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Yes,you.

ONE

Mymotheralwaystoldmetofindawomanwhowouldbemyequalineveryway.“Don’tletyourselffallforsomeonewho’llputyourworldbeforetheirs.Fallforthepowerhousewho

livesasfearlesslyasyoudo.Findthewomanwhomakesyouwanttobeabetterman.”I’ddefinitelyfoundmyequal,thewomanwhomademylifealivinghellandlivedtoantagonizeme.A

womanwhosemouthIwantedtotapeshut...everybitasmuchasIwantedtokissit.Mygirlfriend,myformerintern,MissChloeMills.BeautifulBitch.Atleast,that’showIusedtoseeher,backwhenIwasanidiotandblindtohowhopelesslyinloveI

waswithher.I’dmostcertainlyfoundthewomanwhomademewanttobeabetterman;Ihadfallenforthefearlessone.ItjustsohappenedthatmostdaysIwasunabletogetmorethantwominutesalonewithher.

Mylife:finallygetthegirl,neveractuallygettoseeher.

I’dbeentravelingforthebetterpartofthelasttwomonthsinsearchofofficespacefortheRyanMediaGroupbranchweweresettingupinNewYork.Chloestayedbehind,andwhileourrecent—andrare—weekend together here in Chicago was full of friends, sunshine, and leisure, the time alone with herwasn’t nearly enough. We’d socialized the entire weekend, from morning until well past midnight,stumbling back tomy place each night, andwould barelymanage to get our clothes off before havingquiet,sleepysex.

Thetruthwas,ourlovemakingeachnight—whichhadgrownbothmoreintimateandmorewildovertime,andallowedusonlyminimalsleep—stillneverfeltlikeenough.Ikeptwaitingforittofeellikeweweresettled,orhadestablishedsomesolidroutine.But itneverhappened.Iwas inaconstantstateoflonging.AndMondaysweretheworst.Mondayswehadwall-to-wallmeetings,andtheentireworkweekstretchedoutaheadofme:bleakandChloeless.

Hearingthefamiliarcadenceofheelsclickingonthetile,IlookedupfromwhereIstoodattheprinterwaiting for some documents to appear. As if hearingmy inner plea, ChloeMills walked towardme,wearingaslimredwoolskirt,afittednavysweater,andheelsthat,quitefrankly,didn’tlookverysafeoutsideofthebedroom.WhenI’dleftearlythismorningtoprepareforaneighto’clockmeeting,theonlythingshe’dbeenwearingwasapalebeamoflightfromthesunrisethroughthebedroomwindow.

Isuppressedmysmile,andtriednottolooktoodesperate,butIdon’tknowwhyIbothered.Shecouldreadmyeveryexpression.

“Iseeyou’vefoundthemagicmachinethattakeswhateverisonyourcomputerscreenandputsitonpaper,”shecalled.“Inink.”

Islidmyhandintomypantspocket,jiggledsomechangethere,andfeltatrickleofadrenalineslipintomyveinsatherteasingtoneandapproach.“Actually,Idiscoveredthiswonderfulcontraptionmyfirstday

here. I just liked themomentsofblissfulquietwhen I’dmakeyougetupand leave theouteroffice toretrievemydocuments.”

Shestalkedtowardme,hersmilewideandeyesmischievous.“Asshole.”Fuck,yes.Cometome,lovely.Tenminutesinthecopyroom?Icouldeasilymakeyourdayinthose

tenminutes.“You’reinforaworkouttonight,”shewhisperedas,withoutslowingherpace,shepattedmyshoulder

andcontinuedpastmedownthehall.Istaredatherassasshegaveitalittleshake,andwaitedforhertocomebackandtorturemesome

more.Shedidn’t.That’sit?That’sallIget?Apatontheshoulder,someverbalforeplay,andanass-wiggle?Still,tonight:ourfirstfulleveningalonetogetherinweeks.We’dbeeninloveforoverayear—andfuckinglongerthanthat—andwe’dyettohavemorethanthe

lengthofaweekendalonetogethersinceSanDiego.Isighedandpulledmypapersfromtheprintertray.Weneededavacation.

Back inmy office, I dropped the files onmy desk and stared at my computermonitor, which, tomysurprise,displayedamostlyemptycalendar. I’dpulled insanely longworkdays theentireweekbeforejust so I could get home to Chloe early, so aside from Payroll grabbing me early this morning, myschedulehadremainedopen.Chloe,however,wasclearlybusyinhernewposition.

Imissedhavingherasmyintern.Imissedbossingheraround.Ireallymissedherbossingmearoundinreturn.

Forthefirsttimeinmonths,Ihadtimetositinmyofficeandliterallydonothing.Iclosedmyeyesandahundredthoughtsfilteredpastinmereseconds:theviewoftheemptyNewYorkofficesjustbeforeI’dleftfortheairport.Theprospectofpackingupmyhouse.Thefarpreferableprospectofunpackinginanew home with Chloe. And then my brain went down its favorite path: Chloe naked and in everyconceivableposition.

WhichledbacktooneofmyfavoritememoriesofChloeandme:themorningafterherpresentation.Duetotheheatandtensionthatcamewithactuallyadmittingwewerenolongerhate-fuckingbutactuallyinterestedinsomethingmore,wehadhadoneofourbiggestargumentsever.Ihadn’tseenherinmonths,soIshowedupatherpresentationforthescholarshipboardtowatchhernailit.Andshedid.

Afterward, though,despite everythingwe’d saidupstairs in theboardroom, therewas still somuchmoretosay.Therealityofourreunionstillfeltsonew,andIhadn’tbeensurewherewestood.

Oncewewereonthesidewalk,Istareddownather:athereyes,andlips,andherneck,whichwasstilla littlered fromthebitingkisses I’dplaced thereonlyminutesbefore.Thewayshereachedupandrubbedherfingeroverwhatappearedtobeasmallhickeypushedanelectricreminderfrommybraintomycock:thisreunionisnicebutit’stimetogetherhomeandfuckherintothemattress.

Iwasn’tsurewewereonthesamepageaboutthat,though.Outside in the daylight, she looked like shewas about to fall over.Of course shewas.Knowing

Chloe,she’dprobablybeenpreparingandfine-tuningherpresentationforthelastseventy-twohoursstraight,nosleep.ButIhadn’tseenherinsolong—couldIkeepittogetherlongenoughtojustlethergohometorest?Ifsheneededtonap,Icouldjusthangoutandwaitforhertowakeup,right?Icouldliedownnearher,reassuremyselfthatshewasreallyhereandwewerereallydoingthisandjust...what?Touchherhair?

Holyshit.HadIalwaysbeenthiscreepy?Chloe hitched her computer bag up over her shoulder, and the movement pulled me out of my

thoughts.ButwhenIblinkedbackintofocus,Isawthatshewasstaringoffintothedistance,towardtheriver.“Youokay?”Iasked,duckingtomeethereyes.Shenodded,startlingalittleasifshe’dbeencaught.“I’mfine,justoverwhelmed.”“Alittleshell-shocked?”Herexhaustedsmilepulledat something tenderbeneathmyribs,but thewayshe lickedher lips

beforespeakingtuggedinsidemeabitlower.“IwassosadthinkingIwasn’tgoingtoseeyoutoday.Andthismorning, Ispent theentirewalkbetweenyourbuildingandhere thinkinghowweird itwasthat Iwasgoing tobedoing thiswithoutyou,orElliott,oranyone fromRyanMedia.And thenyoucamehere,andof courseyoupissedmeoff, but youalsomademe laugh . . .”She tiltedherhead,studiedmyface.“ThepresentationwasexactlywhatIwantedittobe,andthenthejoboffers...andyou.Youtoldmeyouloveme.You’rehere.”Shereachedouttopressherpalmflattomychest.Iknewshecouldfeelmyheartslammingagainst

mysternum.“MyadrenalineisslowingandnowI’mjust...”Shemovedherhandawayfrommeandwaveditinfrontofherbeforeitseemedtodeflateatherside.“I’mnotsurehowtonightisgoingtowork.”Howtonightwasgoingtowork?Icouldtellherexactlyhowitwouldwork.We’dtalkuntilitwas

dark,and then fuckuntil the suncameup. I reached forher, slippingmyarmaroundher shoulder.Christ,shefeltgood.“Letmeworryaboutallofthat.I’lldriveyouhome.”Thistimesheshookherhead,pullingmorefullybackintothemoment.“It’sokayifyouhavetogo

backtowork,wecan—”Scowling,Igrowled,“Don’tberidiculous.It’salmostfour.I’mnotgoingbacktowork.Mycaris

hereandyou’regettinginit.”Hersmileturnedsharpatthecorners.“BossyBennettemerges.NowI’mdefinitelynotgoingwith

you.”“Chloe,I’mnotkidding.I’mnotlettingyououtofmysightuntilChristmas.”She squinted up at the late afternoon June sun. “Christmas? That sounds a little gimp-in-the-

basementformytastes.”

“Ifyou’renotintothat,thisrelationshipmightnotworkafterall,”Iteased.Shelaughed,butdidn’tanswer.Instead,thosedeepbrowneyesstaredupatme,unblinkingandhard

toread.Ifeltsooutofpracticewiththis,andstruggledtohidemyfrustration.Placingmyhandsonherhips,Ibenttopressasmallkisstothecenterofhermouth.Fuck,Ineeded

more.“Let’sgo.Nobasements.Justus.”“Bennett—”Icutheroffwithanotherkiss,paradoxicallyrelaxedbythistinydisagreement.“Mycar.Now.”“Yousureyoudon’twanttohearwhatIhavetosay?”“Absolutelypositive.Youcan talkall youwantonce Ihavemy face firmlyplantedbetweenyour

legs.”ChloenoddedandfollowedwhenI tookherhandandgentlypulledher towardtheparkingdeck,

butshewassmilingmysteriouslyallthewhile.

Theentiredrivetoherplace,shetickledherfingersupanddownmythigh,leanedtolickmyneck,slidherhandovermycock,and talkedabout the tinyredpanties sheputon thismorning,needing thatlittleconfidenceboost.“WillitshatteryourconfidenceifItearthemoff?”Iasked,leaningtokissherataredlight.The

carbehindmehonkedjustwhenitwasgettinggood:whenherlipsweregivingwaytotinybitesandhersounds filledmymouthandmyheadand—fuck—myentirechest. Ineeded togethernakedandbeneathme.Intheelevatoronthewayuptoherapartment,itwaswild.Shewashere,holyfuckshewashere,

andI’dmissedhersomuch;ifIhadmyway,thisnightwasgoingtolastforthreedays.Shepushedherskirtupoverherhips,andIliftedher,steppingbetweenherlegsandpressingmyachingcockintoher.“Goingtomakeyoucomesomanytimes,”Ipromised.“Mmm,promise?”“Promise.”Irockedmyhipsagainstherandshegasped,whispering,“Okay,butfirst—”Theelevatordingedandshewiggledherselffree,slippingtothefloor.Withahesitatinglook,Chloe

smoothedherskirtbackdown,andwalkedaheadofmeintothehallwayandtowardherapartment.Mystomachdropped.Ihadn’tbeenbackheresincewewereapartandI’dconnedhersecurityguardintolettingmeupto

talktoher.I’dendedupspendingtheentiretimeconversingwiththeoutsideofherdoorinstead.Ifeltstrangely anxious. I wanted to only feel relieved at our reunion, not think about everything we’dmissedoutoninourmonthsapart.Todistractmyself,Ibentlowandsuckedattheskinbeneathherearandbeganworkingonthezipperatthebackofherskirtasshefumbledwithherkey.

Sheswungthedooropen,turningtome.“Bennett—”shestarted,butIpushedherinsideandbackagainstthenearestwall,quietingherwithmymouth.Fuck,shetastedgood,amixofthelemonwatershe’d been drinking and that familiar taste she always had: soft mint and softer, hungry lips. MyfingersteasedatthebackofherskirtbutIlostmyfinesse,yankingthezipperdownandshovingthefabrictothefloor,immediatelyreachingforherblazer.Whythefuckisshestillwearingthisgoddamnthing?Whyisshestillwearinganything?Beneathherdeeppurpledressshirt,hernippleshardenedasIstared,andIreachedouttocircle

onewithafingertip.Hersharpgasppulledmyeyestohers.“Imissedthis.Imissedyou.”Hertonguepeekedouttowetherlips.“Me,too.”“Fuck,Iloveyou.”WhenIkissedherthroat,herchestliftedandfellwithquickenedbreaths,andIwasn’tsurehowthis

wasgoingtogodown,howIcouldpossiblyslowdown.WouldItakeherhere,fastandhardfirst,orwouldIcarryhertoacouchorchair,kneeldown,andjusttasteher?I’dbeenthinkingaboutallofitforso long—playingout inmyheadhoweveryscenariowouldgo—andin themomentI felta littleparalyzedbytherealityofherhere,intheflesh.I needed it all. I needed to feel her soundsandher skin, losemyself in the comfort of herhand

wrappedaroundme,watchthesweatbeadherbrowwhilesherodeme,showingmehowmuchshe’dmissedme,too.I’dseeitinthewayherrhythmwouldfalterwhenshegotcloser,orshewouldclutchmewhenIwouldsayhernameinthatquietwhispershealwaysliked.MyhandsshookasIreachedupandcarefullyslippedhertopbuttonfree.Itregisteredsomewhere

intheever-shrinkingevolvedportionofmybrainthatIdidn’twanttodestroythebuttonsontheshirtshe’dwornforherthesisdefense.Ialsowantedtosavorthis.Savorher.“Bennett?”“Mmm?”Iundidanotherbutton,ranafingeracrossthehollowofherthroat.“Iloveyou,”shesaid,herhandsbracedonmyforearms,eyeswide.Myhandsfaltered,andIlost

mybreath.“But...you’regoingtohatewhatI’mabouttotellyou.”Iwasstillstuckonthe I loveyou.Mygrin felta littleoutofcontrol.“What . . .?Whateveryou

havetosay,I’msureIwon’thateit.”Shewinced,turningtolookattheclockonthewall.Itwasthefirsttimeitoccurredtometotakea

lookaroundherapartment.Isteppedbackinsurprise;herplacelookednothinglikeIexpected.EverythingaboutChloehadalwaysbeenimpeccable,stylish,current.Butherapartmentcouldnot

befartherfromthatdescription.Thelivingroomwastidy,butfullofwornfurnitureand things thatdidn’t look like anything she would own. Everything was brown and tan; the couches lookedcomfortablebutliketheyweremadeoutofthesamematerialasastuffedanimal.Asmallcollectionofwoodenowlswasclusteredonashelfnearatinytelevisionand, inthekitchen, theclockthatshe’d

glancedathadabigsmilingbumblebeeon the facewith thewords“BeeHappy!” ingarishbubbleletters.“This...isnotwhatIexpected.”Chloefollowedmyattentionaroundtheapartmentandthenletaloudlaughburstfree.Itwasthe

same laugh she used to let out before she would verbally eviscerate me. “What would you haveexpected,Mr.Ryan?”I shrugged, notwanting to insult her but feeling sincerely curious about this disconnect. “I just

expectedyourplacetolookalittlemorelikeyou.”“What,youdon’tlikemyowls?”sheasked,grinning.“Ido,yes,theyjust—”Istarted,runninganervoushandintomyhair.“Andthesecouches?”sheinterrupted.“Don’tyouthinkwecouldhavefunonthem?”“Baby,wecouldhavefunonanysurfaceinthisplace,I’mjustsayingIexpectedyourplacetobe

less...”Fuck.WhywasIstill talking?I lookedoveratherandshehadahandoverhermouth, laughing

silently.“Calmdown,”shesaid.“Thiswasmymom’sapartment.Iloveit,butyou’reright.Noneofthisstuff

ismine.WhenIwasinschoolitjustdidn’tmakesenseformetosellit,ortogetnewthings.”I took another curious glance around. “You could buy yourself hundred-dollar panties but you

didn’twantanewcouch?”“Don’tbesuchasnob.Ididn’tneedanewcouch.AndIfrequentlyneedednewpanties,”shesaid

quietly,meaningfully.“Hellyesyoudid.”Withthisperfectreminder,Isteppedclosetoher,resumingmygentleattackonherlineofbuttons.

Pushinghershirtoverhershouldersanddownherarms,Istaredatwhereshestoodinfrontofme,inonlyaredlacebraandmatchingunderwear.Theyweretiny.“Tellmewhatyouwant,”Isaid,feelingalittledesperateasIpushedherhairbehindhershoulder

soIcouldsuckonherneck,herjaw,herear.“Mycock?Mymouth?Myhands?Christ,I’mdoingitalltonightbutwheredoesonestart?Ihaven’tseenyouinmonthsandfeellikeI’mlosingmymind.”Ireachedforherarm,urginghercloser.“Baby,putyourhandsonme.”Sheranherhandsupmyneckandcuppedmyface.Icouldfeelhershaking.“Bennett.”Onlywhenshesaidmynamelikethis—likeshewasshyandmaybeevenanxious—didIremember

shesaidshehadsomethingtotellmeotherthanIloveyou.SomethingIwouldn’tlike.“Whatisit?”Hereyeswereenormous,searchingmineandfullofapology.“Ijustfinishedmydefense,and—”“Oh,shit.I’msuchanass.Ishouldtakeyoutodinneror—”“—andIpromisedJuliaandSarathatwewouldgoout—”“—maybewecouldgetsomedinnerafterImakeyoucome—”Ibarreledon.“—fordrinksaftermypresentation—”

“Ijustneedtohearyoucomeonceandthenwecango.Justgiveme...”Istopped,finallylettingherwordssettlein.“Wait,what?You’regoingoutwithJuliaandSara?Tonight?”Shenodded,eyestight.“Ididn’tknowyou’dbehere.Ican’ttellyouhowmuchIwanttocalland

cancel.Butthethingis,Ican’t.Notafterhowgoodthey’vebeentomethelastfewmonths...whenyouandIwere...”Igroaned,pressingtheheelofmyhandstomyeyes.“Whydidn’tyoutellmethisbeforeIgotyou

naked?Holyshit,howamIsupposedtoletyougonow?I’mgoingtobehardforhours.”“Itriedtotellyou.”Tohercredit,shelookedasfrustratedasIfelt.“Dowehavetimeto...”Ishookmyhead,lookingaroundasiftheanswerwereburiedsomewhere

inthisancientfurniture.“Icouldprobablygetusbothoffin,like,twominutes.”Shelaughed.“I’mnotsurethat’ssomethingtobragabout.”Thehellitwasn’t.Her small gaspof surprisewas stolenbymy lipsas I kissedher, tongueand teethandnot even

caringifweonlyhadafewminutes.Icoulddoafewminutes.Islidmyhandovertheracingpulseinherthroat,betweenherbreastsandlower,downthefrontof

herstomach.Imovedlowerstill,findingthatfamiliar,favoriteplacewhereshewaswarmandslick,and theroofcould fall inandIwouldn’tevennoticebecause,God,nothingexistedbutherandherlittlesoundsandquietwhisperstokeepgoing,keepgoing.“Bennett,”shewhispered.“Please.”Ireacheddownformyownpants,andhadjuststartedtospeak—Andwasinterruptedbyasharpknockonthedoor.Afamiliarvoicefloatedintoherentryway.“We’rehere,MissSeriousBusinessGraduate,andwe’re

readyforthedrinking!”“Thisisajoke.Tellmethisisajoke,”Isaid,glaringather.Sheshookherhead,bitingbackasmile.“Iaminnomoodtosharerightnow.Youhavegottobefuckingkiddingme.”“IforgethowmuchIloveseeingyouonanangrytear.”She walked to the door in her fucking underwear, and opened it a crack before turning and

sprintingintoherbedroom,leavingmetogreettheintruders.Whatintheactualfuck.“I’ll be out in a few!”Chloe yelled over her shoulder, her nearly bare ass disappearing into a

bedroomdownthehall.Juliawhistledloudly,steppingoverthethreshold,andthenstopped,andbrokeintolaughterwhen

shesawme.“Wow,Ididn’texpectyoutoanswerthedoorinyourunderwear,Chloe.”Sarawalkedinwithher

hands over her eyes, reaching out blindly. She grabbed a handful of my half-unbuttoned shirt andshriekedwhensheuncoveredhereyesandsawthatitwasmeshewasholdingonto.“Mr.Ryan!”“Hello,ladies,”Isaid,voiceflat.Istraightenedmyshirt,pulledmytiebackintoplace.

“Ohboy,didweinterruptsomething?”Juliaasked,eyeswideandteasing.“Yes,infact.Wewere...becomingreacquainted.”Chloecalledoutfromoneofthebedroomsdownthehalltohelpourselvestothechampagneinthe

fridge,andItriedtoignorethewayJulia’seyesdroppedtomyzipper.Istoodstill,lettinghertakeagoodlonglook.Myerectionwasgoneanyway.Mostly.“Ididn’trealizeitwastobeagirls’nightout,”Isaid,whenthesilencefeltlikeithaddraggedon

forever.Sarasteppedback,hereyesseemingtostruggletostayabovemyshoulders,andexplained,“Idon’t

thinkanyofusexpectedyoutobehereand...wantanightin.”Imostdefinitelywantedanightin.IneverypartofChloe.Juliastudiedmeforaminuteandthensmiled.“I’lladmitIwasprettysureBennettwouldbehere.”I couldn’t help but mirror her grin. She had, after all, called me to urge me to go to Chloe’s

presentation.Shewasobviouslyonmyside.EvenifshehadinterruptedmyattempttofuckChloeforthefirsttimeinforever.Iturned,movingintothekitchentowashmyhands.Juliafollowed,andbehindmeIheardheropen

thebottleofchampagne,thesqueakandpopandthenthequietfizzremindingmehowmuchI’dratherbeopeningthatbottleoverChloe’snakedbody,andlickingthefoamybubblesfromherskin.Juliacontinued,“ButIthinkweshouldallgoouttocelebrate,andhecanhaveasmuchofheras

hewants.”Shepouredfourflutesofchampagneandthenhandedonetome.“You’lljusthavetowaituntillaterto...reacquaint.”Chloeemerged fromher room inblack skinny jeans, strappyblackheels,anda shimmeringblue

tanktopthatmadeherskinlookgolden.NowayinhellwouldIbeabletokeepmyhandsoffherifsheworethatout.“Chloe,”Istarted,walkingovertoherandsettingmychampagnedownonthekitchencounterwith

ashakinghand.Iscowledatherhair,tiedbackinasleeklowponytail.HereyessparkledwithamusementandshestretchedtoreachmyearsoonlyIcouldhear.“Youcan

takeitdownlater.”“Youshouldcountonit.”“Doyouwanttograbit?Pull it?”sheasked,kissingtheshellofmyear.Inodded,eyesclosing.

