helplessness.
“Here.” A thickly muscled arm slipped beneath her shoulders and raised her to meet the edge of a drinking glass. Her lips parted gratefully and ice water filled her empty stomach, causing her to shiver. Burning hot outside, freezing cold inside.
Inhaling a spicy exotic scent that was unmistakable, she croaked, “Alec?”
“In the flesh.” He mantled her body, his hip pressed to hers as he sat on the edge of the bed.
“I-I don’t want you to see me . . . l-like this. Go away.”
Pressing a kiss to her brow, Alec followed her down to the pillow. Silken strands of his hair stroked over her hypersensitive skin. Pleasure flowed through her. Familiar pleasure. Longed-for pleasure. Contradicting her order to leave, her hand lifted to his thick hair. Her fingers slid deep into the glossy locks, her palm cupping the back of his head to keep him close.
“I feel like shit,” she muttered.
“I know. I’m sorry, angel. Women always take the Change hardest.”
“What . . . what change?”
“Hush,” he soothed, wiping her forehead with the wet washcloth. “Sleep now. I’ll take care of you.”
Her nipples throbbed as if pinched by clamps, the ache boring deep. Her hands moved to them, covering the puckered tips with her palms. A large, warm hand surrounded hers, then pulled them away. At eighteen, she hadn’t been this curvy, less than a handful. She was much fuller now, a fact he seemed to appreciate if the rhythmic kneading of his hand on her breast was any indication. She whimpered, finding relief in the pressure of his touch.
Her fingers drifted along the length of his side, feeling hot, smooth skin stretched tight over lean, hard muscles. The image of Alec bare-chested flashed behind her closed eyelids, followed by heated remembrances of the last time he’d handled her so intimately.
Sick as she was, her body still hungered for him. How the hell could she be horny at a time like this? “Alec . . . What’s happening to me?”
“You’re becoming like me.”
“Oh god.” As the burn on her arm heated painfully, she whimpered. “Shoot me now.”
“Just a few more days, angel. You’re strong. You’ll be even stronger when you get through this.”
“Few days? How long have I—?”
“Three days.”
Three days?
And he was still here.
She fought to stay awake, but she lost the battle and drifted off.
As soon as Eve exited the ice-cream shop to the back alley, she knew he was there. She closed her eyes and sighed, then straightened her shoulders and locked the door.
“What do you want, Robert?” she asked wearily, loose bits of old asphalt crunching beneath her Vans. “I’ve had a long day and I really want to go home.”
Her ex leaned against the hood of his white ’67 Mustang, arms and legs crossed. He was arguably the most popular guy at Loara High and it was obvious why. A California blond with blue eyes, he had a great body from both surfing at dawn at Huntington Beach and afternoon football practice. But his looks hadn’t been enough to tempt to her out of her virginity.
At eighteen, she was the oldest girl she knew who still hadn’t had sex. Sometimes the peer pressure was fierce, but mostly she was fine with waiting for more than a quick, painful screw in the back of some guy’s car.
“I thought you might want a ride to Jason’s party,” he said with a half-smile.
Eve shook her head. “Thanks, but I’m not up for it tonight.”
Her uniform of bright red shorts and a white polo shirt with “Henry’s Ice Cream” embroidered on the breast was irritating her. She wanted nothing more than to toss it in the hamper and watch the latest episode of 90210 in a pair of baggy sweats.
“I’ve got a cooler in the car and a dime bag,” he coaxed. “We can skip the party and drive out to the tracks.”
“Give it a rest.” She started walking. “I’m not doing it, okay? You broke up with me and told everyone I’m a bad lay. Everyone thinks I put out. We’re done.”
Leaping to his feet, Robert stepped into her path. “Come on, Evie. I know you’re scared, but I’ll make it good for you. Other people are starting to talk about how cold you are. Your rep as a hottie is slipping, baby.”
“Whatever. Like I care.”
His voice lowered and became cajoling. He gripped her upper arms, and rubbed up and down. “A couple beers and a joint, and you’ll be nice and relaxed when I pop your cherry. You