at any party ever. But she pushed the idea from her mind. That wasn’t her life—she was out in the world and not hidden away like a hermit.

  Gloria exacted from her a strong promise to try, and Renee said she would.

  “Glo,” she said as the woman began to get off the call.

  “Yes?”

  “How are they?” Her voice caught in her throat. She hadn’t spoken to either of her parents in weeks, only to their proxies—either Gloria or her mom’s personal assistant, Dean.

  “They’re good.”

  “Of course they are.” Renee hung up, sighing. The Senator and his wife were always good, no matter what.

  Her radio show’s producer, a senior who she wasn’t sure ever left the station, greeted her when she entered. Renee sat at the board, staring at all the blinking lights, willing her stray thoughts into place. Over the course of the next hour, she played nothing but classic soul: Otis Redding, Sam Cooke, Wilson Pickett, Carla Thomas, Mary Wells.

  She kept her banter light, even though her heart was heavy. When it came time to take listener requests, she perked up. Milo had known about her show. He didn’t say he listened, but he might—and maybe he’d even call in? What would she do if she heard his voice live on the air?

  But as the show came to a close with no calls from him, her spirits dimmed. She’d left after all. What did she expect?

  She packed her bag as the outro ran, then slipped out of the studio passing the next host on the way in. He was a guy that had been in their circle of friends—he and Renee used to be cool. But he got Khalil in the breakup and now they didn’t even speak.

  Outside, she stopped to zip up her bag. Awareness tingled up her spine and she turned around slowly to look up, and up. She couldn’t release the smile that wanted to form—anguish caught her in a stranglehold.

  Milo stood next to the door to the stairwell. He looked just as he had in his room, hands stuffed in his pockets, shoulders hunched a little, his beautiful mouth twisted into a wry grin. But his eyes were sad.

  Her body longed to launch herself at him, but she held back. His melancholy gaze was still sharp. He saw more than she wanted, and she longed to cover herself, to hide in the crowd the way she always did, avoiding the scrutiny.

  “Hey,” she said, stuffing her hands in her pockets, mimicking his stance. His face fell as he withdrew his hands. He thought she was mocking him.

  “Hey.”

  Silence hung thickly between them. He was staring at a space behind her on the wall, a frown creasing his forehead. He pulled something from his pocket and held it out to her. “I guess you left this.” He held out a tiny gold hoop earring.

  She touched her earlobe. She could have sworn she put both of those earrings on this morning. And were those even the ones she’d worn to the party? But her left ear was bare.

  When she reached out for it, Milo dropped the earring into her hand, careful not to touch her.

  “Thanks.” Their gazes locked, but she didn’t know what else to say.

  He shrugged. “No problem.”

  “Renee!” a voice called from behind her. She turned to find the station manager standing in the hallway. “I need to talk to you about next month’s schedule.”

  “Okay, one sec,” she said then turned back to Milo. But he was already half-way down the hall, making fast time with those impossibly long legs. Her heart sank, and she forced the tears back from her eyes.

  Delilah’s purple painted fingertips scratch at the fabric of her skirt. She smooths the material before brushing one of her long dreadlocks from her shoulder. When she looks up again, her supervisor, Neenah’s, expression has not changed.

  “You were doing so well,” Neenah says, with a sigh. Delilah nods, she had been particularly pleased with herself.

  “You’d done your research and executed a plan that was simple but effective.”

  Delilah smiles. “Humans are naturally curious, and often the ones who follow all the rules are the same ones who justify breaking them.”

  “Yes, yes, breaking the boy’s lock and predicting that the girl would be compelled to cross the police tape was all fine. Unusual, but perfectly within regulations.” Neenah’s green eyes narrow. She’s gotten the hang of taking on human form now and almost never slips into her elemental form unless she plans to. She’s even mastered the art of controlling her facial expressions to convey specific meanings, like intimidation.

  Neenah leans across her desk and motions to the tablet sitting there with the latest progress report on Delilah’s mission. “But how long has it been since they last saw each other?”

  “Well, technically Renee saw Milo yesterday coming out of the library. You see, I arranged a little accident to befall his laptop so he would be forced to—”

  “Not. What. I. Meant.”

  Neenah’s command of anger is also exemplary. Delilah blinks rapidly, almost without thinking. These motions have become second nature given all the time she’s spent on Earth lately.

  “It’s been a week since I rematerialized her earring in his room,” she offers.

  “Your window of opportunity is narrowing.” Neenah shakes her head, a little too jerkily to be considered natural. “Close this case in the next three days or you will be assigned a Field Coordinator.”

  Delilah’s shudder is one hundred percent natural. “Yes, ma’am. I—I won’t let you down.”

  Neenah nods and de-manifests, dissipating into column of smoke.

  Delilah pulls the tablet toward her, and engages the communication mode. “Requisitions Department? Yes, I’m going to need a couple of invitations.”

  Renee debated going to her parents’ white party up until the moment she got in her car and started the drive home. It wasn’t like she was doing anything else, but the thought of being around so many people, of smiling and glad-handing and turning on the Renee Brookes the world expected to see was exhausting.