“Ordoyouwanttofeelmyhairdownandlooseonyourstomachwhilemymouthworksyourcock?”Ireachedformychampagnewithashakyhand,downedit.“Let’sgowithyes.”NeedcoiledlowinmystomachandIwastornbetweenwantingtosmashsomethingandwantingto

dragherbackintoherbedroomandpeelthosejeansdownherlegs.Absolutelynopartofmefeltlikespendinganeveningdrinkingwineandeatingcheeseand listening togirl talk. Iwasn’tsureI’dbeabletokeepittogether.Asifreadingmymind,shewhispered,“It’lljustmakeitbetterwhenwegethome.”“Idoubtthatisevenpossible.”

Herfingerslightlyscratchedovermychest.“I’vemissedthatsurlyface.”Ignoringher, Iasked,“Howaboutyoucome tomyplace later?Gooutwith thegirls, enjoy this

night.I’llbetherewhenyou’reready.”Shestretchedandslidaslow,warmkissacrossmymouth.“Whathappenedtonotlettingmeoutof

yoursightuntilChristmas?”

I’d expected a dance club, maybe something fancy with twenty-dollar drinks and miles of twenty-somethingcoedsintinyblackdresses.WhatIhadn’texpectedwasalow-keybarinthesuburbs,withdartsandwhatJuliacalled“thebestsamplingofbeerinIllinois.”As long as they couldmakemea vodka gimlet and I could be in constant physical contactwith

Chloe,thenightmightnotbetoomuchofadisaster.Ifollowedthegirlsinside,shootingdaggersateveryleeringdouchebagintheplaceaswemadeourwayuptothebar.Juliaploppedherselfdownonawornleatherstool,shoutingsomethingtothebartenderabouttheusualfortheladiesandsomethingpinkfortheprettyboy.Onsecondthought,thiswasgoingtobealongnight.Sara—clearlystillabitunnervedbymycompany—saton theothersideofChloe,andmadeher

recount every last detail about her defense. Chloe told her about Clarence Cheng, about how I’dbargedinthereandbeenanasshole,howshe’dpresentedbothprojects,andevenbeenofferedajob.“Twojobs,”Iclarified,staringherdownsosheknewIwasthinkingshe’dbetterdamnwellfucking

takethejobatRMG.Sherolledhereyesbutnoneofuscouldmissherproudsmile.WiththeirbeersandmypinkCosmo

raisedintheair,wetoastedChloeonajobwelldone.Besidemeshedownedherbeerandthenwiggledoffherseat.“Who’supforsomedarts?”Sararaisedherhandandjumpedalittle.Afterasinglebeer,sheseemedtipsyandlooseenoughto

notactlikewewerestillintheoffice.IslidmygazedownthelengthofChloe’sbody.Iratherlikedtheideaofwatchingherstretchingandmovingtoplaydartsinthattightlittlenumber.“Youcoming?”sheasked,leaningdownandpressingherbreastsintomyforearm.Fuckingtease.“Hopingto,verysoon.”Iletmyeyeslingeronhermouthbeforedroppingtoherchest.Beneaththe

thinfabricofhertop,hernipplespebbled.Herlaughbroughtmyattentionbacktoherredlipsandshepushedthemtogetherinaplayfulpout.

“IsBennettalittlekeyedup?”“Bennettisalotkeyedup,”Isaid,pullingherbetweenmylegsandkissingthecurveofherear.I

wantedtobepatientandletherenjoythisnight,butpatiencehadneverreallybeenmystrongsuit.“BennettwantsChloenakedandtouchinghiscock.”Withagiggle,shedancedawayandtothebackofthebar,herarmlinkedwithSara’s.Julia put her hand on my shoulder, glancing quickly behind us to make sure Chloe was out of

earshot.“Youdidgood.”

Iwasuncomfortablediscussingpersonalissueswithallbutafewpeopleinmylife,andthismostpersonalofallconversationswasthelast thingIwantedtohavewithavirtualstranger.Still,JuliahadtakenthetimetotrackmedownforChloe’ssake.Thatdefinitelytookballs.“Thankyouforthecall,”Isaid.“ButIdowantyoutoknowIwouldhavegonetoheranyway.I

couldn’tstayawayanymore.”Juliatookasipofherbeer.“Ifiguredifyouwereanythinglikeher,youwereabouttoheadinfor

anotherround.IcalledbecauseIwantedyoutohavethatconfidenceyouneededtogoinandjustbeyourbestbastardself.”“Iwasn’ttoomuchofabastard.”Ifrowned,considering.“Idon’tthink.”“I’msure,”Juliadrawled.“You’retheportraitofcompromise.”Ignoringthis,Iliftedmyfruitygirldrinkanddrainedit.“She’ssohappytonight,”Juliamurmured,almosttoherself.“She’sthin.”Iglancedatwhereshestood,poisedandreadytothrowadart.Shedidseemhappy,

andforthatIwasthrilled,butthedifferenceinherbodywasalsohardformetoignore.“Toothin.”Nodding, Julia said,“She exercised toomuch,worked toomuch.”Her eyes searchedmine for a

beatbeforesheadded,“Itwasn’tgood,Bennett.Shewasawreck.”“SowasI.”Sheacknowledged thiswitha teasingsmile.Thesadnesswas in thepast,afterall.“So ifyou’re

goingtokeepherinbedforthenextfewdays,justmakesureyougiveherbreakstoeat.”Inodded,movingmyeyestothebackoftheroom,wheremygirlspunacoupleoftimes,tookaim,

and thenbarelyhit thedartboard.SheandSarabroke into laughter,pausingonly to say somethingthatthenmadethembothlaughharder.AndwhilesheplayedanddancedtotheRollingStones,I felt theweightofmyloveforhersettle

intoaheavywarmthinmystomach.Twomonthsapartwasnothinginthegrandschemeofwhatwehad ahead of us, but in our shared history it felt enormous. I wanted to dwarf it with time spenttogether.Ineededtogetback,getcloser.Iwavedtothebartender,mouthing,“Check,”whenshelookedat

me.Juliastoppedmewithawarninghandonmyarm.“Don’tfuckitup.She’sindependent,andshe’s

beendoingitonherownforsolongshe’llneverbethegirltotellyouhowmuchsheneedsyou.Butshe’llshowyouhowmuchshewantsthis.Chloeisaboutaction,notwords.I’veknownhersinceweweretwelve,andyou’reitforher.”Two smooth arms slipped around my waist from behind, and Chloe pressed a kiss between my

shoulderblades.“Whatarewetalkingaboutoverhere?”“Football,”JuliasaidjustasIanswered,“Politics.”Ifeltherlaughandsheslidundermyarm,wrappingherselfaroundme.“Soyouweretalkingabout

me.”“Yes,”webothanswered.

“AndwhatamessIwasandhowhappyIlooktonight,andhowBennettbetternotfuckitupthistime.”Julieglancedatme, punting thatone inmydirectionas she liftedherbeer, raised it ina silent

toast,andthenleftusaloneattheendofthebar.Chloeturnedherbrowneyesonme.“Didshetellyouallofmysecrets?”“Hardly.”Isetmydrinkdownandwrappedmyarmaroundher.“Canwegonow?I’vebeenaway

fromyoufortoolongandI’mreachingthelimitonhowmuchsharingI’mwillingtotolerate.Iwantyoualone.”Ifeltherlaughasasmallshakingofherbodyinmyarm,andthenthequietsoundmadeittomy

ears.“You’resodemanding.”“I’mjusttellingyouwhatIwant.”“Finethen.Bespecific.Whatdoyoureallywant?”“Iwantyouonyourkneesonmybed. Iwantyousweatyandbegging. Iwantyouwetenough to

drinkfrom.”“Shit,”shewhispered,hervoicestrungtight.“I’malreadythere.”“Thendamn,MissMills.Getthefuckinmycar.”

TWO

Withmyhandsonthesteeringwheel,andherhandseverywhereelse—mythighs,mycock,myneck,mychest—Iwasn’tevensurewewouldmakeithomesafely.Especiallynotonceshe liftedmyrightarmsoshecouldduckdownandunzipmypants,pullmy

cock frommyboxers, anddragher tongueup its length. I’dwanted toget herhome, but fuck, thiswoulddojustaswell.“Oh,God,”shewhispered,beforetakingallofmeinhermouth.“Holyfuck,”Imumbled,movingintotheslowlaneoftraffic.Itwas soperfect, all overagain:herhandsandmouthworking in tandem, tinymoansvibrating

againstmeandsoundingtoalltheworldasifshe’dneverwantedanythingasmuchasshe’dwantedtofeelmelikethis.Shestartedslow,longpullsandtinyteasinglicks,lookingupatmethroughdarklashesuntilIthoughtImightlosemymind.Butshereadmelikeshealwaysdid,knowingwhennottostop,when tomove fasteror rougher, squeezingmybase tightly.What sentmereelingwasherownexcitement;hereyesgrewdark,pleading,herbreathgrew labored,andhersoundsaroundmegrewmorefrantic.Toosoon,Iwasgrippingthesteeringwheel,pantingandbegging,and,finally,cursingloudlyasIcameinhermouth.IhavenoideahowImanagedtosteerthecarontomystreet,orpullitintomydriveway,butwith

shakyhands, somehowIgotus there.Shekissedmynavel,and thenrestedher foreheadagainstmythighandthecargrewcompletelysilent.Itwasn’texactlyhowIimaginedbeingwithheragainforthefirsttime,butthewayitwassohurriedandspontaneous...thatfeltlikeus,too.Whenshepushedagainstmyarmsoshecouldsitup,Ishiftedinmyseat,reachingtozipmypants

andfastenmybelt.“Whatthehell?”sheasked,lookingoutthewindow.Hersurprisedtoneburstthroughmysexhaze.

“Isthisyourhouse?Whyarewehere?”“Youwantedtogotoyourplace?”Shrugging,shesaid,“Ijustassumedwewould.Idon’thaveanyofmythingshere.”“Idon’thaveanythingatyourplace,either.”“ButIhavesparetoothbrushes.Doyouhavesparetoothbrushes?”Whatthefuckisshetalkingabout?“Youcanusemine.Whatthefuck?”Sighing,sheopenedherdoorandmumbled,“Suchaman.”“Tobeclear,”Isaid,gettingoutofthecarandfollowingherupthewalkway,“Ibroughtyouhere

becausethisiswhereIwasgoingtobringyouafterSanDiego.Iwasgoingtotieyoutomyheadboardandspankthefuckoutofyou.AndIintendthatagain,aftereverythingyouputmethrough.”Chloe stoppedwhere she stoodonmyporch,herback tome for several long, confusing seconds

beforesheturnedtostareatme.“Whatdidyoujustsay?”

“Did I stutter?” I asked,andwhen she just continued to stare, I explained,“Yes,wewereapartbecauseIwasajerk.Butsowereyou.”Hereyesnarrowedandgrewdark.Iwashalfscared,andhalfthrilledasfuckthatshewasaboutto

blowupatme.Shebackedmetomyfrontdoor,herfistcurlingtightaroundmytiebeforesheyankeddown,pullingmesoour faceswerenearlyeven.Herdarkeyeswerewildandwide.“Givemeyourkeys.”Reachingintomypocket,Ipulledthemout,depositingtheminherwaitingpalmwithoutquestion.Iwatchedassheflippedthroughthemandactuallyfoundtherightkeyonthefirstguess.“It’sthe

toplockandthe—”Shecutmeoffwithafingertiptomylips.“Shh.Notalking.”I tried to puzzle out what was happening.Obviously she hadn’t expectedme to tease her about

leavingme theway shedid.Maybe she suspectedwe’d left all of that discussion in the conferenceroomwherewe reunited.And I suppose inmanywayswehad. Ididn’tneedher toapologize,and Ididn’tfeellikeIneededtoapologizeanymore.Butourseparationhadbeenashittyfewmonths,soitdidn’tfeelliketheconversationaboutitwasentirelyover.Besides,spankingherseemedlikethemostappropriatewaytoworkitalloutofoursystems.Herhanddidn’tfumblebehindmeassheslippedthekeyintothelock.Iheardthefamiliarsqueak

andclick,thenshepushedthedooropenandbackedmeoverthethreshold.“Straightbacktomylivingroom,”Ioffered.“Ordownthehalltomybed.”Icouldsensehersteeringmetothelivingroom,hereyesmovingbetweenmyface,herhandonmy

tie,andthehousebehindher.Itwas,afterall,thefirsttimeshewasseeingmyhome.“It’snice,”shewhispered,seemingtodecidewhatshewasdoingwithmeasshepulledmeupshort.

“It’ssoclean.It’sso...you.”“Thankyou,”Isaid,laughing.“Ithink.”Asifrememberingthatshewaspunishingmeforsomething,shethrewmeasternlook.“Stayhere.”SheleftandalthoughIwastemptedtoseewhatshewasupto,Ifollowedherinstruction.Afteronly

afewsecondsshereturnedwithoneofmyhigh-backeddiningroomchairs.Onceshehaditsituatedbehindme,shepressedonmyshoulderstourgemetositdown.Turning,shewalkedovertomysoundsystem,pickeduptheremote,andscannedthebuttons.“Firstturnonthe—”“Shh.”Withoutturning,Chloeheldupasinglehandtoquietme.Iclosedmymouth,jawtense.Shewasstretchingmypatiencealittle.Ifshehadn’tindicatedthatI

wassupposedtostayseated,andIdidn’tsuspectshewantedtoplay,Iwouldhavehadherflatonherstomachbythenandalreadyyankedherassintheairforaspanking.Afteronlyafewmoments,asmooth,pulsingrhythmslidintotheroomwithawoman’shuskyvoice

layeredontop.Chloehesitatedatthestereo,shouldersmovingwithherdeep,nervousbreaths.“Baby,comehere,”Iwhispered,hopingsheheardmeoverthemusic.

Sheturned,returningtomeandstandingsoclosethatherthighspressedagainstmyknees.Myfacewasatherchestlevel,andIcouldn’thelpbutleanforward,kissherbreastthroughhershirt.ButherhandscameupandpushedmyshouldersbacksothatIwasagainsittingupstraight.Shefollowedmybody,movingtostraddlemylap.Withbothhands,shereachedforwardandtoyed

withmytie.“Whatyousaidoutside...,”shewhispered.“Maybewedoneedtotalksomemore.”“Okay.”“Butifyoudon’twanttodoitnow,wecangotoyourroomandyoucandoeverythingyouwantto

me.”Sheliftedhergazetomyface,darkeyessearching.“Wecantalklater.”“I’lltalkaboutanythingyouwant.”Iswallowed,andsmiledupather.“ThenI’lltakeyoutomy

bedanddoeverythingIwant.”Icouldhardlycatchmybreath.Ireacheduptoundothetopbuttonofmyshirt,butshecaughtmy

handandpulleditdown,hereyebrowraisedinsilentquestion.Slowly,sheundidmytieuntilitwaswrappedaroundherfistlikeaboxer’stape.Iwassoturnedon

bythispowerinherthatwhenshemovedmyhandstothesideofthechair,Ididn’treallynotice.Mycock grew uncomfortably hard, and I shifted my hips to adjust the angle in my pants, my heartpoundingbeneathmyribs.Whatthefuckwasshegoingtodo?“Tellmeyouloveme,”shewhispered.Myheartwasracingandmybloodseemedtopoundthroughmyveins.“Iloveyou.Wildly.I’m...”

I’dimaginedthisathousanddifferenttimes,butthismomentfeltwaytooloadedandmywordscameoutinabreathlessrush.Takingadeepbreathandclosingmyeyes,Imurmured,“I’mwildlyinlovewithyou.”“ButyouweremadatmewhenIleft.”My stomach tightened.Was this going to turn into a fight? Andwould that be a good or a bad

thing?Chloeleanedforward,kissedmychin,mylips,mycheek.Sheslidhermouthtomyear.AndthenIfeltatugaroundmywrists;shehadboundmyhandsbehindthechairwithmytie.“It’s

okay,”shesaid.“Don’tworry.Ijustwanttotalkaboutit.”Shewanted to talkabout it,wanted to feel comfortablehearinghow it hadaffectedme,how I’d

beenangry.Butsheneededmetiedupfirst?Ismiled,turningtocatchherlipsinakiss.“Yes,Iwasmadatyou.Iwasmostlyheartbroken,butIwasangry,too.”“Tellmewhyyouweremad.”Hermouthmovedfartherawayfrommine,tomyneck,andshesucked

alongmyskinwhileIconsideredhowtoanswer.It felt likeourbreakuphadhappenedamillionyearsago,butalso like ithappenedonlyearlier

today.Thefactthatshewashere,straddlingmylapandkissingme,remindedmethatthiswasinmanywaysancienthistory.But thewaymychest twistedat thememoryof her leavingme . . . it felt tooclose.

“You never letme explain, or apologize. I called. Iwent over to your place. Iwould have doneanythingtoworkitout.”Shedidn’tsayanything,didn’ttrytodefendherself.Instead,shestoodandsteppedaway,bending

tounfastenthestrapofherheels.Shesteppedoutofthem,returningtome,runningherfingersintomyhairandpullingmyfaceagainstherchest.“Weknewitwasn’tgoingtobeeasytotransitionfromhate-fuckingtobeinginlove,”Isaidintothe

softfabricofhertop.“AndthefirsttimeImessedupyouleftme.”Sheslippedthetopbuttonfreeonherjeans,slowlypulledthezipperdown,andthenpeeledthem

off her legs. In a fewmore seconds, her shirt joined her jeans on the floor. She stood before me,completelynakedbutforherbraandtinyredlacepanties.Intheshadowedroom,herskinlookedlikesilk.Fuck,fuck,fuck,fuck.“I’donlyrealized that I lovedyou, thatmaybeIhadbeen in lovewithyou forawhile,and then

suddenlyyouweregone.”Ilookedupather,hopingIhadn’tgonetoofar.Sheslidovermylap,andIwantedmorethananythingtohavemyhandsfreetorunupherstrong

thighs.Instead,Istaredatwhereherlegspartedoverme,justafewinchesawayfrommycock.“I’msorry,”shewhispered. Iblinkedup insurprise.“Iwouldn’tchange it,becauseIdidwhat I

neededtodoatthetime.ButIknowithurtyou,andIknowitwasn’tfairtojustshutyouout.”Inodded,tiltingmychinsoshewouldcomecloserandkissme.Hermouthpressedtomine,softand

wet,andatinymoanescapedherlips.“Thankyouforcomingthismorning,”shesaidagainstme.“Wouldyouhavecometome?”Iasked.“Yes.”“When?”“Tomorrowmorning.AfterI’dfinishedmypresentation.I’ddecidedthataboutaweekago.”Igroaned,leaningforwardtokissher.ShearchedawaysoinsteadIkissedherchin,anddownher

throat.“Didyouseeanyoneelsewhilewewereapart?”Istoppedandgapedupather.“What—isthataseriousquestion?No.”Asmilespreadacrossherface.“Ijustneededtohearit.”“Ifyouletanothermantouchyou,Chloe,IsweartoGod,I—”“Settledown,Trigger.”Shepressedtwofingertipstomymouth.“Ididn’t.”Iclosedmyeyes,kissingherfingersandnodding.Theoffendingimageevaporatedslowlyfrommy

mind,butmyheartdidn’tseemtoslowevenatouch.Ifeltherbreathonmyneckjustabeatbeforesheasked,“Didyouthinkaboutme?”“Severaltimeseveryminute.”“Didyoueverthinkaboutfuckingme?”

All words slipped frommy head. Every word in the English language disappeared and I shiftedunderher,wantinghersointenselyinthisvulnerableandopenandquietmomentthatIfearedIwouldloseitthesecondshefreedmefrommypants.“Notatfirst,”Imanaged,finally.“Butafterafewweeks,Itried.”“Triedtotouchyourselfandthinkofme?Likeyourhandcouldstandinforme?”Iwatchedherexpressiongrowfromcurioustopredatorybeforeanswering,“Yeah.”“Didyoucome?”“Jesus,Chloe.”Howwasitsohottobegrilledbyherlikethis?Shedidn’tblinkorfidgetatallwhilewaitingformetoanswer.Shesimplystaredmedown.“Tell

me.”Icouldn’tfightmysmile.Alwayssuchaballbuster.“Acoupleoftimes.Itwasn’tverypleasurable

becauseyouwouldcomeintomyheadanditwasjustasfrustratingasitwasrelieving.”“Forme,too,”shesaid.“Imissedyousomuchithurt.AtworkImissedyou.Athome,inmybed,I

couldbarelystandit.TheonlytimeIcouldclearyoufrommyheadwaswhenIwas—”“Running,”Iwhispered.“Icantell.Youlosttoomuchweight.”Hereyebrowlifted.“Sodidyou.”“Ialsodrank toomuch,”Iadmitted,remindingher that thiswasn’tacontest.Shedidn’tneed to

proveshe’dfaredbetter.Iwasactuallyprettysureshehad.“Thefirstmonthwewereapartisstillkindofablur.”“Saratoldmehowyoulooked.ShetoldmeIwasn’tbeingfairbystayingawayfromyou.”Myeyebrowsinchedupinsurprise.Really?Sarahadsaidthat?“Youdidwhatyouneededtodo.”Leaningback,shelookeddownthelengthofmytorso,andthenuptomyeyes.Iwascurioustosee

thatshelookedalittlesurprised.Maybeevengiddy.“Youletmetieyouup.”Istaredupather.“OfcourseIdid.”“Ijustwasn’tsureyou’dletme.IthoughtI’dtrickedyou—Ithoughtyoumightsayno.”“Chloe,you’veownedmesincethefirstsecondIsawyou.I’dhaveletyoutiemeupbackinthe

conferenceroomifyou’dasked.”Atinysmilepulledatonesideofhermouth.“Iwouldn’thaveletyouifyou’dasked.”“Good.”Ileanedinforakiss.“You’resmarterthanIam.”Shestood,reachingbehindhertounfastenherbra.Itsliddownherarmsandflutteredtothefloor.

“Ithinkwe’vebothalwaysknownthat’strue.”The way I wanted her was a kind of steady, heavy ache. I was so hard I could feel my every

heartbeatthroughmycock,butIalsofeltlikemyvisionwasoversaturatedwithcolor:theredofherpantiesandlips,thebrownofhereyes,thecreamyivoryofherskin.Mybodywasscreamingforherstotakemeinside,butmybraincouldn’tstopdrinkingineachdetail.“Letmefeelyou.”Shereturnedtome,liftingherchesttomymouth.Ileanedforward,takinganipplebetweenmylips,

flickingitwithmytongue.Withoutwarning,shestoodandsteppedaway,turningherbacktomeandlookingoverhershoulderwithamischievoussmileonherface.

“Whatareyoudoing,littledevil?”Ipanted.Her thumbs hooked into thewaist of her lacy panties and shewiggled her hips as she began to

lowerthem.No.Nowayinhell.“Don’tyoufuckingdare,”Isaid,yankingmyhandsfreefromherflimsyknotandstandingtotower

overherlikeastormcloudforminginmyownlivingroom.“Godownthehallandgetonmybed.Ifyoueventhinkoftakingoffyourpanties,Iwilltakecareofmyselfandyou’llliethereandwatchmecome.”Her eyeswidened into enormouspoolsof black in thedark room,andwithoutanotherword she

turnedandsprinteddownthehalltomybedroom.

