But now my mind, and my hormones, are working overtime. I'm seventeen, more than old enough I think to know what I want. I've always been a good girl, always did as I was told. Maybe too good if it took only one heated kiss to turn me into a seething inferno.

It's as if someone had turned a switch and I've gone from the sweet Caitlin Lyon who's never put a foot wrong to this person who has sex on the brain. Or maybe I've always been this way and had just ...