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“Um...” I broke eye contact and tucked my hair behind my ears, a nervous tell I was sure they picked up on. “He might have cornered me in a back hall, and—” God, how did I even explain what happened between us?

“And what?” Ryan said.

I grimaced, knowing there was no way to get around this. “Let’s just say that one look at him turned me back into teenage Lauren.”

Ryan choked.

Taylor let out a whoop.

Walter barked, and maybe it was because I had regrets about earlier, but it sounded judgy.

“Details. Now,” Taylor demanded.

“There’s not much to tell,” I said. “I came out of the bathroom to find him waiting for me in the hall. He had his brother Alec standing guard to keep anyone from bothering us, and I ended up pinned to a wall.”

“Okay,” Taylor said. “That’s kind of fucking hot, though.” She turned to look at Ryan for confirmation.

Ryan stared at her like she’d grown a second head. “Did you not just hear that whole story about how he betrayed her? We hate him.”

“Oh, obviously we hate him,” Taylor said with an eye roll. “But it doesn’t make it any less hot. If anything...” Her gaze slipped to me, and she had the audacity to start fanning herself.

I grabbed a nearby pillow and chucked it at her head. Goddamn it. I needed her to help Ryan talk me down from my momentary stupidity, not enable it.

Taylor ducked the pillow, unperturbed. Walter let out an excited yip and went barreling after it.

“How’d you react?” Ryan asked.

“I froze,” I said.

Taylor waggled her brows. “Froze, or went boneless like the submissive little slut you are?”

Walter returned carrying the pillow. I politely thanked him and then lobbed it at Taylor again. My aim was better this time, and she nearly fell off the couch trying to avoid it.

“I froze ,” I repeated. “He grabbed me and was just...there, and I was so caught off guard that I—” I could tell from my roommates’ unimpressed expressions that they weren’t buying a single fucking word. Time to speak my truth. “It wasn’t my fault; I was the victim of a possession.”

Taylor grinned. “By a randy priest?”

“Sexually frustrated nun.”

She nodded along like she was fully onboard with my bullshit.

Ryan, however...

“Fine,” I huffed. “I went boneless like the submissive slut I am, but in my defense, I haven’t seen Junior in a decade, and he’s grown into his man body. Those fucking green eyes of his stared straight into my horny little soul. I couldn’t help it.”

Taylor fell against the couch cushions, pumping her fists into the air while chanting, “Hate sex, hate sex, hate sex.”

Walter returned with the pillow again, and I lobbed it at her a final time. “Stop that. I’m not sleeping with the man.”

Ryan eyed me. “Did he say anything to you, or was it just the manhandling?”

I sobered, recalling the exchange. “There was an attempted flirtation.” I couldn’t bring myself to confess that Junior’s charm had almost worked on me, instead giving them a rundown of our mini altercation and my quick escape to Nonna Bianchi and her friends.

Ryan’s grin was rueful. “The wooden spoon brigade to the rescue.”

“Those old biddies don’t mess around,” I agreed. “Both brothers left right after, so nothing else happened, thankfully. With any luck, another decade will pass before I run into Junior again.”

Taylor sat back up. “But don’t you feel like there’s unfinished business between you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Clearly, the man needs to apologize,” she said.

I shrugged. “I don’t need an apology from him. Not anymore. I’ve moved on.”

Taylor’s perfectly arched brows climbed up her forehead. “What if he apologized...with his body?” She started pumping her arms like she was about to break into chant again.

This time it was Ryan’s turn to throw a pillow. Since they were seated right next to her, it bounced off the side of her head and went spinning toward the kitchen, much to Walter’s delight.

“No hate sex,” I said. “Although...” I closed my eyes, and it was like I was back in the hallway with Junior pressed close, his hand gripping my hip, his breath warm against the skin of my neck.

I swore I could still smell a lingering hint of his cologne.

Still felt his thumb drawing circles on my side.

If we’d been anywhere else besides a church . . .

A not-so -subtle cough brought me back to myself, and I blinked my eyes open to find my friends staring at me like they knew exactly where my thoughts had gone.

Taylor grinned. “Hate sex, ha—”

I reached past Ryan and clamped a hand over her mouth. We’d run out of pillows. “That’s a bad idea for nine million reasons.”

Taylor licked my palm.

I wiped it off on her pajama pants.

“Hey!” she whined.

I sat back, out of her reach and whatever retaliation she was plotting.

“Junior hurt me once, badly. And while I might have been temporarily lobotomized by lust, I will never, ever give that man a chance to do it again. I’m sure the only reason I was so caught up by him was because it’s been too long since I’ve fooled around with someone. ”

Ryan set their drink aside and stood. “Okay. We’re going to the club tonight to fix that.”

Taylor let out an excited shriek. “Yes!” She looked to me. “Right? Yes?”

“Yes,” I agreed, pushing up from the couch. “I’ll take Walter out now if someone else takes him right before we leave.”

“I can,” Ryan said.

In less than a minute, I had Walter in his walking harness and out the door.

The sun was starting its slow descent toward the horizon, painting the brick and stone buildings around me in gold.

It had been hot earlier, but a slight breeze had picked up since I’d gotten home, blowing some of the heat away, and I tried to soak it all in while I could, knowing that winter would eventually come back around to ruin the vibes.

Motion across the street caught my eye. I looked up just in time to see a man kick his leg over the back of an expensive-looking motorcycle.

He dropped into the seat, helmet already in place, leather jacket more suited to a DC villain than a biker.

With a flick of his hand, the engine rumbled to life, low and throaty.

This wasn’t the first time I’d caught sight of him, and I figured he must live nearby.

Unfortunately, I’d never seen him without his helmet on.

Or maybe fortunately, for me. Something about a man on a bike scrambled my brain to the point that if I ever tried to speak to him, I’d probably blurt something stupid like, “Hi. Hot. Fuck?”

He must have clocked me staring, because he gave a jerk of his head like he was saying What’s up .

I smiled, waved, and quickly looked away, my mouth dry, my nether regions.

..not. What was it about a guy kitted out in motorcycle gear that was such a turn-on ?

Was it the badass stereotype? The fact that so many bikers had been depicted as rebels without a cause in film and TV?

Or was it the anonymity of the helmet? Anyone could be underneath that thing, and I’d always had a bit of a mask kink.

Whatever it was, one thing was for certain: It had definitely been too long since I’d gotten laid.

Here’s hoping that all changed tonight.