Andwiththatmemoryinmind,mydaywasofficiallyshot.Thatnighthadbeenthesinglemostintimatenightofmylife,andhadlaunchedourrelationshipfromGivingItaTryintoFullyCommitted. Iwouldnevergetover thewayshe turnedhervulnerability intoquietcommand,or thewayshe letme turn thetablesinmybedroom,tiehertomybedandnibbleateveryinchofherbody.

IgroanedasIrealizedIhadnoideawhenwewouldeverhavesuchalazynighttogetheragain,andpickedupmyphone.

Lunch?Itexted.Can’t,Chloereplied.MeetingwithDouglasfromnoontothree.Shootme.Ilookedattheclock.Itwas11:36.IslidmyphonebackonmydeskandreturnedtothearticleIwas

workingonfortheJournal.IwasuselessandIknewit.Afterabouttwominutes,Ipickedupmyphone,textingheragain,thistimeusingoursecretcode.Bat

signal.Sherepliedimmediately:Onmyway.

Theouterdooropenedandclosed,bringing the soundofChloe’sheels tappingacross the floorof theoffice justoutsidemine. IthadoncebeenChloe’s,butwhenshe’dreturned toRyanMediaGroupafterfinishingherMBA,shemovedtoanofficeofherownintheeastwing.Endresult:theouterofficenowremainedempty.I’dattemptedworkingwithafewdifferentassistants,buttheyneverreallyworkedout.Andreacriedallthetime.Jessetappedherpenonherdeskandtheeffectwasmuchlikeawoodpeckergoingatatree.Brucecouldn’ttype.

ApparentlyChloewasmoreofasaintfor“puttingupwithme”thanI’dgivenhercreditfor.Mydooropenedandshesteppedthrough,browsdrawntogether.Weusedthebatsignalprimarilyto

notifyeachotherofworkcrises,andforamomentIwonderedwhetherIwasoverreacting.“Whathappened?”sheasked,stoppingaboutafootawayfromme,herarmscrossedoverherchest.I

couldseeshewaspreparingforaprofessionalbattleonmybehalf,butIwantedhertofightafarmorepersonalone.

“Nothingworkrelated,”Isaid,rubbingmyjaw.“I...”Idriftedoff,staringateachpartofherfaceinturn:hereyesastheynarrowedinconcentration,thefull

lipsshe’dpulledtogetherinconcern,hersmoothskin.And,ofcourse,Iletmyeyesdroptoherbreastsbecauseshe’dpushedthemtogetherand...well,fuck.

“Areyoulookingatmychest?”“Yes.”“Yousentmethebatsignalsoyoucouldlookatmytits?”“Settledown,firecracker.IsentyouthebatsignalbecauseImissyou.”Herarmsfelltohersidesandseemedtostutter,fingersfumblingtostraightenthehemofhersweater.

“Howcanyoumissme?Istayedoverlastnight.”“Iknow.”Iknewthissideofher.Foreverknee-jerkingbacktoself-preservation.“Andwehadallweekendtogether.”“Yeah, you andme—and Julia and Scott,” I reminded her. “And Henry andMina. Not alone. Not

nearlyasmuchaswe’danticipated.”Chloeturnedherheadandlookedoutthewindow.Forthefirsttimeinweekswehadaperfect,sunny

day,andIwantedtotakeheroutsideandjust...sit.“IfeellikeImissyouallthetimelately,”shewhispered.Theknotinmychestunwoundabit.“Doyou?”Nodding,sheturnedbacktome.“Yourtravelschedulesucksrightnow.”Sheleanedforward,cocked

aneyebrow.“Andyoudidn’tkissmegoodbyethismorning.”“Idid,infact,”Isaid,smiling.“Youwerestillsleeping.”“Doesn’tcount.”“Areyoulookingforafight,MissMills?”Sheshrugged,strugglingtorepressasmileasshestudiedmecarefully.“Wecouldskipthefightandyoucouldjustsuckonmydickfortenminutesorso.”Withoutanotherbeatpassing,shesteppedcloseandslidherarmsaroundme,stretchingtopressher

faceintomyneck.“Iloveyou,”shewhispered.“AndIlovethatyousentthebatsignaljustbecauseyoumissedme.”

Iwasstrucksilent,forprobablytoolong,andIfinallymanagedtocroakoutan“Iloveyou,too.”Itwasn’tthatChloewasn’texpressive;shewas.Whenwewerealone,shewas—physically—themost

expressivewomanI’deverknown.ButwhereasItoldheroftenhowIfelt,Icouldcountontwohandsthenumberoftimesshe’dactuallysaidthewords“Iloveyou.”Ididn’tneedhertosayitmore,buteachtimeshehad,itaffectedmemoreprofoundlythanI’danticipated.

“Seriously, though,” Iwhispered, struggling to regainmy composure. “Maybe I just need a quickieoverthedesk.”

Shelaughed,shakingherheadagainstmyneckandreachingbetweenustopalmmycock.Iknewthisgame,anditwasentirelypossibleshewasgoingtodosomethingmildlythreateningthatwouldthrillme

asmuchasit terrifiedme.Butinsteadoflookingatmewithdangerinhereyes,sheturnedherheadtosuckonmyneck,whispering,“Ican’tsmelllikesexinthismeetingwithDouglas.”

“Youthinkyoudon’talwayssmelllikesex?”“Idon’talwayssmelllikeyou,”sheclarified,beforelickingmyneck.“Thehellyoudon’t.”Ithadbeensolongsincewe’dfooledaroundintheoffice,andIwassokeentofeelher;Iwantedto

tearmypantsdownmylegsandshoveherskirtoverherhips, thenruintheneatstacksofpaperonmydeskbythrowingherdownonit.

Mercifully,shekissedfrommyjawdownmyneckandslidalongmybodytothefloor,pullingherskirtupslightly,demurely,soshecouldkneelinfrontofme.

Butno...onceonthefloor,shekeptpullingherskirtupuntilitbunchedatherhips.Withonehand,she reachedbetweenher legs;with theother, shemadequickworkofmybeltandzipper. Iclosedmyeyes,needingtocalmmymindforabeatasshefreedmequickly,andwithouthesitationpulledmycockintohermouth.I’dbeennearlyhard,andwithhertouchI lengthened.Warm,wetsuctionsliddownmylengthandbackupagain,harderwiththesecondpassassheadjustedtothefeelofmeinhermouth.

Ifeltherbreathcomeoutinlittleburstsagainstmynavel,couldhearthesoundofherfingersmovingoverherselfasshekneeledonthefloor.

“Areyoutouchingyourself?”Herheadshiftedslightlyasshenodded.“Wereyoualreadywetforme?”Shestilledforabeat,andthenreachedherhandupoverherhead.Bendingdown,Isuckedtwoofher

fingersintomymouth.Fuck.Itobliteratedmetoseesoclearlyhowmuchshewantedthis.Iknewfromexperiencehowshetasted

beforeshewas trulyreadyforme—forexample,whenIcameover lateandsurprisedher inhersleepwithmymouthonher—andIknewhowdifferentlyshetastedafterwe’dteasedeachotherforwhatfeltlikeaneternity.This,onherfingers,wasfullarousal,and itsentmyheadspinning.Howlonghadshebeen thinkingof this?Allday?Since I left thismorning?But shedidn’t letme lingerover it too long,returningherhandquicklytotheunseenspacebetweenherlegs.

Iwatchedherheadmove,herlipsslideovermylength,andtriedtoletitcalmme.ButevenwhenhermouthwasonmelikethisorIwasburiedinsideher,I’dalwayswantmore.Itwasimpossibletohavehereverywayatonce,butitneverstoppedmefromimaginingit:awhirlwindofpositionsandsoundsandmyhandsinherhairandonherhips,myfingersinhermouthandyetalsobetweenherlegsandpullingonthebackofherthighs.

WhenIranmyhandsintoherhairsheknewIwantedfaster,andwhenmyhipsstartedtojerksheknewnottotease,notevenalittle.Atleast,notsinceshehadameetinganyminute.

InasuddenflashI rememberedthatmyofficewasunlocked;Chloehadcomeinhere thinkingwe’ddiscusswork.Theouterofficewasclosedbutnotlocked,either.

“Oh, shit,” I groaned, because somehow the idea that we could be caughtmade it somuch hotter.“Chloe—”Withoutmorewarning,myorgasmbarreleddownmyspine,sharpandwarm,andsointenseitmademylegsshakeandmyfistscurltightlyinherhair.Shearchedagainstthepull,herarmjerkingasshetouchedherself,causingthesoundsofherownpleasuretocomeoutmuffledaroundme.

Lookingdown,Irealizedshewaswatchingmyreaction...ofcourseshewas.Hereyeswerewide,butsomehowsoft,andshelookedfascinated.I’msureherexpressionwasexactlyhowminewaseverytimeI’dseenhercomeapartundermytouch.Afterapausetocatchmybreath,Ipulledoutfromhermouthandkneeledonthefloorfacingher,reachingtocuponeofmyhandsovertheoneshehadbetweenherlegs.Sheshiftedalittle,lettingmyfingerstakeover.Islidtwooftheminside,pushinganddeep,andshealmosttoppledbackward,herbodyclampingdownaroundme.Steadyingherwithmyotherhandonherhip,Ipressedakisstoherlips,hummingatthewaytheywerealittlered,alittleswollen.

“I’mreallyclose,”shesaid,slippingherfreehandaroundmyneckforsupport.“Ilikehowyouthinkyouneedtotellmethat.”Ikeptwaitingformytouchtoseemoverlyfamiliar,ormytechniquetogrowtired,buteachtimeshe

feltthesweepandpressofmythumbagainstherclititseemedmoreintensethanthetimebefore.“Another,”shemanagedinatightvoice.“Please,Iwant...”Sheneverfinishedherthought.Shedidn’tneedto.Ipumpedthreefingersintoherandwatchedasher

headfellback,herlipsparted,andthequiet,huskysoundofhertrying-to-be-quietorgasmracedthroughher.

Forafewseconds,sheletmeholdherup,breatheinthescentofherhair,andpretendthatweweresomewhereelse,maybemylivingroomorherbedroom,certainlynotonthefloorofmyunlockedoffice.

SeemingtorememberthisatthesametimeIdid,Chloepulledupherpantiesandslidherskirtbackdownherthighsbeforelettingmetakeherhandtohelpherstand.Asusual,Iwasstruckbythequietallaroundus,andwonderedifwewereeverascontrolledandsneakyaswethoughtwewere.

Shelookedaround,alittledazed,andthentossedmealazygrin.“Thiswillmakeitevenhardertostayawakeinmymeeting.”

“Notsorry,”Imurmured,bendingdowntokissherneck.WhenIstraightened,sheturnedandwalkedintomywashroom,pushingthesleevesofhersweaterup

herforearmssoshecouldcleanherhands.Isteppedclose,pressingmyfronttoherback,andmovedmyhandsunderthewaterwithhers.Soapslidbetweenourfingersandsheleanedherheadbackagainstmychest.IwantedtospendanhourwashingherscentfromourfingersjustsoIcouldstandthisclose.

“Arewestayingatyourplacetonight?”Iasked.Itwasalwaysahardchoice.Mybedwasbetterforplay,butherkitchenwasbetterstocked.

Sheturnedoffthewaterandreachedtodryherhandsonmytowel.“Yourplace.Ihavetodolaundry.”“Don’teverletmehearyousayromanceisdead.”Itookmyturnwiththetowelandthenbenttokiss

her.Shekepthermouthclosed,eyesopen,andIpulledbackalittle.“Bennett?”“Mmm?”

“Ido,youknow.”“Youdowhat?”“Loveyou.MaybeIdon’ttellyouenough.Maybethat’swhyyouusedthebatsignal.”I smiled,myheart squeezing tightlybeneathmy ribs. “Iknowyoudo.And that isn’twhy I texted. I

textedbecauseIdon’tgetenoughofyourexclusiveattentionlatelyandI’magreedybastard.Hasn’tmymotherwarnedyouthatI’veneverbeengoodatsharing?”

“AfterwemovetoNewYork,thingswillquietdownandwe’llhavemoretime.”“InNewYork?Doubtful,”Isaid.“Andevenifthingsdosettledown,wouldn’titbenicetogetaway

foralittlebitbeforeallthatanyway?”“When?”sheasked,andlookedaroundasifherpackedcalendarpermeatedeverysurface.“Therewon’teverbeaperfecttime.Andwhenwemoveoffices,itwillbeevencrazierforawhile.”Laughing,sheshookherhead.“Well,Ican’tthinkofaworsetime.Maybelatesummer?”Withaquick

kiss,sheturnedandgrabbedherphonefrommydesk,eyeswideningwhenshesawthetime.“Ihavetogo,”shesaid,kissingmeoncemorebeforeleavingmyoffice.

Andthetopicwasdismissed.Butthewordvacationstayedinmymind.

Three

I’dhadbigplansfortonight:makedinner,eatdinnertogether,finallydecidewhichapartmentweweregoingtorent inNewYork,discusswhattokeepfrombothhisplaceandmine, figureoutwheninthehellwe’dfindtimetopackitallinthefirstplace.

Oh,andspendtheremainingeighthoursrelearningeveryinchofmyBeautifulBastard’sbody.Twice.

But that itinerarywasbeforehe’dwalked through thedoorofhishouse to findmecookingdinnerinhiskitchen.Beforehe’dtossedhisjacketandkeystothecouchandpracticallysprintedacrosstheroom.Beforehepulledmebackagainsthimandsuckedattheskinbelowmyearasifhehadn’ttastedmeinweeks.

Needlesstosay,theplanhadbeendownsizeddramatically.One:dinner.Two:naked.Evenso,Bennettseemedinclinedtoskipsteps.“We’renevergoingtoeatatthisrate,”Isaid,tiltingmyheadbackashekissedalongmyneck.

His warm breath curled over my skin and the knife I’d been holding clattered to the cuttingboard.

“And?”hewhispered,pressinghishipstomyassbeforeturningmetofacehim.Thecabinetswerehardagainstmyback.Bennettwasharderagainstmyfront.Hebentdown,

toweringovermewithoutthebenefitofmyshoes,andbrushedhislipsovermythroat.“And...”Imumbled.“Foodisoverrated.”Helaughedsoftly,handsskimmingmysidestorestatmyhips.“Exactly.AndGod,itfeelslike

Ihaven’ttouchedyouinweeks.”“This afternoon,” I corrected, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “It was this

afternoon,youknow—whenIsuckedyouoffatyourdesk?”“Oh, yes. I seem to remember something like that. It’s a little hazy, though. Perhaps you

couldrefreshmymemory...tongue,cock...”“Nicemouth,Ryan.Doesyourmotherknowyou’resuchapig?”Hebarkedout a laugh.“If theway she lookedatus afterwe fucked in thecoatroomatmy

cousin’sweddinginFebruaryisanyindication,thenyes.”“Ihadn’tseenyouintwoweeks!”Isaid,feelingmycheekswarm.“Don’tlooksosmug,you

ass.”“But I’m your ass,”he said, andpressed a lingeringkiss tomy lips. “Don’tpretend like you

don’tloveit.”Icouldn’targue.BennettmighthavespentmoretimeoutofChicagothan in itlately, but he was all mine.He never left any doubt about that. “And speaking of asses”—hereacheddownandsqueezedmine,hard—“thethingsI’mgoingtodotoyourstonight...”

I started to reply—toargueor say somethingsmart in return thatwouldputmeback in the

verbaldriver’sseat—butIcouldn’tthinkofanything.“Jesus.You’vebeenstunnedsilent,”hesaid,eyeswideinsurprise.“IfI’dknownthat’sallit’d

taketogetalittlepeaceandquiet,I’dhavebroughtitupagesago.”“I...um.”Iopenedandclosedmymouthafewtimesbutnothingcameout.Thiswasnew.

Whentheoventimercutthroughtheair,Iforcedmyselftopullaway,stillalittleoffbalance.Ipulled thebread fromtheovenanddrained thepasta, feelingBennettmoveupbehindme

again.Hehookedhischinovermyshoulder,wrappedhisarmsaroundmywaist.“Yousmellsogood,”hesaid.Hismouthwentbacktoworkonmyneck,ashishandsbegana

slowdescentdowntothehemofmyskirt.Iwasmorethanalittletemptedtolethimfinish.Instead,Inoddedtothecuttingboard.“Canyoufinishthesaladforme,please?”Hegroanedandloosenedhistie,gruntingsomethingunintelligibleashebeganworkingatthe

oppositecounter.Ribbons of garlic-scented steam curled up from the bowl as I tossed the pasta and sauce

together,tryingtoclearmyhead.Asusual,itwasimpossiblewhenhewasnearby.TherewasjustsomethingaboutBennettRyanthatseemedtosuckalltheairoutofaroom.

I’dbeenblindsidedbyhowhardI’dfallenforhim,andlatelyImissedhimsomuchwhenhewas gone. Sometimes I’d talk tomy emptybedroom. “Howwas your day?” I’d ask. “Mynewassistantishilarious,”I’dsay.Or:“Hasmyapartmentalwaysbeenthisquiet?”

Otherdays,whenI’dwornhisshirttosleepsomanytimesithadlosthissmell,I’dgoovertohisplace.I’dsitinthehugechairthatlookedoutoverthelake,andwonderwhathewasdoing.Wonder if itwaspossible forhim tomissmeevena fractionasmuchas Imissedhim. Jesus. Ineverusedtounderstandwomenwhoactedlikethiswhentheirboyfriendstraveled.Iusedtojustassumeitwasagoodopportunityforafullnight’ssleepandsomedowntime.

Somehow,Bennetthadmanaged toworkhisway intoeverypartofmy life.Hewas still thesamestubborn,drivenmanhe’dalwaysbeen,andIlovedthathehadn’tchangedwhohewasjustbecauseweweretogether.Hetreatedmeasanequal,andeventhoughIknewhelovedmemorethananything,henevercutmeanyslack.ForthatIlovedhimevenmore.

I carried our plates to the table and glanced back over my shoulder. Bennett was stillgrumblingtohimselfasheslicedatomato.

“Areyoustillcomplaining?”Iasked.“Ofcourse.”Hebroughtthesaladover,smackingmyassbeforepullingoutmychair.He poured us each a glass of wine before dropping into the seat across from me. Bennett

watchedmetakeasip,hiseyesmovingfrommine,tomylips,andbackupagain.Asweetsmilepulled at the corner of hismouth, but then he seemed to blink back into focus, rememberingsomething.“I’vebeenmeaningtoaskyou,how’sSara?”

SaraDillonhadgraduatedfromthesameMBAprogramthatIhad,buthadsinceleftRMGtoworkforanotherfirm.Shewasoneofmybestfriends,andBennetthadofferedhertheDirectorof Finance position in the new branch but she’d turned him down, not wanting to leave her

familyandthe lifeshehadinChicago.Hedidn’tblameher,ofcourse,butasthebigdaydrewcloserandwestillhadn’tfoundanyone,Iknewhewasbeginningtoworry.

Ishrugged,rememberingtheconversationI’dhadwithherearlierthatday.Sara’sdouchebagof a fiancéhadbeen photographed kissing anotherwoman, and it seemedSaramight really beseeingwhattherestofushadsuspectedforyears:Andywasacheatingdick.

“She’sokay,Iguess.Andystillclaimshewassetup.Theotherwoman’snamestillpopsupinthepapereveryweek.YouknowSara.She’snotgoingtoshowtheworldhowshefeels,butIcantellshe’scompletelyshatteredoverthis.”

Hehummed,considering.“Thinkshe’sfinallydone?Nomoretakinghimback?”“Whoknows?They’vebeentogethersinceshewastwenty-one.If shehasn’t lefthimbynow

thenmaybeshe’llstaywithhimforever.”“WishI’dgonewithmygutandknockedhimonhisassattheSmithHouseeventlastmonth.

Whatamiserablesleaze.”“I’vetriedtotalkherintocomingtoNewYorkbut...she’ssostubborn.”“Stubborn?Ican’tpossiblyseewhythetwoofyouarefriends,”hedeadpanned.Ithrewacherrytomatoathim.

Therestofthemealwasalltalkaboutwork,aboutgettingthenewofficeoffthegroundandallthepiecesthatstillneededtobeputintoplacebeforethatcouldhappen.We’dbegundiscussingwhetherhisfamilywouldbegoingbacktoNewYorkagainbeforethenewofficesopenedwhenIasked,“Whendidyourdadgetbackintown?”

Iwaitedamoment,butwhenBennettdidn’tanswer,Ilookedup,surprisedtoseehimpushinghisfoodaroundhisplate.

“Everythingokayoverthere,Ryan?”Afewsecondsofsilencepassedbeforehesaid,“Imissyouworkingforme.”Ifeltmyeyeswiden.“What?”“Iknow.Itdoesn’tmakeanysensetome,either.Wewereawfultoeachother,anditwasan

impossible situation.”Holycrap,whatanunderstatement.The fact thatwemanagedtosurviveworking in the same office together for ten months without bloodshed or some sort ofmanslaughterstaplerincidentstillsurprisedme.“But...,”hecontinued,lookingupatmefromacross the table,“I sawyoueveryday. Itwaspredictable.Consistent. Ipushedandyoupushedback.ItwasthemostfunI’veeverhadatajob.AndItookitforgranted.”

Isetmyglassdownandmethiseyes,feelinganoverwhelmingsurgeofaffectionforthisman.“That...makessense,”Isaid,searchingfortherightwords.“Idon’tthinkIappreciatedwhatitmeanttoseeyoueveryday,either.EvenifIdidwanttopoisonyouonnolessthantwenty-sevenseparateoccasions.”

“Ditto,”herepliedwithasmirk.“AndsometimesIfeelguiltyforhowmanytimesIthrewyououtthewindowinmyfantasies.ButImostcertainlyplanonmakingituptoyou.”Hepickeduphisglass,tookalongdrink.

“Doyounow?”“Yep.Ihavealist.”Iraisedaneyebrowinsilentquestion.“Well,firstI’mgoingtopeeloffthatskirt.”Hebenttoglanceunderthetable.“I’dhassleyou

forwearingthatlacystuffunderneathjusttotortureme,butwebothknowI’mintothatkindofthing.”

Iwatchedashestraightenedandleanedbackinhischair,handsclaspedbehindhishead.Theweight of his attention brought goose bumps to my skin. Anyone else would have beenintimidated—IcouldstillrememberatimewhenIwas—butrightnowallIfeltwasadrenaline,athrillthatshotthroughmychestandsettledwarmandheavyinmystomach.

“Andthatsweater,”hebegan,eyesonmychestnow.“I’dliketoripitopen,hearthesoundofthoselittlebuttonsastheypopoffandscatteracrossthefloor.”