  For the entire forty-five-minute drive, she considered turning around and heading back to her room on campus and spending the night with the Bennet sisters and Mr. Darcy. But she stayed the course, and all too soon she was pulling into her family’s gated driveway.

  Her mother’s assistant, Dean, greeted her at the door. “You’re late, and the missus is in a state.”

  “When is she not?” Renee responded with an eye roll.

  Dean shrugged just as his cell phone rang. He shook his head and answered his Bluetooth all while shooing her up the stairs.

  The decorators were putting the finishing touches on the house, fluffing flower arrangements, and hiding the cables for the festive but moody lighting they’d added. Mouthwatering scents wafted up from the kitchen, where the caterers were making their magic.

  Renee’s bedroom hadn’t changed since she went away to college. The walls were plastered with photos of her and her friends—the people who constantly surrounded her all through school, but who she barely even talked to anymore. The images staring down at her only served to underscore the gnawing ache in her middle.

  The grandfather clock struck. Guests would be arriving soon and Renee needed to get ready.

  She’d picked out the dress months ago, when the idea of the party was still exciting and didn’t fill her with dread. The vintage, off the shoulder gown was classy but still sexy, with pearl buttons and ivory lace covering the skirt. After pinning up her hair, she took a selfie, but wasn’t sure what to do with it.

  She wanted to send the photo to Milo. Would he like the dress? If she posted it online, would he see? Did he lurk on her Instagram account? She stared at her phone until the screen went off.

  A knock at the door jerked her back to the present. She called out and Dean poked his head in and whistled. She smiled, giving him a little twirl.

  “Honey, you look fierce tonight. Jaws will definitely drop.” He squinted and tilted his head. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

  Before she could answer, his cell phone rang again. Renee shook her head. “Nothing.” The shrill ring tone set her teeth on edge and this time it was her doing the shooing.

  “I’m fine, promise,” she said. He gave her a long look before closing the door.

  She turned to her vanity mirror. If she was going to get through this, she needed to put her game face on. She hefted her makeup kit onto the table and proceeded to paint on the perfect girl.

  Fully armored and shielded with a thanks to whatever god had created Sephora, Renee went downstairs to face the firing squad. She was a bit more than fashionably late and was immediately set upon by family friends, important donors, respected constituents, and other guests, all cooing and telling her how happy they were to see her. She smiled and posed for pictures with people she didn’t know. The responsibility of being a Brookes was so deeply ingrained, she did much of it on autopilot.

  In fact, her whole life felt like it had been on autopilot since leaving Milo’s room a week ago.

  Her parents expertly flitted through the crowd. Through the mass of partygoers, she got brief glimpses of her father’s distinguished, bald head and her mother’s elegant coif, but didn’t actually see them up close until the speech-slash-photo-op where the Senator thanked everyone for attending and spoke briefly about whatever charity this year’s party supported. Refugees from a war-torn country or school lunches for deserving, but impoverished young children, or something. Renee’s mind had wandered, though she made sure her smile was perfectly welded into place.

  After the applause died down and the music started up again, her mother cornered her. She wasted no time with a greeting, gave no acknowledgement that this was the first time Mary Brookes had seen her daughter in months. She just went straight in to the topic on her mind.

  “Honey, where’s your date?”

  Renee frowned. “Date?”

  “That boy you were dating? Carl? Chris?”

  “Khalil, mother.” Saying his name didn’t even bring the bile it used to. “And we’re not dating anymore.”

  “Hmm.” Her mother flashed a smile at a passing attendee and drew Renee a little closer. “I could have sworn he was on the guest list.”

  “I promise I didn’t put him there.” And neither Dean nor Gloria would have, Renee was sure of it.

  Her mother waved her wrist around as if it made little difference, then dashed off when someone more important called her name. A sick feeling took hold in Renee’s gut.

  She wasn’t even surprised when she turned and saw Khalil coming toward her, walking with his usual swagger. Anger welled up inside.

  “Renee,” he said, greeting her like they were still friends, like they were still anything. She stalked away to the kitchen where the staff were preparing the dessert trays.

  Khalil’s presence behind her was wrong. She whirled to face him, taking in his handsome, bland features, wondering what had ever drawn her in. “What are you doing here?”

  He grinned. “I got an invitation. Great party.”

  “Why did you even want to come?”

  “The Brookes’ annual white party? Who wouldn’t want to come? Besides,” he said, moving closer to stroke her cheek with an ice-cold finger. “I think we should clear up our little misunderstanding.”

  She jerked away but found herself backed against the counter. “What misunderstanding?” Her skin was literally crawling, trying to get away from him.

  “The one where you thought that girl meant something to me. She didn’t. It was just a fuck.”

  “And I was just your girlfriend. You don’t get to fuck other girls when you have a girlfriend.”

  “Well, to be fair, I don’t think we ever specified that.”

  Renee’s eyes widened. “You can’t be serious.”