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Cal nudged my nose with his. “I do. Kiss me, Doc.”

Desire roared to life inside of me, a latent dragon that had been asleep and curled tightly around my insecurities. But now it was awake and breathing fire through my limbs and up to my face, heating me from the inside and sending want straight between my legs. I darted a look from his lips, so close they blurred, and then back to his striking eyes that watched me with a warm intensity I echoed in my core. I let my eyes flutter closed, and with the barest tilt of my chin, I brushed my lips against his.

That was all the invitation Cal needed. He pressed his lips to mine, soft at first and then teasing as he slid like silk on satin over my lips. I hadn’t kissed anyone in a long time, but it didn’t matter. Kissing Cal was like dancing. It didn’t matter how long it had been—it was effortless. It was in my DNA. I sighed, my body melting under his, and he let out a puff of sound, low and eager, and then he deepened the kiss. My hips arched up, pressing into him, and he slanted a kiss over my lips, coaxing them open and flicking his tongue in a delicious slide across the roof of my mouth and then to my upper lip before plunging in deeper.

I moaned into his mouth, clutching the front of his shirt and then moving my hands to wrap around his solid torsoso he could get closer, press even firmer and relieve some of the pressure that was building inside of me. Cal tilted his head, capturing me in a feverish kiss that felt like it had never had a beginning and,please God,might never end.

He leaned his weight onto his left forearm, freeing his right hand to lift and brush strands of hair away from my face and then tickle down to my neck. A ripple of pleasure swept down my arms, and I wiggled under him, hot and needy. He had only touched my neck and I was about to rip off all my clothing.

Wait. The thought burst through my brain like a cartoon fist through a drumhead.Ruth, what the hell are you doing? This is your fake boyfriend, he’s clearly drunk, and you’re falling at his feet and begging for physical affection like a pathetic loser. Again. Do not do this again.I gasped, stiffening and angling my head away.

Cal paused, his body tensing, and then he lifted away from me. “Ruth?”

“I have to go,” I said thinly. Suddenly, this all felt surreal. There was no way this guy was into me—there was always a catch. Always something lurking beneath their kind words and heated looks. I pushed at him. “Cal, please.”

He sat up immediately, removing his body from mine and leaning his weight on one hand to look down at me with assessing eyes. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“No.” I sat up too, running a hand down the front of my jumper and then resting it at the base of my throat. I stood up and backed away a few steps. “I’m fine. I’m just—I’lljust—thanks for dinner.”

“Ruth.” Cal’s dusty brown eyebrows took on a concerned tilt, and he stood slowly. “What’s wrong? Did I do something you didn’t want? If I did, I’m sor—”

“Nope.” I held up a hand, backing away. “It’s really—it’s fine. I’m fine. You were fine. I just remembered something.” I pulled my phone from my pocket, like that was going to make any sense. He knew this was crazy and I knew this was crazy. But I couldn’t help the jitter in my bones and the echo of pain that cried out, hollow and jarring.It’s not real. It wasn’t real with Vaughn. It’s not real with Cal. You don’t do relationships. Get out before you make a fool of yourself.

“Ruth.” Cal started toward me with confused anger creasing his brow. “Where are you going?”

“I have to—” I gestured uselessly toward the door.I have to run. I have to get away from you before I make a complete and total idiot of myself.

“Okay, wait.” Cal dug into the pocket of his jeans before pulling out the keycard. He held it up like he was showing me it was harmless and not a weapon. Then he set it on the bedside table. “Stay here. I’ll go.”

“No, I really couldn’t.” I backed away until my butt hit the entry door, but Cal was there before I could reach for the handle.

He took my arms in his hands, and with a slow but inexorably steady pull, he rotated me away from the door. Releasing me and standing between me and the door, he held up a hand inan unthreatening gesture. “Stay here. I’m going to get my own room. Okay?”

My heart thundered, painful and constricting so tight, it was like rubber bands had been twined around it. “It’s really okay, Cal. This is your room.”

“I got it for you,” he reminded me. His eyes danced over my face, and I wondered what he saw. Did I look as crazed as I felt? “Ruth, you’re safe with me. Always. I promised you that when I brought you home from the bar, and I mean it now. Alright?”

I swallowed, but it wouldn’t go down. I was choking on my own stupid, inane emotions. Why was I even reacting this way? He’d kissed me, and somehow, that had led to me falling apart. What the hell? “I know,” I managed to force out.

His hand pressed down on the door handle, and with a little tug, he had it open. Worry and regret swirled in his gaze. “You have my number. I’ll come if you need me.”

I clasped my hands together tight. “Okay.”

“I didn’t mean to pressure you, Shortstop,” he added gently.

If I could have turned into a sea lion and flung myself into the ocean to hopefully drown myself, I would have done it. I couldn’t possibly have made this more awkward. I rubbed my forehead. “You didn’t. I’m just… me.”

One corner of his mouth lifted softly. “And you’re perfect the way you are. I mean that. I’ll meet you downstairs at nine for breakfast?”

“Sure.” I was starting to feel like there was no oxygen in the room. Like we were in a bizarre vacuum that had sucked all thelife and air and normalcy out of the room. But then Cal backed out, closing the door behind him, and I collapsed against the wall.

I thought having him leave would make it easier to breathe, but it didn’t. I gasped and struggled for air, sliding slowly to the floor with my hand on my chest.

I’m having a panic attack,I realized dimly.Why am I having a panic attack?

My knee throbbed, and as I struggled to draw in a complete breath, I stared at it with the faintest realization that when I’d fallen at the pier, I’d gotten a large splinter of wood under the skin. A little trickle of blood had seeped out from the wound, dry now and crusted over.

I hated splinters—nasty, piercing, painful things. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the pain in my knee instead of the pain from my emotional splinter that was giving me a panic attack out of nowhere. Because that’s really what Vaughn was now, wasn’t he? A splinter that had stabbed through my heart and flared up with pain when I’d tried to kiss a perfectly handsome, miraculously interested man.