Icrossedmylegs,swallowed.Hefollowedthemovement,asmileslowlyliftingatthecornersofhismouth.

“Thenmaybe I’d spread yououton this table.”He leanedover,made a showof testing itssturdiness.“Putyourlegsovermyshoulders,suckonyouuntilyou’rejustbeggingformycock.”

I tried to seemunaffected, tried tobreak fromhis stare. I couldn’t. I clearedmy throat,mymouthsuddenlydry.“Youcouldhavedonethatlastnight,”Isaid,teasinghim.

“No.LastnightweweretiredandIjustwantedtofeelyoucome.Tonight,Iwanttotakemytime,undressyou,kisseveryinchofthatbody—fuckyou.Watchyoufuckme.”

Wasitsuddenlygettingwarminhere?“Prettysureofyourself,aren’tyou?”Iasked.“Mostdefinitely.”“Andwhatmakes you think I don’t have a list ofmy own?” I stood, dessert forgotten as I

roundedthetabletostopinfrontofhim.Hiscockwasalreadystiff,strainingagainsttheflyofhispants.He followedmygaze and smirkedup atme, pupils dark and sowide theydrowned thehazelsurroundingthem.

I wanted to rip off my clothes and feel the heat of that stare on my skin, wake up in themorning exhausted and sore andwith thememoryof his fingertips still pressing intomybody.Howdidhemakemefeelthiswaywithjustalookandafewdirtywords?

BennettshiftedinhischairandIsteppedbetweenhislegs,reachingouttopushthehair—thateternallyfreshlyfuckedhair—fromhisforehead.ThesoftstrandsslippedbetweenmyfingersandItilted his head back, bringing his eyes tomine. I’vemissed you somuch, I wanted to say. Stay.Don’tgosofaraway.Iloveyou.

Thewordsstuckinmythroatandnothingmorethana“Hi”slippedoutinstead.

Bennetttiltedhishead,smilewideningashelookedupatme.“Hi.”Warmhandsgrippedmyhips,pulledmecloser.LaughtercurledaroundthesinglewordandIknewhecouldreadmelikeabook,saweverythoughtasclearlyasifitwerewrittenacrossmyforeheadinink.It’snotthatIwasn’t comfortable saying I loved him, it’s just that itwas so new. I’d never said it to anyonebeforehim,andsometimesitfeltscary,likeopeningupmychestandhandinghimmyheart.

Hishandmoveduptorestonmybreast, thumbbrushingalongtheunderside.“Ican’thelpbutwonderwhat’sunderthisprettylittlesweater,”hesaid.

Isuckedinabreath,feltmynippleshardenbeneaththethincashmere.Heslippedonebuttonthrough the hole, and then another, until the cardigan fell open and his eyesmoved overmybarely-therebra.Hehummedinappreciation.“Thisisnew.”

“Andexpensive.Don’truinit,”Iwarned.Hecouldn’tcontainhissmugsmile.“Iwouldnever.”“Youboughtmeafour-hundred-dollarslipandthenusedittotiemetoyourbed,Bennett.”Helaughed,pushingthesweaterfrommyshoulders,takinghistimetounwrapmelikeagift.

Longfingersmovedtothewaistofmyskirtandthesoftsoundofthezipperfilledtheroom.Hedidashe’dpromised,purposefullypeelingthewool frommyhipsanddownmy legs topoolatmyfeet,leavingmeinonlymylacebraandratherskimpypanties.

Theairconditionerswitchedonandalowwhircarriedthroughtheapartment,aburstofcoolairrushingalongmyexposedskin.Bennettpulledmedownontohislap,mylegsoneithersideofhiships.Theroughfabricofhispantsbrushedagainstthebacksofmybarethighs,mypracticallynakedass.Ishouldhavefeltvulnerablelikethis—withmeinsolittleandhimfullydressed—butIrelished it. Itwassomuch likeour firstnight togetherathishome,aftermypresentation,afterwe’dbothadmittedwedidn’twanttobewithouttheotherandheletmetiehimupsoIcouldhavethenervetohearhowmuchI’dhurthim.

AndthenIrealizedthispositionwasintentional.Isuspectedhewasthinkingaboutthatexactnight,too.Hiseyesshonewithsuchhunger,suchadoration,thatIcouldn’thelpbutfeelasenseofpower,liketherewasn’tanythingthismanwouldn’tdoifIjustasked.

I reached for the buttons of his shirt, wanting him naked and over me, behind me—everywhere.Iwantedtotastehim,scratchmarksintohisskin,andconnectthemwithmyfingers,mylipsandmyteeth.Iwantedtostretchhimoutonthetableandfuckhimuntilanythoughtofeitherofuseverleavingthisroomwasadistantmemory.

Somewhere in the apartment, a phone rang. We froze, neither of us saying anything, bothwaiting, hoping it had been a fluke and that nothing but silence would follow. But the shrillringtone—one I’d become all too familiar with—filled the air again. Work. The emergencyringtone. And not the regular emergency one—the emergency-emergency one. Bennett swore,restinghisforeheadagainstmychest.Myheartpoundedbeneathmyribsandmybreathsfelttooquick,tooloud.

“Fuck,I’msorry,”hesaidwhenitcontinuedtoring.“Ihaveto—”

“Iknow.”Istood,usingthebackofthechairtosupportmyshakylegs.Bennett scrubbed his hands over his face before he stood and crossed the room, finding his

phonewherehe’dslunghisjacketoverthebackofthecouch.“Yeah,”hesaid,andthenlistened.I bent formy sweater and slipped it overmy shoulders, foundmy skirt andpulled it upmy

hips.Icarriedthedishesintothekitchenwhilehetalked.Iwastryingtogivehimsomesenseofprivacybutgrewconcernedashisvoicecontinuedtorise.

“Whatdoyoumeantheycan’tfindit?”heshouted.Ileanedagainstthedoorwayandwatchedashepacedbackand forth in frontof thewidewallofwindows.“This ishappening tomorrowand someone’s misplaced the fucking master file? Can’t someone else handle this?” A pauseensued in which I swear I actually watched Bennett’s blood pressure rise. “Are you kidding?”Another pause. Bennett closed his eyes tight and took a deep breath. “Fine. I’ll be there intwenty.”

Whenheendedthecall,ittookamomentforhimtolookatme.“It’sokay,”Isaid.“It’snot.”Hewasright.Itwasn’tokay.Itsucked.“Can’tsomeoneelsehandleit?”“Who? I can’t trust something this important to those incompetent assholes. The Timbk2

accountlaunchestomorrowandthemarketingteamcan’tfindthefilewiththefinancialspecs—”Hestoppedandshookhishead,reachedforhisjacket.“God,weneedsomeoneinNewYorkwhoknowswhatthefuckthey’redoing.I’msosorry,Chlo.”

Bennettknewhowmuchweneededtonight,buthealsohada jobtodo.Iknewthisbetterthananyone.

“Go,”Isaid,closingthedistancebetweenus.“I’llberightherewhenyou’redone.”Ihandedhimhiskeysandstooduponmytoestokisshim.

“Inmybed?”Inodded.“Wearmyshirt.”“Onlyyourshirt.”“Iloveyou.”Igrinned.“Iknow.Nowgosavetheworld.”

FOUR

Youhavegottobefuckingkiddingme.IturnedthekeyintheignitionandrevvedtheenginehardenoughfortheRPMstohitred.Iwantedto

peeloutandteardownthestreet,leavingthesignofmyfrustrationasblacktiremarksontheroad.Iwastired.FuckwasItired,andIhatedtohavetocleanupotherpeople’smessesatwork.I’dbeen

workingtwelve-, fifteen-,hell,eveneighteen-hourdaysformonths,andtheonenightIwasable toputasidetimewithChloeathome,Iwascalledin.

Ipausedasthewordseemedtobouncearoundinsideofmyskull:home.Whetherwewereatmyplaceorhers,outwithfriends,orinthattinylittleshitholeChineserestaurant

shelikedsomuch,itfeltlikehometome.Thestrangestpartwasthatthehousethathadcostmeafortunehadneverfeltlikehomeuntilshespenttimethere.Washerhomealsowithme?

We hadn’t even had time to pick where we would live in New York. We had identified the newlocation for RMG, made a map of where each of our offices would be, drawn up blueprints of therenovationsandhiredadesigner...butChloeandIdidn’thaveanapartmenttogoto.

Whichwasthegreatestsignthatoldhabitsdiehard,becauseinrealitymyrelationshipwithherhadcompletelyalteredmyrelationshiptomyjob.OnlyayearagoI’dbeencommittedtoonething:mycareer.Now,thethingthatmatteredmosttomewasChloe,andeverytimemycareergotinthewayofbeingwithher it burnedme up inside. I don’t even know specificallywhen that had happened, but I suspect thechangehadbeeneffectedlongbeforeIwouldhaveeveradmittedit.MaybeitwasthenightJoelcametomyparents’housefordinner.Ormaybeitwasthenextday,whenIfellonmykneesinfrontofherandapologizedtheonlywayIknewhow.Mostlikelyitwasevenearlierthanallofthat,onthefirstnightIkissedherroughlyintheconferenceroom,inmydarkest,weakestmoment.ThankGodI’dbeensuchanidiot.

Iglanceddownattheclockonmydashboardandthedate,backlitinred,hitmelikeafisttothechest:May5.Exactlyoneyearago,I’dwatchedChloewalkofftheplanefromSanDiego,hershoulderssetinhurtandangerathowI’dessentiallythrownherunderthebusaftershe’dcoveredformewithaclient.Thenextdayshe’dresigned;she’dleftme.Iblinked,tryingtoclearthememoryfrommymind.Shecameback,Iremindedmyself.We’dworkeditoutinthepastelevenmonths,anddespiteallofmyfrustrationwithmyworkschedule,I’dneverbeenhappier.ShewastheonlywomanI’deverwant.

Ithoughtbacktomypreviousbreakup,withSylviealmosttwoyearsagonow.Ourrelationshipstartedthewayoneclimbsonanescalator:withasinglestepandthenmovingwithouteffortalongasinglepath.Westartedoutfriendlyandeasilyslippedintophysicalintimacy.Thesituationworkedperfectlyformebecausesheprovidedcompanionshipandsex,andshe’dneveraskedformorethanIoffered.Whenwebrokeup,sheadmittedsheknewIwouldn’tgivehermore,andforawhilethesexandquasi-intimacyhadbeenenough.Until,forher,theyweren’tanymore.

Afteralongembraceandonefinalkiss,I’dlethergo.I’dgonestraighttomyfavoriterestaurantforaquietdinneralone,andthenheadedtobedearly,whereIslepttheentirenightwithoutwakingonce.Nodrama.Noheartbreak.ItendedandIclosedthedooronthatpartofmylife,completelyreadytomoveon.Threemonthslater,IwasbackinChicago.

Itwascomical to compare that to the reaction I’dhad to losingChloe. I’d essentially turned intoafilthy hobo, not eating, not showering, and surviving entirely on scotch and self-pity. I rememberedclutchingtothetinydetailsSarawouldsharewithmeaboutChloe—howshewasdoing,howshelooked—andtryingtodeterminefromthesetidbitswhethershemissedmeandcouldpossiblybeasmiserableasIwas.

The dayChloe returned toRMGwas, coincidentally, Sara’s last day at the firm.Althoughwe hadmadeup,ChloehadinsistedthatshesleepatherplaceandIsleepatminesothatwewouldactuallygetsomerest.Afterachaoticmorning,IwalkedintothebreakroomtofindChloesnackingonasmallpackofalmonds,readingsomemarketingreports.Sarawasheatingupleftoversinthetinymicrowave,havingrefusedourentreatiestogiveherabigsendofflunch.Icameintopourmyselfacupofcoffee,andthethreeofusstoodtogetherinloadedsilenceforwhatfeltlikefifteenminutes.

I’dfinallybrokenit.“Sara,”Isaid,andmyvoicefelttooloudinthesilentroom.Hereyesturnedtome,wideandclear.

“ThankyouforcomingtomethatfirstdayChloewasgone.Thankyouforgivingmewhateverupdatesyoucould.Forthat,andotherreasons,I’msorrytoseeyougo.”Sheshrugged,smoothingherbangstothesideandgivingmeasmallsmile.“I’mjustgladtosee

youtwotogetheragain.Thingshavebeenwaytooquietaroundhere.AndbyquietImeanboring.AndbyboringImeannobodyscreamingorcallingeachotherahatefulshrew.”Shecoughedandtookanalmostcomicallyloudslurpfromherdrink.Chloegroaned.“Nochanceofthatanymore,Iassureyou.”Shepoppedanalmondintohermouth.

“Hemaynotbemybossanymore,buthe’sstillmostdefinitelyascreamer.”Laughing,Istoleapeekatherassasshestoodandbentdowntopullabottleofwateroutofthe

bottomshelfofthefridge.“Still,” I said, turning back to Sara. “I appreciate that you kept me up to date. I would have

probablylostmymindotherwise.”Sara’seyessoftenedand,asshefidgeted,Icouldtellshewasalittleuncomfortableinthefaceof

myraredisplayofemotion.“LikeIsaid,I’mgladitworkedout.Thesethingsareworthfightingfor.”SheliftedherchinandgaveChloeonelastsmilebeforeleavingtheroom.

ThatgiddinessI’dfeltafterChloe’sreturnmadeiteasytoignorethewhispersthatfollowedusthroughthehallsofRyanMediaGroup.Ihadmyofficeandshehadhersnow,andwewereeachdeterminedtoprovetoourselvesasmuchasanyoneelsethatwecoulddothis.

We’dlastedalmostanhourapart.“Imissedyou,”shesaid,slipping intomyofficeandclosing thedoorbehindher.“Doyou think

they’llgivememyoldofficeback?”

“No.MuchasIliketheidea,atthispointitwouldbeblatantlyinappropriate.”“Iwasonlyhalfserious.”Sherolledhereyesandthenpaused,lookingaround.Icouldalmostsee

eachmemorycomingbacktoher:whenshe’dspreadherlegsacrossthedeskfromme,whenshe’dletmemakehercomewithmyfingerstodistractherfromherworries,and,Iimagine,eachtimewe’dsattogetherinthisoffice,notsayingeverythingwecouldhavesaidsomuchsooner.“Iloveyou,”Isaid.“I’velovedyouforalongtime.”She blinked up and then moved close, stretching to kiss me. And then she pulled me into the

bathroomandbeggedmetomakelovetoheragainstthewall,atnoononaMonday.AsIpulledintotheparkingdeckattheofficesandturnedintomyspot,IrememberedSara’swords.

Shuttingoffthecar,Istaredattheconcretewallinfrontofme.Thesethingsareworthfightingfor.SarahadtakenherownadvicehometoChicago’smostdeplorablewomanizer.She’dlookedoutformewhensheknewIwasbrokenandlostwithoutChloe.Incontrast,I’dletSaracontinueonwithamanIknewwasunfaithful,allbecauseIfeltitwasn’tmyplacetointerfere.WherewouldIbeifSarahaddonethesame?

Contemplatingwhat that said aboutme, I climbed from the car and into themain lobby. The nightsecurityguardwaved,thenwentbacktohisnewspaperasIheadedtotheelevators.ThebuildingwassoemptyIcouldheareverycreakandclickofthemachinearoundme.Wheelswhirredalongcablesandthecargaveaquietthudasitsettledontheeighteenthfloor.

Iknewnooneelsewashere.Theteamwasscramblingtofindthenewestversionofthefile,andintheir panic were probably scouring their local document files on their laptops. I doubted anyone hadthoughttocomeinandchecktheworkserver.

IntheendI’dhadtoleaveChloeforwhatamountedtotwenty-threeminutesofwork,whicheffectivelyguaranteed my mood tomorrow would be thunderous. I hated having to do someone else’s job. Thecontracthadbeenmislabeledand—exactlyasIhadsuspected—putintothewrongfolderontheserver.Infact,ahardcopywassittingfaceuponmydesk,wheresomeoneactuallycompetentmighthavenoticeditandsparedmethistriptotheoffice.IforwardedthefiletooneofmyexecutivesinMarketingandmadeseveralcopiesofthedocumentitself,highlightingthepartiesonthefirstpageandpointedlyplacingoneonthedeskofeverypersoninvolvedintheaccount,beforefinallyleavingtheoffice.Itwas, inaway,kindofdickishofme tobesoprecise.But then, thiswaswhat theyearnedwhen theypulledmeawayfromChloe.

Iknewthesesmallinconveniencesgotmetooworkedup,butitwasthistypeofdetailthatdefinedateam.Which was exactly why I needed someone on top of their game for NewYork. I groaned as Idropped back into my car and started the engine, knowing this was just one more thing I needed toaccomplishinthenextmonth.

Inmycurrentmood,Iwas innostate toreturn toChloe. I’donlybesurlyandirritable . . .andnotreallyinthefunway.

God,Ijustwantedtobewithher.Whydidithavetobesofuckingdifficult?IhadsofewhourswithChloeasitwas,andIdidn’twanttowastethembecauseIwasstressedaboutworkandapartmenthuntingandfindingsomeonewhocouldjustdotheirfuckingjobwithoutbeingbabysat.We’dcomplainedabout

notseeingenoughofeachother,ofworking toohard,whydidn’twe just . . . fix it?Goaway?IknewChloethoughtthetimingwasallwrong,butwhenwoulditeverberight?Nobodywasgoingtojusthandit to us and sincewhen had I ever been the type of personwhowaited for something to come alonganyway?Fuckthat.Fixit.“Getyourshittogether,Ben.”Myvoicerangoutinthequietinteriorofmycar,andafterabriefglace

totheclocktomakesureIwasn’tcallingtoolate,Ireachedformyphone,scrollingtothecorrectnumberbeforehittingdial.IpulledoutoftheparkingspotandturnedontoMichiganAvenue.

Afteraboutsixrings,Max’svoiceboomedfromthecarspeakers.“Oi,Ben!”Ismiled,acceleratingawayfromworkandheadedtowardoneofthemostfamiliarplacesonearthto

me.“Max,howareyou?”“Good,mate.Verybloodygood.What’sthisrumorIhearofyoulotmovingouttothebigcity?”Inodded,answering,“We’llbethereinalittleoveramonth.GettingsetupatFifthandFiftieth.”“Closeby.Perfect.We’llhavetogettogetherwhenyougettotown...”Hetrailedoff.“Definitely,definitely.”Ihesitated,knowingMaxwasprobablywonderingwhyIwascallinghimat

eleventhirtyatnightonaTuesday.“Look,Max,Ihaveabitofafavortoask.”“Let’shaveit.”“I’dliketotakemygirlfriendawayforabit,and—”“Girlfriend?”Hislaughterfilledmycar.Ilaughed,too.IwasfairlycertainI’dneverintroducedanyonetoMaxthatway.“Chloe,yes.Weboth

workforRMGandhavebeenslammedlatelywiththePapadakiscampaign.It’srollingquitenicelynow,andwemaybehavesomewiggle roombeforewemove . . .” Ihesitated, feeling thewordsbubbleupinsideme.“WouldIbeinsanetohiresomeonetopackupourlifehere,findusaplaceinNewYork,andjust...leaveforafewweeks?Justgetthehelloutoftown?”

“Thatdoesn’tsoundmental,Ben.Itsoundslikethebestwaytokeepyourselfsorted.”“I think so, too. And I know it’s impulsive, but I was thinking of taking Chloe to France. I was

wonderingifyoustillhadthehouseinMarseille,andifso,whetherwecouldrentitforafewweeks.”Maxwaslaughingquietly.“Fuckyeah,it’sstillmine.Butforgetrentingit—justhaveatit.I’llsendyou

thedirectionsstraightaway.I’llhaveInèsgobyandcleanupforyou.TheplacehasbeenemptysinceIwasthereoverthewinterholidays.”Hepaused.“Whenwereyouthinkingofheadingout?”

Thevisethatseemedtogripmychestloosenedimmeasurablyastheplanbegantosolidifyinmyhead.“Thisweekend?”

“Shityeah,I’llgetonit.Sendmeyourflightdetailswhenyouhavethem.I’llcallherinthemorningandmakesureshe’stheretogiveyouthekeys.”

“Thisisfantastic.Thankyou,Max.Ioweyou.”Icouldpracticallyhearhisslygrinwhenhesaid,“I’llrememberthat.”

Feelingrelaxedforthefirsttimeinages,IturnedupthemusicandletmyselfimaginegettingonaplanewithChloe,nothingaheadofusbutsunshine,longmorningsspentnakedinbed,andsomeofthebestfoodandwinetheworldhadeverconjuredup.ButIhadonemorestoptomake.Iknewitwaslatetogotomyparents’,butIhadnochoice.Mymind

wasspinningwithplans,andIcouldn’theadtobeduntileverylastdetailhadbeensortedout.Onthetwenty-minutedrivetotheirhouse,Icalledandleftamessageformytravelagent.ThenIlefta

message onmybrotherHenry’swork voicemail that Iwas leaving for threeweeks. I didn’t even letmyselfimaginehisreaction.Wehadanewoffice,wehadeverythingatworksorted,andwecouldleavethebusinessofpackinguptosomeoneelse.IleftamessageforeachofmyseniormanagerslettingthemknowtheplanandwhatIexpectedeachofthemtohandleinmyabsence.AndthenIrolleddownallofthewindowsandletthecoolnightairwhiparoundme,takingallofmystresswithit.

Pullingupinfrontofmyparents’house,IlaughedthinkingbackonthefirsttimeChloeandIhadcomeheretogetherasacouple.

Itwasthreedaysafterherpresentationtothescholarshipboard.Twoofthosedayswe’dscarcelyleftmyhomeormybed.Butaftertheconstantcallsandtextsfrommyfamilyaskingustocomeover,formetoletthemsharesometimewithChloe,weagreedtoadinneratmyparents’house.Everyonehadmissedher.Wetalkedonthedrive,laughingandteasing,myfreehandentwinedwithoneofhers.Absently,she

rantheindexfingerofherotherhandinsmallcirclesoverthetopofmywrist,asifreassuringherselfthatitwasreal,thatIwasreal,thatwewere.Wehadn’tfacedtheworldoutsideyet,otherthanthatnightoutwithhergirlfriendsfollowingherpresentation.Thetransitionwouldnodoubtbeatleastalittleawkward.But Iwouldneverhave expectedChloe tobeanxiousaboutanyof it. She’dalwaysfacedeverychallengewithherownbrandofbullheadedfearlessness.ItwasonlywhenwestoodontheporchandIreachedtoopentheirfrontdoorthatIrealizedher

handinsideminewasshaking.“What’swrong?”Ipulledmyhandback,turnedhertofaceme.Sherolledhershoulders.“Nothing.I’mgood.”“Unconvincing.”Shethrewmeanannoyedlook.“I’mfine.Justopenthedoor.”“Holyshit,”Isaidonanexhale,stunned.“ChloeMillsisactuallynervous.”This timeshe turned toglareupatme fully.“Youspotted that?Christ,you’rebrilliant.Someone

shouldmakeyouaCOOandgiveyouabigfancyoffice.”Shereachedtoopenthedoorherself.Istoppedherhandfromturningtheknobandagrinspreadacrossmyface.“Chloe?”“Ijusthaven’tseenthemsincebefore...youknow.Andtheysawyouwhenyouwereall...”She

made a gesture aroundme,which I gatheredwasmeant to indicate“whenBennettwas a completedisaster,afterChloelefthim.”“Just...let’snotmakethisathing.I’mfine,”shewenton.

