"Didn't you want to work this morning? Didn't you get enough sleep?" Byron's hand pressed against her waist, stilling her restless movements. "We'll make up for it."

Maeve blushed. "I'm not sleepy anymore!"

"Yes, you are."

She choked back a protest, his seriousness silencing her struggle. "What about your job?"

"Accompanying my girlfriend is more important," he said casually, pushing open the lounge door.

How can I be mad at him? she thought, stunned. The soft light was perfect for a nap. She snuggled into his arms, falling asleep almost instantly.

A crowded train station. She squatted, backpack heavy, blocked by a ridiculously expensive bus ticket. Lost.

White sneakers with black stripes appeared. She looked up, her heart leaping at the familiar face. The noise faded; only her pounding heart remained.

"You… why are you here?"

"Get up. How long are you going to squat?" He looked down, handing her money and tickets. "Take this and go home."

She stared, a lump forming in her throat. "I'll pay you back…"

"No need," he said, his tone cold and abrupt. "Study hard, and don't look for me again."

"Then I won't leave! I'll wait till I'm eighteen to marry you! How's that?" She shoved the money back. "What are your hobbies? I can… satisfy them!"

He flushed, startled. "Stop saying such things! Go!"

"No! Unless you promise not to date until I graduate!"

"Why would I do that?"

"You accepted my engagement gift!"

"What engagement gift?"

She counted on her fingers. "My breakfast money, and that whole bag of bear biscuits! That's all I have!"

He was speechless.

"If you don't promise, I'll come back," she threatened.

"How many times do I have to say I'm not interested in someone like you?"

Her lips trembled, eyes brimming with tears. "I'm not a little girl!"

"Just go! You're annoying!" His patience snapped.

She cast longing glances back three times as she boarded the train, but he was gone. Tears streamed down her face. She dabbed at them, noticing a note tucked inside the money.

[Kid, if you really want to win me over, come with a Kleymond University acceptance letter. Don't bother with this nonsense.]

She gasped, rereading it slowly. It was real! She clutched the note, smiling through her tears. Wait for me.

His fingers traced her shoulder strap, movements slow and deliberate. A sharp jolt snapped her awake.

Byron's dark eyes met hers, his chest and abdomen filling her vision. She sobered instantly, her cheeks flaming. "Byron, what are you doing?"

He promised to make it up to me… is this it?

She tried to pull away, but his arm encircled her. He didn't speak, his body radiating tense energy. Then, coldly: "You called Clem's name twice in your sleep."

Her scalp tingled. She vaguely remembered… "Are you Clem?"

He'd heard her.

"You called another man's name in my bed. Good for you." His eyes blazed.

He pulled her close, using a pillow to support her. The intensity of it stole her breath.

"Open your eyes," he commanded, pinching her chin. "Look at me. And if you miss a thing, I'll make sure you don't."

He leaned closer, his gaze unwavering, predatory.

Tears welled in her eyes. "Byron… you… bastard…"

He captured her earlobe, his voice low and dangerous. "You called his name twice. If you're so capable, we should do this ten more times, right?"

She scratched his shoulder in furious retaliation.

He hissed, his anger flaring. He pinned her down. "I'm just too good to you."

The sounds filled the room.

The setting sun cast orange light across the rumpled bed. Maeve lay still, eyelashes fluttering. Exhausted. Spent.

Waking again, she found herself held tightly. Another round.

"Tell me," his voice was low and strained, beside her ear. "What did you do with Clem in your dream? You keep calling his name. You can't forget him." Again.