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worried the fillings would fall out.
    â€œLet’s just get you back and warm you up.”
    Actually, I had a much better thought about how to get warm, but if he’d gotten all prudish after just a bite to the neck, I could imagine what he’d say to my other, much more fun-sounding idea.
    So I kept it to myself.
    Darn it.
    Besides, I did feel…off. And cold, so very damn cold, all the way to my bones.
    And then there was that other little issue, of being able to see through things…
    Kellan had turned away from me to look for the trail, and I couldn’t help myself.
    I looked at his butt.
    Bad eyes.
    Great butt.
    I had no idea what was up with me, but it was starting to get a little annoying.
    I honestly felt as if my every nerve had been sensitized. I felt like I needed to be touched.
    Right now, right here.
    Kel looked over his shoulder and caught me staring.
    Uh-oh. I tried to look away quickly, but there was no denying it. I’d been checking him out.
    He frowned, as if trying to figure this out, as if the idea of me staring at his ass was so foreign, it couldn’t possibly be.
    â€œCome on,” he said.
    â€œRight.” I smiled as if everything was normal. As if I got hit by lightning every single day and then could see through people’s clothing, people whom I’d had no idea were hiding such an incredible body…“Coming.”
    I just wished that were really true.

Chapter 5
    Kellan’s view of things
    H ere’s the crazy thing: I’ve wanted to hold Rachel Wood in my arms for, oh, only my entire life.
    No kidding.
    Well, that’s not quite true. Half the time, I’ve wanted to strangle her.
    But the other half of the time…
    She entered kindergarten the same year as my sister. I’d sit outside during my second-grade recess and watch Rachel dance around on her tiptoes, like a little ballerina in high-top tennis shoes, and even way back then, something within me had fallen head over heels. Of course, that changed pretty quickly when she went on to torture me at every turn for the next two decades.
    In fourth grade, she told her teacher that I called her a butthead (which I had) and got me sent home from school and my mouth washed out with soap. In seventh grade, right before my state championship baseball game, she sneaked into my locker and replaced my jock with her bra. Ever get stepped on by the catcher when you’re in a home run slide without your jock? Not a good time. In ninth grade, she told Cece Brodington that I kissed like a frog. (In all fairness, that one might have been true, too.)
    In high school, she copied all my accounting and algebra work with regularity, but since she got me through the English and world history classes that were hell on Earth for me, I had no real recourse.
    During those years, she began her lifelong lust-affair with badasses, and though I fantasized about being one of them, I couldn’t have been a badass even if I’d learned to smoke without choking. I just didn’t have it in me to be a jerk. But that was okay. I met a lot of girls who liked me just fine how I was.
    Well, maybe not a lot.
    Maybe not even many, but whatever.
    We did kiss once, Rach and I, at my high school graduation. Dot made us do it so she could take a picture. Rachel rolled her eyes, but she leaned in and put her lips to mine for the briefest, most glorious second in history, and then she pulled away laughing.
    I didn’t laugh.
    Hell, I didn’t even breathe.
    I went off to college after that, and I pretended to be relieved of her presence, but that was one big fat lie.
    The entire time she was at UC Santa Barbara studying art and I was at San Diego State studying marine biology had been hell.
    I still live in San Diego, but we get together for weekends now, and without the pressures of school, life is pretty damn good.
    Of course, if Rachel would just realize that I’m her soul mate, then things might be great,