“I’mjustenjoyingtheraresightingofajitteryChloe.Givemeasecond,letmesavorthis.”“Fuckoff.”“Fuckoff?”Isteppedin frontofher,moveduntilherbodypressedintomine.“Areyoutryingto

seduceme,MissMills?”Finally,shelaughed,hershoulderssurrenderingtheirtensedetermination.“Ijustdon’twantitto

be—”The front door flew open, and Henry took a step forward, enveloping Chloe in a massive hug.

“Theresheis!”Chloe peeked up at me over my brother’s shoulder and laughed. “—awkward,” she finished,

wrappingherarmsaroundhim.Justinsidethedoorwaystoodmyparents,wearingthebiggestshit-eatinggrinsI’deverseen.My

mom’seyesweresuspiciouslymisty.“It’sbeenwaytoolong,”Henrysaid,releasingmygirlfriendandlookingrightatme.Groaning inwardly, I registered that thisentirenightcouldveryeasily turn intoagiant recapof

whatatrialthiswholethinghadbeenforChloe,ofhowimpossibleI’dbeentoworkwith;thedetailsofMissMills’schallengingattitudewouldbewhitewashedforhistory.Itwasagoodthingshelookedsodamnfitinherlittleblackdress.I’dneedthedistraction.I’dcalledDadthemorningofChloe’spresentation,tellinghimI’dplannedtoattendandconvince

her topresent thePapadakisslides. I toldhim, too, that Iwasgoing toaskher to takemeback.Asusual,Dadhadbeensupportive,butguarded,tellingmethatnomatterwhatChloesaid,hewasproudofmeforgoingafterwhatIwanted.WhatIwantednowsteppedintothehouseandhuggedmymother,andmyfather,beforelookingup

atme.“Idon’tknowwhatIwasworriedabout,”shewhispered.“Wereyounervous?”Momasked,eyeswide.“Ijustleftsoabruptly.I’vefeltbadaboutthat,andaboutnotseeingeitherofyouformonths...”

Chloetrailedoff.“No,no,no,no—youhadtoputupwithBennett,”Henrysaid,ignoringmyirritatedsigh.“Trustus,

wegetit.”“Comeon,”Igroaned,pullingherback.“Wedon’tneedtomakethisathing.”“Ijustknew,”Momwhispered,puttingherhandsonChloe’sface.“Iknew.”“What the hell,Mom?” I stepped closer, hugging her first and giving her a scowl second. “You

‘knew’thisevenwhenyousetherupwithJoel?”“Ithinkthephraseis‘shitorgetoffthepot,’ ”Henryoffered.“ThatisabsolutelynotthephraseIwouldhaveused,HenryRyan.”Momthrewhimalookandthen

wrappedherarmaroundChloe,urgingherdownthehall.Sheturnedtotalktomeoverhershoulder.“Ifiguredifyoudidn’tseewhatwasrightinfrontofyourface,maybeanothermandeservedashot.”“PoorJoelneverhadashot,”Dadmumbled,surprisingallofusandapparentlyevenhimself.He

lookedup,andthenlaughed.“Someonehadtosayit.”

Climbingoutofthecar,Ismiledatthememoryoftherestofthatevening:thetenminutesduringwhichwe’dalldissolved intohystericsoverour sharedexperiencesofgetting foodpoisoningat inopportunetimes,theunbelievablecrèmebrûléemymotherhadservedafterdinner,and,muchlater,thewayChloeandIhadbarelymadeitbackinsidemyhousebeforefallingintoatangleoflimbsandsweatonmylivingroomfloor.

Iturnedtheknobonmyparents’frontdoor,knowingmydadwouldstillbeup,buthopingnottowakemymother.TheknobcreakedandIeaseditopenwithfamiliarcare,liftingitslightlywhereIknewthewoodswelledalittleatthethreshold.

But, tomysurprise,Momgreetedmein theentryway,wearingheroldpurplerobeandholding twocupsoftea.

“Idon’tknowwhy,”shesaid,extendingonecuptome,“butIwasprettysureyouweregoingtoturnupheretonight.”

“Mother’sintuition?”Iasked,takingthecupandbendingtokisshercheek.Ilingeredthere,hopingIcouldkeepmyemotionsinchecktonight.

“Somethinglikethat.”TearsfilledhereyesandsheturnedawaybeforeIcouldsaysomethingaboutthem.“Comeon,Iknowwhyyou’rehere.I’vegotitdowninthekitchen.”

Five

“Andyou’resurewe’llgetthesignaturesontime?”Iaskedmyassistant,whocheckedherwatchandjottedsomethingdowninhernotepad.

“Yes.Aaron’sonhiswayovertherenow.Weshouldhavethembackbylunch.”“Good,”Isaid,closingthefilesandhandingthemback.“We’llgiveitafinallookbeforethe

meetingand ifeverythinggoes—”Thedoortomyouterofficeopened,andaverydetermined-lookingBennettwalkedinside.Myassistant letoutaterrifiedsqueakandIwavedforhertogo.Shepracticallysprintedoutofthere.

Longlegscarriedhimacrosstheroominonlyafewstrides,andhestoppedjustontheothersideofmydesk,slappingtwocrispwhiteenvelopesdownonastackofmarketingreports.

I looked down to the envelopes and then back up to him. “Something about this is sofamiliar,”Isaid.“Whichoneofusisgoingtoslamthedoorandstormouttothestairwell?”

Herolledhiseyes.“Justopenthem.”“Well,goodmorningtoyou,too,Mr.Ryan.”“Chloe,don’tbeapainintheass.”“You’dratherbeapaininmine?”His eyes softenedandhe leanedovermydesk tokissme.He’dgottenhome late lastnight,

longafterI’dfallenasleep.I’dwokentothesoundofmyalarmclocktofindhiswarmandverynaked body pressed againstmine. I deserved some kind of amedal formanaging to leave thatbed.

“Goodmorning,MissMills,”hesaidsoftly.“Nowopenthedamnenvelopes.”“Ifyouinsist.Butdon’tsayIdidn’twarnyou.Slammingthingsdownondeskshasneverreally

endedwellforus.Well,forme.Maybeyoucouldrectifythat...”“Chloe.”“Fine, fine.” I lifted the flap on the onewithmy name and pulled a printed sheet of paper

frominside.“ORDtoCDG,”Iread.“ChicagotoFrance.”Ilookedupathim.“They’resendingmesomewhere?”

Bennettbeamed,andfrankly,helookedsogoodwhiledoingitIwasgladIwassittingdown.“France.Marseille,tobeexact.Thesecondticketisbehindthatone.”

Planetickets,oneenvelopeforeachofus.ScheduledtoleaveFriday.ItwasTuesdayalready.“I...Idon’tunderstand.We’regoingtoFrance?Thisisn’taboutlastnight,isit?Becausewe

havebusylives,Bennett.Thesekindsofthingswillalwayshappen.IpromiseIwasn’tupset.”Heroundedthedeskandkneeledinfrontofme.“No.Thisisn’taboutlastnight.It’sabouta

lot of nights. This is about me putting what’s important first. And this,” he said, motioningbetweenus.“Thisiswhat’simportant.Wehardlyseeeachotheranymore,Chloe,andthat’snotgoingtochangeafterthemove.Iloveyou.Imissyou.”

“Imissyou, too.But . . . ahhh,I’ma little surprised.France is . . . really farandthere’s somuchtodoand—”

“Not justFrance.Aprivatehouse—avilla. It belongs tomy friendMax, theone Iwent toschool with? And it’s beautiful and huge and empty,” he added. “With a giant bed, several ofthem.Apool.Wecancookandwalkaroundnaked;wedon’tevenhavetoanswerthephoneifwedon’twantto.Comeon,Chlo.”

“I love that you threw in the walking-around-naked part,” I said. “Because that’s mostdefinitelyhowyou’dclosethedeal.”

Hemovedcloser,clearlyawaremyresolvewasbreaking.“Ipridemyselfonalwaysknowingmyopponent,MissMills.Sowhatdoyousay?Comewithme?Please?”

“Jesus,Bennett.It’sliketeninthemorningandyou’rekillingmewiththeswoonshere.”“Idebatedtranquilizingyouandthrowingyouovermyshoulder,butthatmightmakethings

stickyatcustoms.”I tookadeepbreathandpeereddownat the tickets.“Okay, sowe’d leaveontheninthand

comeback...Wait,isthisright?”Hefollowedmygaze.“What?”“Threeweeks?Ican’tjustdropeverythingandgotoFranceforthreeweeks,Bennett!”Hestood,confused.“Why?Iwasabletomakearrangementsand—”“Areyouserious?First,we’removinginamonth.Amonth!Andwehaven’tevenpickedout

anapartment!Thenthere’smybestfriend,whowascheatedonbytheworld’sbiggestasshatlastweek. And let’s not forget the minor detail called my job? I have meetings and an entiredepartmenttohireandmovetoNewYork!”

His face fell; clearly thiswasnot the reactionhe’d anticipated.The sunwasbehindhimandwhenheturnedhishead,tiltingittheslightestbit,thelightcaughthiseyelashes,theanglesofhisface.

Ugh.Guiltswelledinmychestlikeaballoon.“Fuck.I’msorry.”Ileanedintohimandlaidmyheadagainsthisshoulder.“ThatisabsolutelynotthewayImeanttosayallthat.”

StrongarmswrappedaroundmeandIfelthimexhale.“Iknow.”Bennetttookmyhandandledmetothesmalltableinthecorneroftheroom.Hemotioned

for me to take a seat, while he took the chair opposite me. “Shall we negotiate?” he said, achallengeinhiseyesIhadn’tseensincehe’dsteppedintomyoffice.

ThisIcoulddo.He leaned forward,hands clasped and elbowson the table in frontofhim. “Themove,”he

began.“Admittedly,it’sabigone.ButwehaveaRealtor;I’veseenthetopthreecontenders.Youjustneedtodecideifyouneedtoseethem,orifyoutrustmetochoose.WecanlettheRealtorhandletherestandpaypeopletodotheactualpackingandmovingpart.”HeraisedabrowinquestionandInoddedforhimtocontinue.“IknowhowmuchyoucareaboutSara.Talktoher;seewhereshe’satwithallofthis.Yousaidyoudidn’tevenknowifshewasleavinghim,right?”

“Yeah.”“Sowe’llcrossthatbridgewhenwecometoit.Andyourjob...I’msoincrediblyproudof

you,Chloe. I knowhowhard youwork andhow important you are.But therewill never be aperfecttime.We’llalwaysbebusy,therewillalwaysbepeoplewhowantourattention,andtherewillalwaysbethingsthatfeelliketheycan’twait.It’sagoodexerciseforyouindelegatingtasks—Iloveyou,butyousuckatdelegating.Andit’sgoingtobeevenmorehecticwhenwemove.When’s the next timewe’ll have a chance to do this? I want to bewith you. I want to speakFrench to you andmake you comeon abed inFrancewherenobody can just dropbyon theweekendorcalleitherofusawayforwork.”

“You’remakingitveryhardtobetheresponsibleadulthere,”Isaid.“Beingresponsibleisoverrated.”Ifeltmymouthfallopenandcoulddonothingbutgapeathim.Iwasjustabouttoaskwho

thiseasygoingpersonwas,andwhatthey’ddonewithmyboyfriend,whentherewasaknockatthedoor. I pulledmy eyes away froma verypleasedboyfriend to see a terrified internwalk in,staring at Bennett with fear in her eyes.No doubt she’d drawn the short straw and been sentdowntoretrievetheBastard.

“Um...Excuseme,MissMills,”shestuttered,gazelockedonmeinsteadofherrealtarget.“They’rewaitingforMr.Ryanintheconferenceroomontwelve...”

“Thankyou,”Ianswered.SheleftandIturnedbacktoBennett.“We’lldiscussthislater?”heaskedquietly,standing.I nodded, still a little off balance fromhis change in attitude. “Thank you,” I said, vaguely

motioningtothetickets,butmeaningsomuchmore.Hekissedmyforehead.“Later.”

Travelhad...neverreallyworkedoutforBennettandme.SanDiegohadbeenperfectwhilewewere still tuckedaway inourown littlebubble. Itwaswhenwe tried to rejoin the living that ithadallgonetohell.Inabigway.

Andthenwe’dplannedtotravellastThanksgiving,andendedupcancelingthetripbecauseofwork.WetriedagaininDecember;Bennetthadbeendrowninginahugefitnessaccountthatwasset to launch justbefore theNewYear,andwebothhadthePapadakis launch inearlyJanuary.Somehow, though, I’d convinced him to come home with me for a long weekend over theholidays.

Tomeetmyfather.Bennetthadn’twantedto—he’dbeeninthefinalstagesofthishugecampaign,hadafamilyof

hisowntocontendwith.Andagirlfriendwhohadspentthebetterpartofthelastyeartellingherfatherwhatagiant,overbearingdickherbosswas,onlytothenfinallyadmitshewashavingsexwiththisboss.Thistriphaddisasterwrittenalloverit.

Bennetthadbeenquietthroughoutmostoftheflight,andwhenhehadn’tsuggestedwejointheMileHighClubevenonce,Iknewsomethingwasgoingon.

“You’rebeingawfully respectful over there,Ryan.What’sup?” Iaskedafterwe’d landedandweremakingourwaytotherentalcar.

“What’sthatsupposedtomean?”“Well, youhaven’tmadeone inappropriate commentorreferred tomeriding, sucking, licking,

touching, stroking, grabbing, or otherwise praising your dick once in the last three hours. I canpracticallyhearyouthinkingandfrankly,I’malittleconcerned.”

Hereacheddownandsmackedmyass.“Better?Yourtitslookgreatinthatsweater,bytheway.”“Talktome.”“I’mmeetingyourfather,”hesaid,pullingathiscollar.“And?”“AndheknowswhatanassholeIwas.”Iclearedmythroatandheglaredatme.“Canbe.”“Canbe?”“Chloe.”“It’sallpartoftheBennettRyancharmeveryonegoesonabout,”Isaid,battingmylashesathim.

“Sincewhendidyouapologizeforthat?”Hesighed.“Sincewe’regoingtoseeyourfather.Andifheownsacalendar,hewouldhavefigured

outthatIwassleepingwithyouwhileweworkedtogether.”“I had to face your family after all that, too. I’m sureMina toldHenry about the Bathroom

Incident,andifHenryknowsthenElliottknows.AndifElliottknows...ohmyGod,yourmotherknowswehadsexinherfavoritebathroom...whenJoelwasthereonablindsetuptomeetme.”Ismackedmypalmtomyforehead.

“Yeah,well,myfamilypracticallywalksaroundwearingTeamChloeshirtsundertheirregularclothessoit’salittledifferent.”

WereachedthedoortotherentalagencyandItookhishand,stoppinghim.“Look,mydadknowswhohisdaughteris.HeknowsIcanbealittlespirited—”

“Ha!”Itwasmyturntoglare.“AndheknowsIgiveasgoodasIget.You’refine.”Hesighedandleanedforwardtoresthisforeheadagainstmine.“Ifyousayso.”

Dad let out an evil whistle as he circled the shiny black Benz now parked in his driveway, bootscrunchinginthesnow.“Alwaysfiguredtherewasonlyonereasonamanwoulddriveacarlikethis:compensatingforsomething.Wouldn’tyouagree,Benson?”

“Bennett,”hecorrectedunderhisbreath,beforesmilingtightlyovertome.“It’sChristmas,Dad.Allthefour-wheel-drivevehiclesweregone.”Thingsdidn’timproveatdinner,either.

Aswesataroundthetable,myfatherstaredatBennettlikehewastryingtomatchhimupwithafacehe’dseenonthenews.“Bennett,huh?”hesaid,shootingaskepticaleyeoverhiswineglass.“Whatkindofanameisthat?”

Igroaned.“Daddy.”“MymotherwasabitofaJaneAustenfan,sir.Mybrother’smiddlenameisWilloughbysoIliketo

thinkIgotoffeasy.”Daddidn’tevencrackasmileatthat.“Namedafteracharacterinaromancenovel?Iguessthat

explainsafewthings.”“Your firstname,Frederick,”Bennett said,witha small smile. “It’sagoodname, if youdon’t

mind me saying so. Frederick Wentworth is also the hardworking, self-made protagonist inPersuasion. My mother made me read all of Austen’s novels when I was in high school, and Igenerallydowhatmymothertellsme.”Hetookabiteofhisdinner,chewed,andswallowedbeforesaying,“Thatadvicealsoincludesdatingyourdaughter.”

“Hmmm.Well, be carefulwith her,”Dad said, glaring at Bennett fromacross the table. “Myhygienist’sboyfriendisinthemob,andIdoubtanyonewouldmissyou.”

“Dad!”Helookedatme,eyeswideandinnocent.“What?”“Mark’sboyfriendisnotinthemob.”“Ofcourseheis.He’sItalian.”“Thatdoesn’tmeananything!”“Trustme.I’vemethim.Drivesablackcarwithverydarkwindows.MarkcalledhimFatDonat

theofficeparty.”“HisnameisGlen,Dad,andhe’sstudyingtobeaCPA.He’snotinthemob.”“Idon’t knowwhy youhave to be sodamnargumentativeall the time,Chloe.God only knows

whereyougetit.”AtthatpointBennettstartedlaughingsohardhehadtoexcusehimselffromthetable.Later,afterBennettwonmyfatheroverbylettingDadbeathimatMonopoly—howanyonewould

believeBennettRyanlostagameinvolvingmoney,I’llneverknow—hesnuckinfromtheguestroomandclimbedintomybed.

“You’regoingtogetusbusted,”Isaid,alreadyclimbingontopofhim.“Notifyou’requiet.”“Hmm,Idon’tknow.Can’ttellyouhowmanytimesmydadbustedmeforsneakingoutwhenI

wasinhighschool,andIwasveryquiet.”“Canwenottalkaboutyourdadrightnow?It’sseriouslydistractingmefromhowhotit’sgoingto

betofuckyouinyourteenagebed.AndJesus,Chloe.Aretheseevenconsideredunderwear?”hesaid,twistinghishandsinthetinystrapsofmypantiesandpulling.Hard.

“OhmyGod!”Iwhisper-shouted.“Thosewerenewand—”“Youlovedit,”hefinished,grinning.“Justdoingmyparttoupholdtradition.”

Iwantedtoarguebut1)hewasrightand2)IwasdistractedasBennettslidthetornfabrictothesideandslippedafingerinsideofme.Hetookmyhipinhisotherhand,encouragingmetomoveoverhim.

“Likethat,”hesaid,lipspartedandeyestrainedbetweenmylegs.“Fuck—takeyourshirtoff.”Rippedpantiesforgotten,Inodded,liftingmyT-shirtovermyheadandtossingitbehindus.He

slippedinasecondfingerandIspedup,thebedframesqueakingsoftlybeneathus.Bennettsat,whispering“Shh,”againstmymouth.“Situpalittle.”Ishiftedontomykneesandwatchedashepushedhispajamabottomsdownhiships.“Arewereallydoingthishere?”Iwhispered.Thebedwastoosmall,theroomtoohotandtooquiet

—andmydadwasjusttwodoorsdown.ItwasstupidandinconvenientandIcouldn’trememberwantingsomethingmore.

IswitchedonthesmalllampsoIcouldseehimbetter.Hislipswereswollen,hishairamess,andhisgrinwastotallyridiculouswhenhesaid,“Ifuckingloveyou,youfilthyfuckinggirl.Youwantmetowatch?”

“Yeah.”“Touchyourself,”hewhispered.Idid,waytooslowlytogetmeanywhere,buttheperfectspeedtomakehiseyesgrowtothesizeof

saucers before he stretched to kissme.Hemumbled something againstmy lips, his tonguemovinglazilyagainstmine.Hewasallsoftnoisesandhandseverywhere,hiscockslidingovermyclitbeforefinallypressingslowlyintome.

Itwasablurthen,thefeelingofbeingsofull,ofwarmbreathandwarmerskin.Bennettsuckedonmynipple, teethdraggingwhile I slid overhim. Iwas so lost to everything else that Ididn’t evennoticethefamiliarsqueakofthehingeonmybedroomdoor.

“OhfortheloveofPete!”mydadyelled,andsuddenlyitwaslegsandarmsandblanketsbeingtossed everywhere. I heard the distant flailing of my father as he rushed back down the hall,mutteringabouthislittlegirlandsexinhishouseandtelltalesignsofaheartattack.

Let’sjustsaythatneitherBennettnorIhadeverbeensogratefulforanythingaswewerefortheNDSUfootballplayerwhoneededanemergencyrootcanalthenextmorningandwhosecoach,anoldfriendofmyfather’s,insistedthatonlyDadcouldhandleit.Dadwasattheoffice,waitingontheirarrivalfromFargobeforethesunwasevenup.

No,vacationsneverreallyseemedtoworkoutforus.

Guiltateawayatmetherestofthemorning.Ishouldn’thavebeensohastytotellBennettitwasimpossible.Herehewas, trying tobe flexible, and Iwas theone tellinghim to considerwork.Whatthehellwaswrongwithme?Itriedtocatchhimbetweenmeetings.Itriedtomeetupwithhim for lunch. The closest I got was passing him in the hall, a group of executives babblingaroundhimlikefanboysaroundacelebrity.

“Ineedtotalktoyou,”Imouthed.“Batsignal?”Ithinkhesaidback.Ishookmyhead.“Dinner?”Henodded,blewmeakissbehindeveryone’sback,andwasoff,herdeddownthehallandinto

theelevator.

“Sohowarethings?”Sara shrugged,dragginganother fry throughketchupbeforepopping it intohermouth,but

definitelynotlookingatme.“Thingsarefine.”Iglaredather.ThingswerealwaysfinewithSara.“I’mserious!”sheinsisted,leaningbackinherchair.“There’ssomuchnoiseaboutitall.I’m

justtryingtofigureoutwhatistruth,andwhatisn’t.”“Soundslikeagoodplan,”Isaid.“I’veknownhimforsolongit’sjusthardtoreconcileitall.But,honestly,I’mdoingfine.”“Sara,pardontheintrusion,becauseIsupposetechnicallyit’snoneofmybusiness,butthatis

thebiggestloadofshitI’veeverheard.”“What?”“Youheardme!This thingwithAndy is ahugedeal!Bennettwantsus togo toFranceand

besidestheobvioustwelvehundredfifty-fourreasonswhyIshouldn’tgo,nearthetopofthatlistisyou!”

