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important—”
    “Oh my God!” I cover my ears and laugh. I wait until his lips have stopped moving before I drop my arms.
    “Now, behave,” he adds, glaring at us before leaving to go down the hall.
    Even though both Henry and Jeremy have given us the talk , they act like we’re a couple of uncontrollable animals. It’s humiliating.
    The minute Henry’s gone, Harlin pulls me to him so he can whisper in my ear. “I didn’t think they’d ever leave.”
    I smile. “Me either.”
    Harlin eases across the bed, resting his face close to mine before he kisses me. His soft, full lips fit to mine perfectly, and he pauses before kissing me again.
    I love him.
    His hand slips past my ear and into my hair, drawing me closer. He turns on his back, rolling me on top of him and we kiss. I don’t ever want to not be with him, because when I am, I feel normal. I sit up and look down at him, my hands resting on his chest.
    “So beautiful,” he murmurs, reaching to unbutton the silver tabs of my shirt. “You’re so damn beautiful.” His eyes are searching me as he slides the fabric off my shoulder and sits up to kiss the skin there.
    Heat is pulsating through me. I don’t want him to stop. I don’t want—
    “Baby?” he says, touching my shoulder gingerly. “What happened?”
    “What?” I ask, my voice raspy. “What’s wrong?” My head is spinning from desire and for a second, I’m still swaying. I look sideways over to where his finger is gently rubbing. It’s the same spot that hurt earlier in the church.
    “Looks like a burn,” he murmurs, adjusting his position so that he can sit up and examine it better.
    When Harlin moves his hand, I can finally see the patch of skin—red, slightly raised. It’s about the size of a quarter, but it looks like it should really hurt. Only it doesn’t. At least, right now it doesn’t.
    Harlin touches my chin and turns me to him. “Did something happen?” His hazel eyes are wide with protectiveness. I shake my head and press my lips together to assure him.
    “I must have hit it on something,” I say, somehow knowing it’s not true. “Maybe at Plato’s.”
    Harlin’s face softens as he balances me on his thighs, facing him. “You gotta be more careful,” he whispers, leaning forward to kiss the spot. “You know it makes me a murderous psycho to think of you getting hurt.”
    I laugh. He’s exaggerating. The closest he’s ever come to murderous psycho was the time he told Mercy’s old landlord to drop dead for locking us out. But other than that, he’s even-tempered. Harlin is a gentle soul. Always has been.
    His mouth touches my neck, and I put my hands in his hair, blinking slowly. But as soon as I close my eyes, feeling Harlin’s hand sliding to my waist, I see it. It’s all I can see: 5918 W. Broadway.
    I straighten, trying to heave in a breath, but it feels caught. I wheeze and Harlin takes me by the upper arms and moves me over on the bed.
    “Charlotte,” he says loudly, putting a hand on my cheek. “Are you having an attack?”
    Not now! Not now! But I shake my head yes, making high-pitched noises as I touch at my chest, trying to stay calm. I knew this would happen. I waited too long.
    “I’ll be right back,” he says, scrambling off the bed. “Stay here.” He moves quickly toward the bathroom down the hall. Harlin makes me keep an inhaler in his medicine cabinet. I have one at Sarah’s, too. But I can feel that my cover story is beginning to wear thin. Who has asthma like this?
    My body is convulsing, lurching forward with each gasp. I should be there by now. I’m late. When I wait too long, the Need gets more powerful. More . . . painful.
    The minute I hear Harlin’s bare feet on the wood in the hallway, I clutch my shirt closed and climb off his bed, slipping my feet into my shoes. My head is beating a steady pace with my heart and I wish I could just stay here, in Harlin’s room.
    But I know I can’t. This won’t stop until I do