“What?”sherepeated,thoughabitlouderthistime.“BennettwantsyoutogotoFrance!OhmyGodthat’samazing!Andwait,whatdoyoumean‘me’?”

“Yeah,hewantsustohavesometimeawaytoreconnectbeforethecrazinessofNewYorkisuponusall,”Isaid,beforeballingupmynapkinandthrowingitather.“AndIhesitatetoleaveforthreeweeksbecauseI’mworriedaboutyou!”

Sara laughed, standing to walk around the table and hug me. “That is the sweetest, mostidioticthinganyonehaseversaidtome.Iloveyou,Chloe.”

“But I’mmoving,” I added, squeezing her tightly. “These were going to be our last threeweekstogether.”

Sara took the seat next tome. “I’m a big girl, and there are planes. I love—love—that youwanted to stay here and take care ofme. But . . . I think Bennettmight be right,” she said,wincingalittle.“Youguysneedthis,andifyoucanmakeitwork,well,youshouldthrowsomeskimpyclothesinabaganddragthatmantoFrance.”

I laughed, leaning on her shoulder. “God, itwould complicate things somuch. I’d have tofindsomeonetodointerviews,sitinonallmymeetings—”

“Butwoulditbeworthit?”

Ismiled,rememberinghowexcitedBennetthadbeenwhenhe’dtoldmeaboutthetrip,andhowhisfacehadfallenwhenIhadn’tsharedhisenthusiasm.“Yeah,itwould.”

SIX

Irolledover,grabbingmyphonefromthebedsidetableandmutingthealarmwithaswipeofmythumb.Iwasexhausted,havingfallenasleeponlytwohoursbefore.I’dworkeduntilalmosttwoandthentriedtoslip into bed without waking Chloe, but she’d stirred and climbed on top of me before I could sayanything.

AsifIwouldhavestoppedher.I couldn’t reallycomplain that itmeant anotherhourof sleep lost,butnow,whenherhand reached

blindlybeneaththeblankets,sweepingdownmystomachtocurlaroundmycock,IknewIhadtostopher.Ihadaflighttocatch,alone.

ShewascomingtoFrance,butshewasleavingadayafterme, insistingwithastubbornnessallherownthatsheneededtherestofFridaytogetthelastfewthingssorted.Iwouldhavewaitedforher,butbecausetheflightswerealllastminutethereweren’tanydirectflights,norwerethereanyseatstogetheranyway.Decidingtokeepmyflight,IfiguredI’dgetthereearlyandgetussituatedatMax’splace.

“Idon’tthinkwehavetime,”Imumbledintoherhair.“Notbuyingit,”shesaid,voicecroakywithsleep.“Thisguy,”shesaid,squeezingmyerectioninher

grip,“thinkswehaveplentyoftime.”“The car is pickingme up in fifteenminutes, and thanks to your appetite last night, I need another

shower.”“Therewasthatonetimeyouonlyneededtwominutestocome.You’retellingmeyoudon’thavetwo

minutes?”“Morningsexisneveronlytwominutes,”Iremindedher.“Notwhenyou’reallsleepyandrumpled

andwarm.” I rolledoutofbedandwalked intomybathroomto thesoundofhergroanmuffledbymystolenpillow.

WhenIemerged,cleananddressed,shesatupinbed,stillhuggingmypillowandsort-of-pretendingshewasn’tupsetthatwehadtoflyseparatelytoFrance.

“Don’t pout,” Imurmured, bending to kiss the corner of hermouth. “You’ll just confirmwhat I’vealwayssuspected:youcan’tfunctionwithoutme.”

Iexpectedher torollhereyesorpinchmeplayfullybutsheblinkeddowntomytieandreachedtoneedlesslyadjustit.“Icanfunctionwithoutyou.ButIdon’tlikebeingawayfromyou.Itfeelslikeyoutakemyhomewithyouwhenyougo.”Well,fuck.Ilaidmygarmentbagacrossthebedandtookherfaceinmyhandsuntilshelookedup,andcouldsee

theeffectherwordshadonme.Shesmiled,tongueslippingouttowetherlips.Withonefinalkiss,Iwhispered,“I’llseeyouinFrance.”

Iwouldloseadayintransit,arrivingonSaturday.Chloe’sflightwasonlytwelvehoursaftermine,butbecauseshecouldn’tgodirectshehadtored-eyeittoNewYorkandthenleaveforParisthefollowingday, getting intoMarseille onMonday. Itwouldgiveme time toprepare for her arrival, but, knowingMax,thehousewouldbespotlessandstockedwithfoodanddrinkandIwouldhavenothingtodo.AnidleBennett...andallthat.Isettledintothefirstclasscabin,decliningthechampagne,andpulledoutmyphonetotextChloe.Boarded.Seeyouacrossthepond.Myphonebuzzedseveralsecondslater.Rethinkingthiswholetrip.There’sashoesaleatDillons

thisweekend.Ilaughed,choosingtoignorethisoneandslippingmyphonebackintomyjacketpocket.Closingmy

eyesastheotherpassengersfiledinpastme,Irememberedourpasttrips.We’donlytraveledtogetherahandfuloftimes,butnothingeverwentaccordingtoplan.HadIincurredsomesortofvacationvoodooIwasn’tawareof?Itseemedweweredestinedtobeplaguedbytripsthatwentterriblyoffcourse,weretakenseparately,werecoloredbymiserablearguments...orwerecanceledaltogether.

MystomachturnedwhenIrememberedourattemptatavacationlastThanksgiving.Onimpulseoneweekendwe’dpurchasedticketstoSt.Bart’sandrentedahouseonthewater.ItwasmeanttobeperfectbutinsteaditledtothefirsttimeChloestoppedspeakingtomesinceourreconciliation.

“Motherfuckingcocksuckingsonofawhore.”I looked up frommy desk, my eyebrows inching to my hairline as Chloe slammedmy door and

stormedtomydesk.“Didthegimpescapethedungeonagain,MissMills?”“Closeenough.Papadakisispushinguplaunch.”Istoodsoabruptlymychairskiddedbackandbangedintothewall.“What?”“JanuaryisthenewMarch,apparently.ThefirstpressblastissettogooutJanuaryseventh.”“That’s a horrible time to pitch something like this! Everyone is still drunk or cleaning up the

holidaymess.Nooneisbuyingfancyapartments.”“That’swhatItoldBigGeorge.”“DidyoualsotellhimheneedstosticktocountinghisBenjaminsandleavethemarketingtous?”Shelaughed,crossingherarmsacrossherchest.“Imayhaveactuallyusedthosewords.Withafew

othergangstertermsthrownin.”Isatbackdown,rubbingmyhandsovermyface.Ourflightwasscheduledtoleaveinthemorning,

onThanksgivingDay,andtherewasnowaywecouldleaveworknow.“Youtoldhimthiswasokay?”Acrossthedesk,Icouldsensethatshegrewcompletelystill.“Whatwasmyoption?”“Totellhimwe’renotgoingtobeready!”“Butthat’salie.Wecanbeready.”Idroppedmyhands,gapingather.“Yes,butonlyifweworkfifteen-hourdaysthroughtheholidays

—andalltoaccommodatehisshittytimingforalaunch.”

She threwherhandsup, eyeson fire.“He’spayingusamilliondollars forbasicmarketingandwe’re inking a deal for another ten-million-dollarmedia campaign. You think fifteen-hour days areunreasonabletokeepourbiggestclient?”“Ofcoursenot!Buthe’salsonotyouronlyclient!Rulenumberoneinbusinessistonoteverletthe

bigdogknowhowsmalltheotherdogsare.”“Damnit,Bennett.I’mnotgoingtotellhimwecan’tdeliver.”“Sometimesa littlepushback isagood thing.You’rebeinggreen,Mills. If youweren’t sure, you

shouldhavesentthecalltome.”I immediately wanted to pull the words back into my mouth. Her eyes went wide, her mouth

dropped,andfuck,herhandscurledintofistsathersides.Ireacheddowntocovermyballs.“Are you fucking serious right now? Are you going to cut my fucking steak at dinner, too, you

egomaniacalasshat?”Icouldn’thelpmyself.“OnlyifIcanfeedittoyouandhelpyouchew.”HerfacesmoothedandIcouldseehercalculatehowmucheffortshewantedtoputintokickingmy

ass.“We’reskippingSt.Bart’s,”shesaid,flatly.“Obviously.WhydoyouthinkI’mpissed?”“Well,even ifwedidstillgoat thispoint,you’dbesleepingalonewithyourhandanda tubeof

lube.”“Icouldworkwiththat.Thesetwohandsprovidesomevariety.”Sheblinkedaway,jawclenched.“Areyoutryingtomakememoreangry?”“Sure,whynot.”Darkeyesturnedbackonme,narrowed.Hervoiceshookalittlewithoneword:“Why?”“Soyoucanfeelthepainmore.BecauseyoushouldhavetoldGeorgethatthesekindsofdecisions

havetobeclearedwiththeentireteamandwe’dhaveananswerforhimaftertheholiday.”“HowdoyouknowIdidn’tsaythat?”“Becauseyoucameinhereanddeliverednews.Youdidn’tactlikeitwasasuggestion.”Shestaredatme,eyesflashingthroughahundredresponses.Iwaitedtoseehowmanycursewords

shecouldstringtogetherbutshesurprisedmeinstead,andturnedtoleavemyoffice.

Chloedidn’tstayoverthatnight.Itwasonlythesecondnightwe’dspentapartafterherpresentationatJ.T.Miller lastJune,and Ididn’teven try to sleep. Instead, IwatchedMadMenonNetflix andwonderedwhichofuswouldapologizefirst.TheproblemwasIwasright,andIknewit.Thanksgivingmorningarrivedwithsnowflurriesandawindsostrongitpushedmeforwardinto

thebuildingasIwalked,alone,fromtheparkinggaragetomyoffice.Ithadneveroccurredtomethatshewouldleavemeagainafterourfight.IsuspectedChloeandI

wereinitforthelonghaul,whetherthelonghaulofficiallybegantomorrowortenyearsinthefuture.Therewasn’tanythingshecoulddotoscaremeoff.

AndwhileIfeltthesamewastrueforher,sherarelywalkedawayfromafight.SheeitherbattledwithmeuntilIwasfigurativelyonmykneesorsheendeduponherkneesinanentirelydifferentway.Onlya fewRMGemployeeswereatworkonThanksgiving—themembersof thePapadakis team.

AndeveryoneofthemglaredatChloeasshewalkeddownthehalltogetsomecoffee.Knowingher,shehadprobablyworkedlatelastnightandsleptunderherdesk.Shedidn’tevenglanceovertowhereIstoodinthedoorwaytotheconferenceroom.Still,Icould

almosthearherthinkingasshepassedeverydisgruntledteammember:“Youcansuckmydick.Andyou,too,cansuckmydick.Andyou?Theslackerwiththepatheticpout?Youcanreallysuckmydick.”Sheheadedtoheroffice,settledin,andleftherdooropen.Comeandgetme,shewassaying.Comeoninandlet’shaveitout.But for as much as everyone probably wanted to give her an earful for making us cancel our

holidayplans,noonedid.Eachofushadbeen raised in thebusinessworldunder the sameethos:work trumpsall.The lastperson to leavework is thehero.The firstperson inhasbraggingrights.Workingoverholidaysgetsyouintoheaven.Andwhileamore experienced executivewouldhave toldPapadakis thatwhathe’daskedwasn’t

possible,asalwaysIadmiredChloe’sdetermination.Thiswasn’tjustaboutmeetinganewmilestoneforher.Thiswasherlaunchinghercareer.Thiswasherfoundation.Chloewasmeafewyearsago.

After everyone else had left for the evening, I knockedonher opendoor, gently alertingher tomypresence.“Mr.Ryan,”shesaid,pullingoffherglassesandlookingupatme.Thecityskylinewinkedbehind

her,speckledlightscoveringherentirewallofwindows.“HeretoshowmehowtogrowapenissoIcangetthejobdone?”“Chloe,I’mprettysureifyouwantedtogrowone,youcoulddoitbywillalone.”Sheletahalfsmileform,pushingbackfromherdeskandcrossingherlegs.“I’dgrowonejustsoI

couldaskyoutosuckonit.”Icouldn’tcontainmylaughter,bendingoverandcollapsingintothechairacrossthedeskfromher.

“Iknewyouweregoingtosaythat.”Hereyebrowspulledtogetheralittle.“Well,beforeyousayanythingelse,yes,Iknowthissucks.

And...Ithinkyouwereright.WecouldbeinSt.Bart’srightnow,onthebeach.”Istartedtospeak,butsheheldupherhandtourgemetowait.“Butthethingis,Bennett,nomatterhowmuchIshouldhave,Ididn’twanttotellPapadakisno.I

wantedtodeliver,becausewecan,andweshould.It’sdowntothewireanywayandwe’vehadalotoftimetoworkonthis.Itfeltdisingenuoustosaywecouldn’tmakeithappen.”“True,” I conceded,“butby lettinghimpushamilestoneahead to thebeginningof thequarter,

you’vesetaprecedent.”“Iknow,”shesaid,rubbinghertempleswithherfingertips.

“Butactually,Iwasn’tcominginheretotellyouwhatyou’ddonewaswrong.IwascominginheretotellyouIunderstandwhyyoudidit.Ican’treallyfaultyou.”Shedroppedherhands,eyeingmecautiously.“Atthispointinyourcareer,Ican’tbesurprisedyousaidyestoPapadakis.”HermouthopenedandIcouldseealitanyofcursewordsformonhertongue.“Easy,firecracker,”Isaid,leaningforwardandholdingupmyhands.“Idon’tmeanyou’renaïve;

I’mnotpullingthe‘seasoning’cardagain—thoughit’struenomatterhowmuchyouhatetohearit.Imeanyou’restillbuilding.Youwanttoshowtheworldthatyou’reAtlas—andtoaTitan,thatfuckingcelestialsphereweighsnothing.It’s just that it’s impactedtheentire team,andoveraholiday.Igetwhyyoudidit,andIalsogetwhyyou’reconflicted.I’msorrythisishardforyou,becauseI’vebeenthere.”Iloweredmyvoice,movedalittlecloser.“Itsucks.”The room seemed to grow darker, the sun dipping behind the horizon just as I’d finished my

sentence.Chloewatchedme,facesmoothandpracticallyunreadable.Well,unreadabletoanyoneelse.Anyonewhohadn’tseenthatfaceathousandtimes,theonethat

toldmeshewantedtosmackme,kissme,scratchme,andthenfuckme.“Don’tsmirk,”shesaid,eyesnarrowing.“Iseewhatyou’redoing.”“WhatamIdoing?”“Tryingtobuildmeup.Beingahardass,yetalsomylover.Damnit,Bennett.”“You’regoingtofuckmeinyouroffice!”Icrowed,mywordscoloredwithsurpriseandglee.“God,

you’reeasy.”She stoodquickly,walkingaround thedeskand reaching immediately formy tie.“Damnit.”She

unknottedit,wrappingitaroundmyeyesandtyingitbehindmyhead.“Stopstudyingme,”shehissedintomyear.“Stopseeingeverything.”“Never.” I closedmy eyes behind the silk fabric and letmyother senses take over, inhaling the

delicatecitrusscentofherperfume,reachingtofeelthesoftskinofherforearms.Imovedmyhandsslowlydownherbodyandturnedheraround,pullingherbacktomychest.“Thisbetter?”Her quiet huff wasn’t for my benefit; it was a sound of genuine frustration. “Bennett,” she

murmured,leaningback.“You’remakingmecrazy.”Igrippedherhips,pullinghertomesoshecouldfeelthehardlineofmycockagainstherass.“At

leastsomethingsneverchange.”

Iblinkeduptotheflightattendant,whobentlowtocatchmyeyeandhadobviouslyjustsaidsomething.“I’msorry?”Iasked.“Wouldyoulikeabeveragewithyourmeal?”“Ah,yes,”Isaid,pullingmybrainfromthememoryofChloe’sbody,tightandcoiledaroundmeasI’d

fuckedheroverherdesk.“JustsomeGreyGooseandacupofice,please.”“Andforlunch?Wehavefiletmignonoracheeseandoliveplate.”

Iorderedthelatterandglancedoutthewindow.Fromthirtythousandfeetup,Icouldbeanywhere.ButIhadthedistinctfeelingIwasheadedbackintime.

Ihadn’tbeenbacktoFrancesincemyreturntotheStates,whenImetChloeinperson.Forwhatfeltlikethehundredthtime,IregisteredhowthatoldBennettdidn’tfeelfamiliarintheslightest.

Thanksgiving had been a revelation in part because, before Chloe, I would have also said yes toGeorge’sdemandwithoutevenathought.Chloewassosimilartomeinsomanyways,itwasactuallyalittlefrightening.

IsmiledasIthoughtbacktomymother’sadvice:“Findawomanwhowillbeyourequalineveryway.Don’tletyourselffallforsomeonewho’llput

yourworldbeforetheirs.Fallforthepowerhousewholivesasfearlesslyasyoudo.Findthewomanwhomakesyouwanttobeabetterman.”

Well,Ihadfoundher.NowallIhadtodowaswaitforhertogethere,soIcouldmakesuresheknew.

The path leading to our borrowed villa was covered in small, smooth stones. Theywere brown anduniforminsize,andalthough theywereclearlyselectedfor theirappearanceandhowwell theyfit thelandscaping, it was refreshingly obvious that the grounds weremeant to be enjoyed, not treated as apreciousmuseumpiece.Flowerbedsandurnslinedbothsidesofthepath,eachspillingoverwithbright,colorful blossoms. There were trees everywhere, and off in the distance was a little seating area,screenedfromtherestoftheyardbyawallofbloomingvines.

Truly,Ihadneverseenamorebeautifulcountryhome.Thehousewasasoftred, thecoloroffadedclay,andweatheredtoanabsolutelygorgeouseffect.Whiteshuttersframedthetallwindowsonthefirstandsecondfloors,andmorevibrantflowerslinedbedsagainstthedoors.Theperfumeintheairwasamixtureofoceanandpeony.

BougainvilleacrawledupatrellisandframedtheFrenchprovincial-inspirednarrowdoubledoorway.The top step was cracked, but swept clean, and a simple, soft green mat lay atop the sun-bleachedconcrete.

Iturned,lookingbehindmeattheyard.Inthefarcornerandbeneathseveralfigtrees,alongtablewascovered in a brilliant orange tablecloth, the tabletopdecorated simplywith a narrow lineof tinybluebottles of different shapes and sizes. Cleanwhite plateswere spaced at even intervals,waiting for adinnerpartytoappear.AgreenlawnstretchedtowhereIstoodonthenarrowporch,brokenonlybytheoccasionalingroundplanterburstingwithpurple,yellow,andpinkflowers.

Ipulledthekeyfrommypocketandenteredthehouse.Fromtheoutside, itwasclearly large,but italmostseemedtoexpandlikeanopticalillusioninside.Christ,Max,thisseemsalittleexcessive. Iknewhishousein theProvenceregionwaslarge,butI

didn’t realize thereweresomanyfuckingrooms. Just from the frontdoor, I could seeat least adozendoorwaysconnectingoffthemainhall,anddoubtlesstherewerecountlessotherroomsupstairsandoutofsight.

Ipausedintheentryway,staringattheenormousurnthatlookedlikethelargercousintoasmallvasemy mother had in her dining room hutch; the cerulean blue base glaze was identical, and the samebeautifulyellowlinesbleddownitscurvedsides.IrememberedthegiftfromwhenMaxbroughtitformymotherthefirsttimehe’dcomehomewithme,overthewinterholidays.Ihadn’trealizedatthetimehowpersonalthehostessgifthadbeentohim,butnow,lookingaroundhisvacationhome,Icouldseethesameartist’sworkeverywhere:inplatesmountedabovethemantel,inahandmadeteapotandasetofsimplecupsonatrayintheparlor.

I smiled, reachingout to touch theurn.Chloewouldcompletely lose itwhenshesaw it; itwasherfavoritethinginmymother’shouse.Afeelingovercamemethatwewerealmostfatedtohavecomehere.After her birthday dinner in January, Chloe hesitated in the dining room, glancing at Mom’s

impressiveartcollectioninthehutch.ButinsteadofgoingfortheobviousgleamoftheTiffanyvasesortheintricatedetailofthecarvedwoodenbowls,shewentstraightforatinybluevaseinthecorner.“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this color before,” she said, awestruck. “I didn’t think this color

existedoutsideoftheimagination.”Momwalkedover,pulleditfromtheshelf.Underthesoftlightofthechandelier,thecolorseemed

toalmostwinkandchangeevenasChloehelditstillinherhand.I’dnevernoticedbeforehowprettythepiecewas.“It’soneofmyfavorites,”Momadmitted,smiling.“I’veneverseenanythingthiscoloranywhere

elseeither.”Butthatwasn’tentirelytrue,Ithought,asIsteppedawayfromtheurnandwalkedtothemantel.The

oceanherewasthatcolor,whenthesunwashighoverthehorizonandtheskywasclear.Onlythendidithitthatexactsameblue,liketheheartofthedeepestsapphire.Anartistwholivedherewouldknowthat.

Ontheshelfwerethreehandmadesantons,thesmallnativityfigurinestraditionallymadebyartistsinProvence.AllwereobviouslymadebythesameartistwhomadeMom’svase,thegianturn,andtherestofthearthere.Heorshemusthavebeenlocal,whetherstillaliveornot,butperhapsChloewouldhavetheopportunitytoseesomeotherpieceswhilevisiting.Thecoincidence,theperfectionofit,feltalmostsurreal.

The blues and greens of the platter mounted over the mantel caught the late afternoon sun andredirectedthelight,castingthewallbehinditinasoftblueglow.Withthewindblowingthroughthetreesoutsideandthesunlightwinkinginandoutofshadows,theeffectwasabitlikewatchingthesurfaceoftheoceanmoveinthewind.Combinedwiththecrispwhitefurnitureandotherwisesimpledecoratinginthesitting room, it immediatelymademefeelcalmer.TheworldofRMGandPapadakis,ofworkandstressandtheconstantbuzzingofmyphone,feltamillionmilesaway.

Unfortunately,sodidChloe.AsifshecouldhearmythoughtsfromwhereshesatonaplaneheadedovertheAtlantic,myphone

buzzedinmypocketandheruniquetextchimerangoutinthesilentroom.Pullingmyphonefrommypocket,Iglanceddownandreadthemessage:Mechanicstrike.Allflights

canceled.I’mstuckinNewYork.

Seven

“Whatdoyoumeangrounded?” I said,gapingat thewomanon theother sideof thecounter.Shewas aboutmy age,with freckled cheeks and strawberry-blond hair pulled back into a sleekponytail.ShealsolookedlikeshewastwosecondsfromstranglingmeandeveryotherpersonintheinternationalterminalatLaGuardia.

“Unfortunately we’ve just been informed of a mechanic union strike,” she said flatly. “AllProvenceAirlinesflightsinandoutoftheairporthavebeencanceled.We’reterriblysorryfortheinconvenience.”

Well, shedidn’tsoundverysorry.Icontinuedtostare,blinkingrapidlyasherwordssunk in.“Excuseme,what?”

Shearrangedher features intoa tight,practicedsmile.“All flightshavebeencanceledduetothestrike.”IglancedoverhershouldertotheProvenceAirlinesdepartureandarrivalscreens.Sureenough,CANCELEDwasemblazonedacrosseachline.

“You’retellingmeI’mstuckhere?Whydidn’tanyonetellmethisinChicago?”“We’dbehappytohelpyoumakeaccommodationsforthenight—”“Nonono,that’simpossible.Please,checkagain.”“Ma’am, as I told you, there arenoProvenceAirlines flights takingoff or landing.You can

checkwiththeotherairlinestoseeiftheycanaccommodateyou.There’snothingelseIcando.”Igroaned,lettingmyforeheadfalltothecounter.Bennettwaswaitingforme,probablysitting

outsideinthesunatthisverymoment, laptopopenandworkingliketheoverachievingloserhewas.God,heturnsmeon.

“This can’t behappening,” I said, straightening andgiving the attendant themost pleadingexpressionIcouldmuster.“The sweetest jackass in theworld iswaiting forme inFranceandIcan’tscrewthisup!”

“Mkaaaay,”shesaidclearingherthroatandstraighteningastackofpapers.Iwasdoomed.“Howlong?”Iasked.“There’snoway to tell.Obviously they’ll try and resolve the issueas soonaspossible,but it

couldbeoneday,itcouldbemore.”Well,thatwashelpful.With a dramatic sigh and a fewmuffled swearwords I draggedmyself from the counter, in

searchofaquietcornertocallmyassistant.Oh,andtotextBennett.Thiswasnotgoingtogooverwell.

Thephonerangwithinseconds.

I maneuvered through the crowd, through the throngs of stranded passengers taking upvirtuallyeveryflatsurfaceintheProvenceAirlinesterminal,andstoppedatatinyalcoveneartherestrooms.

“Hi.”“Whatthefuckdoyoumean‘stuckinNewYork’?!”heshouted.Iwinced,pullingthephonefrommyearbeforetakingamuch-neededcalmingbreath.“Itmeans exactlywhat you think itmeans.We’ve been grounded, no flights in or out. I’m

having a few people check withDelta and a few other airlines, but I’m sure everyone else hasalreadydonethat,too.”

“Thisisunacceptable!”heroared.“Dotheyknowwhoyouare?Letmetalktosomeone.”Ilaughed.“NobodyhereknowsorcareswhoIam.Oryouforthatmatter.”Hewassilentforamoment,longenoughthatIactuallylookedtoseeifI’ddroppedthecall.I

hadn’t. The sound of birds singing filled the line, a wind chime off in the distance.When hefinallydidspeak,itwasinthatlow,steadyvoiceI’dbecomesoaccustomedto.Theonethatstillsentgoosebumpsalongmyskin.Theoneheusedwhenhemeantbusiness.

“Tellthemtogetyourassonaplane,”hesaid,enunciatingeveryword.“Everything is overbooked on every plane, Bennett. What the hell do you want me to do?

Catcharideonaboat?Useaportkey?Simmerdown,I’llgetthereassoonasIcan.”Hegroaned,andIcouldtellthemomentherealizedhecouldn’targueorcharmhiswayout

ofthis.“Butwhen?”“Idon’tknow,babe.Tomorrow,maybe?Thenextday?Soon,Ipromise.”With a resigned sigh he asked, “So what now?” I heard the sound of a door opening and

closing,thetinkleofsoftmusicinthebackground.“Wewait.” I sighed. “I’ll get a room,maybe get somework done.Maybe I can check out

thoseapartmentswhileI’mhere.AndthenIpromise,thefirstavailableflightoutofhere?I’monit.EvenifIhavetotakeoutafewbusinessmenwiththeheelofmyshoe—I’llgetthere.”

“Youbetyourassyouwill,”hesaid.I shookmyheadtoclear it fromthesoundofhiscommandingvoice.“Sotellmeabout the

house.IsitasgorgeousasIimagine?”“Better. I mean, your company would obviously improve it, but damn. Max really outdid

himselfonthisone.”“Well,tryandenjoyit.Sitinthesun,swim,readsomethingtrashy.Walkaroundbarefoot.”“Walkaroundbarefoot?That’sanunusualrequest,evenforyou.”“Humorme.”“Yes,ma’am.”Igrinned.“Damn,IthinkIlikethissideofyou.Prettysexywhenyoutakeorders,Ryan.”Helaughedsoftlyintothephone.“Oh,andChloe?”“Hmm?”

“Ihopeyoudidn’tpackanypanties.Youwon’tbeneedingthem.”

Ispenttherestofthedayattheairport,prayingforamiracleoraflighttoFrance.Igotneither.It tookhours to locatemy luggage, soby the time I finallywalked through thedoorofmy

hotelroom,Iwasreadytopassout.Withthetimedifferenceitwastoolate,ortooearly,tocallBennett,soI’dsenthimashorttextwhileIranmyselfabathandorderedabottleofwine,alongwithanythingcontainingchocolate,fromtheroomservicemenu.

I’d justclimbed intothe largetub—wineglassandchocolatecheesecakebalancedprecariouslyontheedge—whenmyphonerang.Myhandfumbledaroundonthetile flooruntil I found it,andasmilefilledmewhenBennett’sfacelitupthescreen.

“Ithoughtyou’dbeasleep,”Isaid.“Bed’stoobig.”I smiled at his sleepy voice.Thiswas theBennettwhowould roll over in themiddle of the

night, limbswarm and heavy, sweetwordsmumbled intomy skin.He’d always been somuchbetteratallofthisthanIhad,evenfromthebeginning.

“Whatareyoudoing?”heasked,bringingmyattentionbacktothephone.“Bubblebath,”Isaid,andgrinnedatthesoundofhisgroanontheotherendoftheline.“Nofair.”“Whataboutyou?”“Justgoingoversomepaperwork.”“Didyoufindmynote?“Note?”“Ileftyousomething.”“Youdid?”“Mm-hmm.Checkyourlaptopbag.”Iheardthecreakofleatherashestood,thesoundoffeetpaddingacrossatilefloorfollowed

bylaughter.“Chloe,”hesaid,laughinghardernow.“Itlookslikesomeoneslippedaransomnoteinhere.”

“Veryfunny.”“ ‘Threeobservationsabouttoday:Ididn’tgeteverythingdoneonmyto-dolist,thesaladyou

mademeforlunchwasdelicious,and,mostimportantly,Iloveyou,’ ”heread,andthenfellsilentashereadtherestofthenotetohimself.Whenhefinished,hegrumbled,“I...fuck.Itmakesmeinsanethatyouaren’there.”

Iclosedmyeyes.“Theuniverseisconspiringagainstus.”“Youknow, there’s apartofme thatwants to saynoneof thiswouldhavehappened if you

weren’t sostubborn,andwouldhave justcomewithme inthe firstplace.”I startedtoprotest.“But,”hesaid,continuing,“yourdeterminationisoneofthethingsIlovemostaboutyou.You

neversettle.You’dneverexpectsomeonetodoajobyouwouldn’tdoyourself.Andyouwouldn’tbe thewoman I fell in lovewith if you changed that. It’s exactlywhat Iwouldhave done.Asusual.Andalsoalittlecreepytorealizehowalikeweare.”

I sat up in the cooling water, bringing my knees to my chest. “Thank you, Bennett. Thatmeansalottome.”

“Well,Imeantit.AndyoucanshowmeyourappreciationwhenyougetthathotlittleasstoFrance.Deal?”

Irolledmyeyes.“Deal.”

Ididn’tgettoFrancethenextday.Orthedayafterthat.AndbydaythreeIwasactuallytryingtorememberwhyhitchingarideonaboathadseemedlikesuchabadideainthefirstplace.

It’spossibleIcalledBennettmoreinthosethreedaysthanintheentiretyofourrelationship,but it wasn’t enough, and did nothing to ease the hollow ache that had taken up permanentresidenceinsidemychest.

Ikeptmyselfbusy,buttherewasnodenyingIwashomesick.Iwasn’tsureexactlywhenithadhappened,butatsomepoint,Bennetthadbecomeitforme.Asinitit.TheOne.

Anditwasfuckingterrifying.I’dcometothisrealizationwhileoutforawalk.Myassistanthadcalled,sayingshe’dbeenable

togetmeonanAirFranceflightlaterthatnight.MyfirstthoughthadbeenofBennett,andhowIcouldn’twaittotellhimIwasonmyway.I’dnearlysprintedtomyhotelroom.

But thenI’dstopped,heart racingand lungson fire.Whenhadthishappened,whenhadhebecomemyeverything?AndIwondered,wasitpossiblehewastryingtotellmehefeltthesameway?Ipackedinadaze,throwingclothesaimlesslyintomybagandcollectingmythingsaroundthe room. I thought back onhowmuchhe’d changed in the last year.The quietmoments atnight,thewayhelookedatmesometimesasifIweretheonlywomanontheplanet.Iwantedtobewithhim—always.Andnotjustinthesameapartmentorbed,butforgood.

ItwasthenthatIwasstruckbyanideasocrazy,soinsane,thatIliterallyburstoutlaughing.I’dneverbeenthetypeofwomantositbackandwaitforthethingsIwantedtoappear,sowhyshouldthisbeanydifferent?Andthatwasit.

BennettRyanhadnoideawhatwasabouttohithim.

EIGHT

Asimpossibleasitseemed,Iwasboredoutofmyfuckingmindinthisbeautiful,enormousFrenchvilla.Theplacerequirednocleaningorhandymanwork,myVPNconnectionwassoslowIcouldn’tgetontheRMG server to conduct actual business, and—perhaps most strangely—I felt like there were certainthingsIshouldn’tdountilChloegothere.

ItfeltwrongtodiveintotheinfinitypoolknowingshewasstuckinNewYork.Ididn’twanttowalkthroughthevineyardsbordering thehouse,because itseemedlikesomethingweshoulddiscoverat thesametime.Max’shousekeeperhadputoutsomebottlesofwineforus toenjoy,butsurelyonlyagiantassholewoulddrinkthemalone.Myclaimtothishousewashers,too.I’dstillonlyopenedonebedroomdoor,andsleptthere,notwantingtogothroughouroptionsuntilshe’darrived.Togetherwewouldpickoutwherewewouldspendournights.

Ofcourse,ifIsaidanyofthistohershewouldlaughatmeandtellmeIwasbeingdramatic.Butthat’swhyIwantedherhere.SomethingmonumentalhappenedtometheotherdaywhenIusedthebatsignal,and that sense of urgency hadn’t diminished, and probablywouldn’t until shewas here and had heardwhatIhadtosay.

Iwalked through the gardens, stared out at the ocean in the distance, and checkedmyphone again,readingChloe’smostrecenttextforthehundredthtime:

LookslikeAirFrancemighthaveanopenseat.She’dsentthisonethreehoursago.Althoughitseemedpromising,herpreviousthreetextshadbeen

similar, andultimately she’dbeenbumped from those flights.Even if shehad left threehoursago, shewouldn’tmakeittoMarseilleuntiltomorrowmorning,atbest.

Outofthecornerofmyeye,Isawasmallfigureemergefromthebackofthehouseandplaceaplatteroffoodonthetableclosesttothepool.AnotherpeekattheclockonmyphonetoldmethatI’dmanagedtokill a fewhours, and itwas finally time for lunch.Thehousehadcomewithacook,a fifty-somethingwomannamedDominique,whobakedbreadeverymorning,and,sofar,servedsomevarietyoffish,freshgardengreens,andfigsatlunch.Dessertwashandmademacaronsortinycookieswithjamthumbprints.IfChloedidn’tgetheresoon,Dominiquewouldhavetorollmetothedoortogreetmyladyfriend.

Besidemyplatewasalargeglassofwine,andwhenIlookedoveratDominique,she’dstoppedatthethresholdofthebackdoor,pointedtothewine,andsaid,“Leboire.Vousvousennuyez,etsolitaire.”Well,shit.Iwasbored,andIwaslonely.Oneglassofwinecouldn’thurt.Iwasn’tcelebrating—Iwas

surviving, right? I thankedDominique for lunch, and sat downat the table, trying to ignore theperfectbreeze,theperfecttemperature,thesoundoftheoceannotevenahalfmileinthedistance,thefeelofthewarmtilebeneathmybarefeet.Iwouldn’tenjoyasingleseconduntilChloewashere.Bennett,youareonepatheticnavel-gazer.Asusual,thefishwasincredible,andthesaladwithtinytartonionsandlittlecubesofasharp,white

cheesepackedsomuchflavorthatbeforeIknewit,mywineglasswasemptyandDominiquewasatmy

side,quietlyrefillingit.Ibegantostopher,tellingherIneedednomorewine.“Jevaisbien,jen’aipasbesoindeplus.”Shewinkedatme.“Puisl’ignorer.”Thenignoreit.

OnebottleofwinedownandIbeganwonderingwhyIhadn’tboughtavillainFrancemyself.Ihadlivedin thecountrybefore,afterall,andwhile thememorieswerebittersweet—timeawayfromfriendsandfamily,agruelingworkschedule—I’dlivedhereinatimeofmylifethatfeltsoshortinhindsight.Iwasstillyoung.Iwasstillstartingout,really.ThankfuckChloeandIhadfoundeachotherwhenwestillhadourwholelivesaheadofus.

Hell, ifMax could find a gorgeous place like this, I could find one that was evenmore lush andbeautiful.

Thewinehadleftmylimbswarmandheavy,myheadfulloframblingthoughtsthatseemedtohavenoreason.Howinsanewould ithavebeen toknowChloe inmyearly twenties?Wewouldhave torn thisplaceup,andprobablylastedonlyaweekend.Isn’titamazinghowyoumeetthepersonyou’remeanttomeet,whenyou’resupposedtomeether?

IfumbledwithmyphoneandtextedChloe:I’msogladwemetwhenwedid.Evenifyouwereanenormouspaininmyassyou’restillthebestthingthateverhapenedtome.

I stared intently atmy phone, looking for an indication that shewas replying, but nothing.Had herphonedied?Orwassheasleepinthehotel?Couldshetextontheairline?Ididthementalcalculation,knowingshewassixhours?Sevenhoursbehind...?No,toocomplicated.IsmiledatDominiqueasshepouredmeanotherglassofwine,andItextedChloeagain:NotdrinkingallofthewinembutwhatIhaveisdellicious!Ipromistosavesomeforyou.

Istood, trippingover . . .something.I frowneddownat the lawnandwonderedif I’dsteppedonasmallanimal.Discardingthethought,Iwalkedintothegarden,stretchingmyarmsandlettingoutalong,happysigh.Ifeltrelaxedforthefirst timesinceI’dlastfuckedChloe,whichwasaboutazillionyearsago.Witha fullstomachandabitofwine inme, I realizedIhadn’t taken the time toplanforChloe’sarrivalatall.Wehadsomethingstogetoutofthewayfirst.Wehadsometalkingtodo,someplanning.

WouldIleadhertothegarden,pullherdownontothelawnwithme,andmakeherlisten?Orwaitforaquietmomentoverdinnerandthengotoher,guidingheroutofthechairandclosetome?IknewwhatIwantedtosay—I’dgoneoverthewordsamilliontimesinmyheadontheflightshere—butIdidn’tknowwhenIwouldsayit.Besttoletherbehereafewdaysbeforedroppingthehammer.Iclosedmyeyes,leanedmyheadback,andtiltedmyheaduptothesky.Iletmyselfenjoyitforjusta

beat.Theweatherwasspectacular.ThelasttimeI’dbeenoutsideinthesunwithChloewasatabarbecueatHenry’sthepreviousweekend,andithadonlybeenmarginallywarm.Afteradayinthesunandwind,we’dgonehomeandhadsomeofthelaziest,quietestsexIcouldremember.

Iopenedmyeyesandimmediatelyclappedahandovermyfaceinthebrightsun.“Ow.Fuck.”

Dominiqueappearedseveralyardsawayandpointedtothefrontgate.“Allez,”shesaid,tellingmetogo.“Sepromener.Vousêtesivre.”

Ilaughed.Hellyes,Iwastipsy.She’dpouredtheentirebottleofwineforme.“Jesuisivreparcequevousmeversaunebouteilleentièredevin.”Ithinkthat’swhatIsaid.

Withasmile,sheliftedherchin.“Allezchercherdesfleursdanslarue.DemandezMathilde.”

Thiswasgood.Ihadatask.Findsomeflowers.AskforMathilde.Ibenttotiemyshoeandheadedoutofthe property, toward town. Dominique was a wily one, gettingme drunk and then sendingme off onerrandssoIwasn’tmopingaroundthehouseallday.SheandChloewouldgetalongswimmingly.

Not a half mile down the road, there was a small storefront with flowers spilling out of everyconceivable container: vases and baskets, boxes and urns.Over the doorwas a small signwritten inloopingscriptthatsaidsimply,MATHILDE.Bingo.AbellrangasIentered,andayoungblondwomansteppedfromthebackintothesmallmainroomof

thestore.GreetingmeinFrench,shequicklygavemeaonce-overandthenasked,“You’retheAmerican?”“Oui,maisjeparlefrançais.”“ButIalsospeakEnglish,”shesaid,herthickaccentcurlingaroundeachword.“Anditismystore,so

we’llpracticeforme.”Sheraisedherbrowsflirtatiously,asiftochallengeme.Shewasbeautiful,nodoubt,butherlingering

eyecontactandsexysmilemademeatouchuneasy.Andthenithitme:DominiqueknewIwasboredandlonely,butsheprobablyhadnoideathatIwas

waitingforChloe’sarrival.She’dfilledmewithwineandthensentmetothehotyoungsinglewomandownthestreet.OhdearGod.Mathildemovedalittlecloser,adjustingsomeflowersinatall,slimvase.“Dominiquesaidyouwere

stayingatMr.Stella’s.”“YouknowMax?”Herlaughwashuskyandquiet.“Yes,IknowMax.”“Oh,”Isaid,eyeswidening.Ofcourse.“YoumeanyouknowMax.”“Thisdoesn’tmakemeunique,”shesaid,laughingagain.Lookingawayfromherflowers,sheasked,

“Areyouhereforflowers?OrdoyouthinkperhapsDominiquesentyouforsomethingelse?”“Mygirlfriend iscoming tomorrowshewasstuck inNewYorkand then theyhada strikeandnow

she’scoming,”Iblurtedoutinonesteady,awkwardword-flood.“Soyou’rehereforflowers,then.”Mathildepaused,lookingaroundthestore.“Whataluckywoman

sheis.Youareveryhandsome.”Hereyesslidbacktome.“Perhapsyou’llbesoberbythen?”Ifrowned.Straightening,Imuttered,“I’mnotthattipsy.”

“No?”Hereyebrowsliftedandanamusedsmilespreadacrossherface.Shemovedbackthroughthestore,collectinganassortmentofflowersasshewalked.“Youarecharminganyway,FriendofMax.Thewinejustmakesyoulessinhibited.Ibetnormallyyoubuttonupyourshirtsandfrownatpeoplewhowillwalktooslowlyinfrontofyou.”

Myfrowndeepened.Thatdidsoundalittlelikeme.“ItakemyworkseriouslybutI’mnotlikethat...allthetime.”

She smiled, tying some twine around the flowers. Mathilde handed me the bouquet and winked.“You’renotatworkhere.Keepyourshirtunbuttoned.Anddon’tsoberupforyourlover.Thereareninebedsinthathouse.”

The front doorwasopen.HadDominique left andnot closed it behindher?Panic seizedme.What ifsomethinghadhappenedwhenIwasintown?Whatifthehousehadbeenransacked?DespiteMathilde’sadvice,Isoberedinstantly.

Butithadn’tbeenransacked.ItwasexactlyasIleftit,withjustabitmorewindblowingthroughtheopendoor.Yet...Ihadn’tcomeoutthisway;I’dwalkedfromthebackyardtothefrontgardens.

Downthehall,Iheardwaterrunning,andIcalledouttoDominique,“Mercipourl’idée,Dominique,maismacopinearrivedemain.”SheshouldknowassoonaspossiblethatIwasspokenfor.Whoknowsifshewouldstart invitingwomenoverhere?Is thatwhatshedidforMax?DearGod, themanhasn’tchangedonebit.

AsIneared theclosestbedroomoff thehall, I realized thatwhat I’dheardwasa shower.And justinsidethedoorweresuitcases.Chloe’ssuitcases.

Icouldhavebarreledinthereandscaredtheever-lovingshitoutofher.Shehad,afterall,beenstupidenough to leave the front door open enough for it to blowwide in thewind, and then climbed in theshower.IclenchedmyjawandfistsasIimaginedwhatmighthavehappenedifsomeoneelsehaddecidedtowalkintothehouseinsteadofme.Fuck.Ihadn’tseenherindaysandIalreadywantedtostrangleandthenkissthehelloutofher.Ifelta

smile pull atmymouth. Thiswas us. Itwas such a familiar battle of love and frustration, desire andexasperation.ShewouldpusheverybuttonIhad,andthenuncovernewonesIdidn’tevenknowIhad,andpushthose.

Her quiet singing drifted from the bathroom into the bedroom I’d claimed the first night here.As Imovedcloser,peekingaroundthedoorwaytowhereshestood,Iwasgreetedbythesightofherlongwethairslickandshinydownhernakedback.Andthenshebentoversoherperfectasswasintheairassheshavedherlegs,andkeptsingingtoherself.

Partofmewantedtoclimbin,taketherazorfromherhand,andfinishthejobforher,kissingeverysmooth inch. Another part ofmewanted to climb in andmake good on the promise to take her from

behind,slowlyandcarefully.Butanevenlargerpartofmerelishedplayingthevoyeur.Shestilldidn’tknowIwasthere,andseeingherlikethis—thinkingshewasalone,singingquietly,maybeeventhinkingaboutme?—waslikeacoldglassofwateronascorchingday.Iwouldnevergettiredofwatchingherinanysetting.Andnaked,wet,andintheshowerwasn’ttoofarfromthetopscenarioonthelist.

Sherinsedherlegandstood,turningtocleartheconditionerfromherhair,andthat’swhenshesawme.Asmileexplodedacrossher face,hernipples tightened,and in thatmoment Ialmost shattered theglassshowerdoortogettoher.

“Howlonghaveyoubeenstandingthere?”Ishrugged,lookingdownthelengthofherbody.“Suchacreeper.”“Stillacreeper,youmean.”Imovedalittlecloser,crossingmyarmsovermychestasIleanedagainst

thewall.“Whendidyougethere,yousneak?”“Aboutahalfhourago.”“IthoughtyoujustcaughtaplaneintheStates?Didyougobyportkeyafterall?”She laughed, tilting her head back under the showerhead for one final rinse, before turning off the

water. “I caught the first one I toldyou about. I thought itwouldbe fun tomislead and surpriseyou.”Taking her long hair in both hands, she pulled it over her shoulder and squeezed the water from it,watchingmewitheyesthatgrewincreasinglyhungry.“IthinkIwashopingyou’dcomehometofindmenakedintheshower.MayhavebeenwhyIsteppedintotheshower.”

“I’lladmitit’sprettyfuckingconvenientbecauseI’mreadytobenakedmyself.”Chloepushedopenthedoorandcamedirectlytome.“IwantedthatprettymouthonmeassoonasI

heardyouwereflirtingwiththeflowergirl.”Iscowled.“Ohplease.”AndthenIpaused.“Howdidyouknowaboutthat?”Shesmiled.“DominiquespeaksverygoodEnglish.Saidshegrewtiredofyourmopingandsentyou

downtherebecauseyou’resocutewhenyou’reannoyed.Iagreed.”“She—what?”“I’mgladyoudidn’tdecidetobringMathildebackwithyou,though.Thatcouldhavebeenawkward.”“Oritcouldhavebeenawesome,”Iteased,pullingheragainstmeandwrappingatowelfromtherack

aroundhershoulders.Ifeltthewaterfromherbreastssoakintomyclothes.She’shere.She’shere.She’shere.Ibent,brushedmylipsoverhers.“Hey,sweetheart.”“Hey,”shewhispered,wrappingherarmsaroundme.“Haveyoueverbeenwithtwowomenatonce?”

she asked, leaning back and running her hands up undermy shirt as Iworked to dry her off. “I can’tbelieveIhaven’teveraskedyouthat.”

“Imissedyou.”“Imissedyou,too.Answermyquestion.”Ishivered.“Yes.”

Herhandswerecoldandhernailsfeltsharpwhenshescratcheddownmytorso.“Morethantwoatatime?”

Shakingmyhead,Ibenttorunmynosealongherjaw.Shesmelledlikehome,likemyChloe:herownmildcitrusscentandthesoftnaturalsmellofherskin.“Weren’tyousayingsomethingaboutwantingmymouthonyou?”

“Specificallybetweenmylegs,”sheinstructed.“Iassumed.”Ibent,scoopedherup,andcarriedhertothebed.WhenIputherdownontheedge,shesatup,leaningbackonherhandsbehindher,pullingherfeetup

ontheedgeofthebed...andspreadherlegs.Shelookedupatme,andwhispered,“Takeyourclothesoff.”

HolyChristthiswomanwasgoingtokillmewithviewslikethat.Ikickedmyshoesacrosstheroom,yankedoffmysocks,andreachedbehindmetopullmyshirtovermyhead.Givingherafewsecondstoreacquaintherselfwithmybarechest,Iscratchedmystomachandgaveherasmile.“Seesomethingyoulike?”

“Arewegivingshows?”Herhandslippedoverherthighandbetweenherlegs.“Icandothat.”“Areyoufuckingkiddingme,”Ibreathed,fumblingwithmybeltbuckleandpullingthebuttonsofmy

jeansfreeinasinglemovement.Inearlyfellovertryingtogetthemoff.Her hand moved away, and then she reached both arms out for me. “On top,” she said quietly,

apparentlynotwantingmymouthafterall.“Overme,Iwanttofeelyourweight.”Itwasperfect,likethis,withoutpretense.Webothwantedtomakelovebeforewedidanythingelse:

lookingaround,eating,catchingup.Herskinwascool,andminestillfeltflushedfromthesun,myuphillwalkbacktothevilla,andthe

thrillofseeingherheresounexpectedly.Thecontrastwasastounding.Beneathmeshewasnothingbutsmoothskinandtiny,quietsounds.Hernailsdugintomyback,herteethslidovermychin,myneck,myshoulder.

“Iwantyouinside,”shewhisperedintoakiss.“Notyet.”Althoughsheletoutalittlegrowloffrustration,forawhilesheletmesimplykissher.Ilovedtheway

herlipsfeltonmytongue,thewayhertonguefeltagainstmylips.Iwasacutelyawareofeverypointofcontactbetweenus:herbreastsagainstmychest,herhandsonmyback,thetendonsofherthighspressingintomysides.Whenshewrappedherlegsaroundmine,hercalvesfeltlikeabandofheataroundme.Ireacheddownandwrappedmyhandaroundthebackofherknee,pullingithighertomyhipuntilIfeltmycockslideagainstherslickskin.

Beneathme,shearchedandrocked,gettingasmuchfrictionasshecouldwithoutmepushinginside.Kisseswould start tentative,maybeplayful, and thengrow intodeep, ravenous, archinghunger beforereturningtoslowandtasting.Sheletmepressherarmsoverherhead,letmesuckandbitehernipplesalmosttothepointofpain.SheaskedmewhatIwanted,whatfeltgood,andwhetherIwantedherbodyorhermouthfirst.Herfirstinstinctwhenwewerenakedwasalwaystopleasureme.

Thiswomanamazedme.I’dlostperspectiveonwhosheusedtobeoutsideofourrelationship.Withme,shecouldbeanything.Braveandafraidweren’topposite.Shecouldbesharpandtender,deviousandinnocent.Iwantedtobehereverythinginthesameway.

“Ilovethewaywekiss,”shewhispered,thewordscomingoutpressedagainstmylips.“Whatdoyoumean?”Iknewwhatshemeant.Iknewexactlywhatshemeant;Isimplywantedtohear

hertalkabouthowfuckingperfectitallfelt.“Ijustlovethatwekissthesame,thatyoualwaysseemtoknowexactlyhowIwantit.”“Iwanttobemarried,”Iblurted.“Iwantyoutomarryme.”Fuuuuuuuck.Andsomyentirecarefullyconstructedspeechwasthrownoutthewindow.Mygrandmother’santique

ringwasinaboxin thedresser—nowherenearme—andmyplantokneelanddoeverythingright justevaporated.

Inthecircleofmyarms,Chloegrewverystill.“Whatdidyoujustsay?”Ihadcompletelybotchedtheplan,butitwastoolatetoturnbacknow.“I knowwehaveonlybeen together for a little over a year,” I explained, quickly. “Maybe it’s too

soon?Iunderstandifit’stoosoon.It’sjustthathowyoufeelaboutthewaywekiss?Ifeelthatwayabouteverythingwedotogether.Iloveit.Ilovetobeinsideyou,Iloveworkingwithyou,Ilovewatchingyouwork,Ilovefightingwithyou,andIlovejustsittingonthecouchandlaughingwithyou.I’mlostwhenI’mnotwithyou,Chloe.Ican’tthinkofanything,oranyone,whoismoreimportanttome,everysecond.Andsoforme,thatmeanswe’realreadysortofmarriedinmyhead.IguessIwantedtomakeitofficialsomehow.MaybeIsoundlikeanidiot?”Ilookedoverather,feelingmyhearttrytojackhammeritswayupmythroat.“Ineverexpectedtofeelthiswayaboutsomeone.”

Shestaredatme,eyeswideandlipspartedasifshecouldn’tbelievewhatshewashearing.Istoodandranovertothedresser,pullingtheboxfromthedrawerandcarryingitovertoher.WhenIopenedtheboxand letherseemygrandmother’santiquediamondandsapphire ring,sheclappedahandoverhermouth.

“Iwanttobemarried,”Isaidagain.Hersilencewasunnerving,andfuck,I’dcompletelybotchedthiswithmyramblingnonsense.“Marriedtoyou,Imean.”

Hereyesfilledwithtearsandsheheldthem,unblinking.“You.Aresuch.Anass.”Well,thatwasunexpected.Iknewitmightbetoosoon,butanass?Really?Inarrowedmyeyes.“A

simple‘It’stoosoon’wouldhavesufficed,Chloe.Jesus.Ilaymyheartoutonthe—”Shepushedoffthebedandranovertooneofherbags,rummagingthroughitandpullingoutasmall

bluefabricbag.Shecarrieditbacktomewiththeribbonhookedoverherlongindexfinger,anddangledthebaginmyface.

IaskhertomarrymeandshebringsmeasouvenirfromNewYork?Whatthefuckisthat?“Whatthefuckisthat?”Iasked.

“Youtellme,genius.”

“Don’tgetsmartwithme,Mills.It’sabag.ForallIknowyouhaveagranolabar,oryourtampons,inthere.”

“It’saring,dummy.Foryou.”MyheartwaspoundingsohardandfastIhalfwonderedifthiswaswhataheartattackfeltlike.“A

ringforme?”Shepulled a small boxoutof thebag and showed it tome. Itwas smoothplatinum,with a lineof

coarsetitaniumrunningthroughthemiddle.“Youweregoingtoproposetome?”Iasked,stillcompletelyconfused.“Dowomenevendothat?”Shepunchedme,hard,inthearm.“Yes,youchauvinist.Andyoutotallystolemythunder.”“So,isthatayes?”Iasked,mybewildermentdeepening.“You’llmarryme?”“Youtellme!”sheyelled,butshewassmiling.“Technicallyyouhaven’taskedyet.”“Goddamnit,Bennett!Youhaven’t,either!”“Willyoumarryme?”Iasked,laughing.“Willyoumarryme?”Withagrowl,Itooktheboxanddroppeditonthefloor,flippingherontoherback.“Areyoualwaysgoingtobethisimpossible?”Shenodded,eyeswide,lipcaughtbetweenherteeth.Fuck.Wecouldsettlethislater.“Takemycock.”Ibent,pressedakissintoherneck,andgroanedwhenshereachedbetweenustogrip

me.“Guideitintoyou.”SheshiftedherhipsbeneathmeuntilIcouldfeelmyselfatherentrance.Islidintoherslowly,even

thougheverytendonandmuscleinmybodywanteditroughandfrenzied.Igroaned,shiveredontopofher,feelingmyselfsinkinside.

Shiftingmyhipsbackandthenforward,Ifeltherarmswraparoundmyneck,herfacepressintomyneckassherosetomeetmymovements.Ittookonlytwomoreshiftsofmyhipsbeforewegrewlouderandmorefrantic.

“Giveittome,”Iwhisperedintohermouth,lickingforward,asking.Iliftedherleg,pressedituptohersideandslidindeeper.MyeyesrolledclosedforabeatandIfeltlikeIwasabouttoexplodeinher.

Shepressedherheadbackintothepillow,partedherlipstogasp,andItooktheopportunitytoslidemytongueintohermouth,tosuckalittleonhers.“Thatokay?”Iwhispered,pressingintotheskinofherhipwithmyfingertips.She loved theedgeofpainandpleasure, that razor-sharp linewe’ddiscoveredearly on together. She nodded and I moved faster, fillingmy head with the smell of her. I tasted hercollarbones,herneck,bitamarkintohershoulder.

“Uphere,”shebreathed,pullingmebackuptoherface.“Kissme.”SoIdid.Overandoveruntilshewaspantingandsquirmingbeneathme,urgingmetomovefaster.I

feltherabdomentenseandthenherlegssqueezedhardaroundme,hercriessharpinmyear.Clenchingmyjaw,Ipushedmyownreleasetothebackofmymind,wantingmore,andlonger,andto

feelhercomingagainbeforeIwouldevenletmyselfdrifttowardorgasm.

Hercriesgrewlouder,andshescreamedandthengaspedandtriedtopullawaybutIknewshecouldcomeagain.Iknewshewassensitivebutshecouldtakemore.

“Don’tpullaway.You’renotdoneyet.Notevenfuckingclose.Givemeanother.”Herhipsrelaxedinmyhands;hergriptightenedinmyhairagain.“Oh.”Itwasjustabreathofasound.Therewassomuchcontainedinthatsingle,quietgasp.Ipressedcloser,holdingherhipsandtiltingthemwithmymovements.“That’sit.”“Coming,”shebreathed.“Ican’t—Ican’t—”HerhipsshookandIgrippedherashardasIdared.“Don’tyoufuckingstop.”“Touchme. . . there,”shegaspedandIknewwhatshewanted.Ikissedherneckbefore lickingmy

fingersandslidingthemtoherbackside,touching,pressing.Withasharpcryshecameagain,thecoiledmusclesbeneathherskintighteningallaroundmylength.

Takingadeepbreath,Iletmyorgasmunraveldownmybackandtearthroughme;lightburstsexplodedbehindmyclosedeyes.Icouldbarelyhearherhoarsecriesoverthepoundingofbloodinmyears.

“Yesyesyesyes...”shechanted,delirious,beforecollapsingontothepillowbeneathher.Itfeltlikethewallsrattledinthesilencethatfollowed.Everythinginmyheadshookwithneedforher;

itwasdisorienting.“Yes,”shegaspedonelasttime.Iheldvery,verystillasawarenessseepedbackintomythoughts.“Yes?”Thenwithherlimbsstilltremblingallaroundme,andbreathscomingoutinsharplittlepants,shegave

mearadiantsmile.“Yes...Iwanttobemarried,too.”

Acknowledgments

Thankyoutothereaderswhoalsowantedmorefromthesetwo.Yourtweets,FBposts,emails,comments,andreviewsmakeus feel likethe luckiestchicksoutthere,andwithoutyou,there isnoBEAUTIFULanything.

Thank you to Adam Wilson for having us howling in laughter while we were editing atmidnightonaTuesday.Fortwopeoplewhoclaimtobewriters,wearesurprisingly inarticulatewhenitcomestoexpressinghowmuchwevalueyourconfidenceinus.

ThankyoutoeveryoneatGalleryforbeinggameforoursilly,smuttywords.HollyRoot, thankyouforyourcalm,cool,collectedselfandforcontinuingto letusplay in

everysandbox.Andthankyoutoourfamilies,forbeingasexcitedforallofthisasweare.Lo,youputthe“ inmywords.Christina,youputthe ”inmystories.Raceyoutothe

tattooparlorinParis.

http://www.amazon.com/Beautiful-Bastard-ebook/dp/B009UVCYLS

I raceddown thedarkenedhall of thenow-emptybuilding, thepresentationmaterials clutchedhaphazardly inmyarms,andglancedatmywatch.Sixtwenty.Mr.Ryanwasgoingtohavemyass.Iwastwentyminutes late.AsIexperiencedthismorning,hehatedlate.“Late”wasawordnot found in the Bennett Ryan Dickhead Dictionary. Along with “heart,” “kindness,”“compassion,”“lunchbreak,”or“thankyou.”

So there Iwas, running through theemptyhalls inmy stilt-like Italianpumps, racing to theexecutioner.

Breathe,Chloe.Hecansmellfear.AsInearedtheconferenceroom,Itriedtocalmmybreathingandslowedtoawalk.Softlight

shone from beneath the closed door. He was definitely in there, waiting for me. Carefully, Iattempted to smoothmyhair and clothingwhile tidying thebundleofdocuments inmy arms.Takingadeepbreath,Iknockedonthedoor.

“Comein.”Iwalked into thewarmly lit space.The conference roomwas huge; onewallwas filledwith

floor-to-ceilingwindowsthatgaveabeautifulviewoftheChicagocityscapefromeighteenstoriesup. Dusk darkened the sky outside, and skyscrapers speckled the horizon with their lightedwindows. In the centerof the room stood a largeheavywood conference table, and facingmefromtheheadofthetablewasMr.Ryan.

Hesatthere,suitjackethangingonthechairbehindhim,tieloosened,crispwhiteshirtsleevesrolleduptohiselbows,andchinrestingonhissteepledfingers.Hiseyeswereboringintomine,buthesaidnothing.

“Iapologize,Mr.Ryan,”Isaid,myvoicewaveringwithmystilllaboredbreathing.“Theprintjob took—” I stopped.Excuseswouldn’t helpmy situation.Andbesides, Iwasn’t going to lethimblameme for something Ihadno controlover.He couldkissmy ass.Withmynewfoundbraveryinplace,Iliftedmychinandwalkedovertowherehesat.

Withoutmeetinghisgaze,Isortedthroughmypapersandplacedacopyofthepresentationonthetablebeforeus.“Areyoureadyformetobegin?”

He didn’t respond aloud, his eyes piercingmy brave front. This would be a lot easier if hewasn’tsogorgeous.Instead,hegesturedtowardthematerialsbeforehim,urgingmetocontinue.

I clearedmy throat andbeganmypresentation.As Imoved through thedifferent aspectsofthe proposal, he stayed silent, staring directly at his copy. Why was he so calm? His tempertantrumsIcouldhandle.Buttheeeriesilence?Itwasunnerving.

Iwasleaningoverthetable,gesturingtowardasetofgraphs,whenithappened.“Their timeline for the first milestone is a little ambi—” I stoppedmidsentence,my breath

caughtinmythroat.Hishandpressedgentlyintomylowerbackbeforeslidingdown,settlingonthecurveofmyass.IntheninemonthsIhadworkedforhim,hehadneverintentionallytouchedme.

Thiswasmostdefinitelyintentional.

Theheatfromhishandburnedthroughmyskirtandintomyskin.Everymuscle inmybodytensed,anditfeltlikemyinsideswereliquefying.Whatthehellwashedoing?Mybrainscreamedatmetopushhishandoff,totellhimtonevertouchmeagain,butmybodyhadotherideas.Mynippleshardened,andIclenchedmyjawinresponse.Traitornipples.

While my heart pounded in my chest, at least half a minute passed, and neither of us saidanythingashishandmoveddowntomythigh,caressing.Ourbreathingandthemutednoiseofthecitybelowweretheonlysoundsinthestillairoftheconferenceroom.

“Turnaround,MissMills.”HisquietvoicebrokethesilenceandIstraightenedmyback,eyesfacingforward.SlowlyIturned,hishandskimmingacrossmeandslidingtomyhip.Icouldfeeltheway his hand spread from his fingertips onmy lower back all theway towhere his thumbpressedagainstthesoftskinjust infrontofmyhipbone.I lookeddowntomeethiseyes,whichlookedintentlybackatme.

Icouldseehischestrisingandfalling,eachbreathdeeperthanthelast.Amuscletwitchedinhis sharp jawashis thumbbegan tomove, slowly slidingback and forth,his eyesnever leavingmine.Hewaswaiting forme to stophim; therehadbeenplentyof time forme to shovehimaway,orsimplyturnandleave.ButIhadtoomanyfeelingstosortoutbeforeIcouldreact.Ihadnever felt thisway, and Ihadneverexpected to feel this abouthim. Iwanted to slaphim,andthenpullhimupbyhisshirtandlickhisneck.

“Whatareyouthinking?”hewhispered,eyessomehowbothmockingandanxious.“I’mstilltryingtofigurethatout.”Withthoseeyesstilllockedtomine,hebegantoslidehishandlower.Hisfingersrandownmy

thigh,tothehemofmyskirt.Hemoveditupsohisfingertipstracedthestrapofmygarterbelt,thelaceedgeofonethigh-highstocking.Alongfingerslippedbeneaththethinfabricandpulleditdownslightly.Isuckedinasharpbreath,feelingsuddenlylikeIwasmeltingfromtheoutsidein.

HowcouldIletmybodyreactlikethis?Istillwantedtoslaphim,butnow,morethanthat,Iwantedhimtokeepgoing.Theheavyachebetweenmylegswasbuilding.Hereachedtheedgeofmypantiesandslippedhis fingersunderthefabric.I felthimslideagainstmyskinandgrazemy clit before pushinghis finger insideme, and Ibitmy lip trying, unsuccessfully, to stiflemygroan.WhenIlookeddownathim,beadsofsweatwereformingonhisbrow.

“Fuck,”hegrowledquietly.“You’rewet.”Hiseyesfellclosedandheseemedtobewagingthesame internal battle I was. I glanced down at his lap and could see him straining against thesmooth fabricofhispants.Withoutopeninghiseyes,hewithdrewhis fingerand fistedthe thinlaceofmypantiesinhishand.Hewasshakingashelookedupatme,furyclearinhisexpression.Inonequickmovementhetorethemoff,theripofthefabricechoinginthesilence.

http://www.amazon.com/Beautiful-Stranger-ebook/dp/B00A0BHS8Q

Whenmyoldlifedied,itdidn’tgoquietly.Itdetonated.Buttobefair,I’dbeentheonetopullthepin.InjustoneweekIrentedoutmyhouse,sold

mycar,andleftmyphilanderingboyfriend.AndthoughI’dpromisedmyoverprotectiveparentsthatI’dbecareful, itwasn’tuntilIwasactuallyattheairportthatIcalledaheadto letmybestfriendknowIwasmovingherway.

That’swhenitallseemedtosinkin,inoneperfectlyclearmoment.Iwasreadytostartover.“Chloe?It’sme,”Isaid,voiceshakingasIlookedaroundtheterminal.“I’mcomingtoNew

York.Ihopethejob’sstillmine.”Shescreamed,droppedthephone,andreassuredsomeoneinthebackgroundthatshewasfine.“Sara’scoming,”Iheardherexplain,andmyheart squeezed just thinkingaboutbeingthere

withthematthebeginningofthisnewadventure.“Shechangedhermind,Bennett!”Iheardasoundofcelebration,aclap,andhesaidsomethingIcouldn’tquitemakeout.“Whatdidhesay?”Iasked.“HeaskedifAndywascomingwithyou.”“No.”Ipausedtofightbackthesickfeelingcreepingupintomythroat.I’dbeenwithAndy

forsixyearsandnomatterhowgladIwastobedonewithhim,thedramaticturninmylifestillfeltsurreal.“Ilefthim.”

Iheardhersmall,sharpinhale.“Youokay?”“Better than okay.” And I was. I don’t think I realized exactly how okay I was until that

moment.“I think it’s the best decision you ever made,” she told me and then paused, listening as

Bennettspoke inthebackground.“Bennett saysyou’regoingtoshootacross thecountry likeacomet.”

Ibitmylip,holdingbackagrin.“Nottoofaroff,actually.I’mattheairport.”ChloescreechedsomeunintelligiblesoundsandthenpromisedtopickmeupatLaGuardia.I smiled, hung up, and handed the counter attendantmy ticket, thinking a comet was too

directed, toodriven. Iwas reallymore like anold star, out of fuel,myowngravity pullingmeinward, crushing me. I ran out of energy for my too-perfect life, my too-predictable job, myloveless relationship—exhausted at only twenty-seven. Like a star,my life in Chicago collapsedundertheforceofitsownweight,soIwasleaving.Massivestarsleavebehindblackholes.Smallstarsleavebehindwhitedwarfs.Iwasbarelyleavingbehindashadow.Allofmylightwascomingwithme.

Iwasreadytostartoverasacomet:refuel,reignite,andburnacrossthesky.

The clubwas dark, deafening, and filledwithwrithingbodies: on the dance floor, in the halls,against the bar. A DJ spun music from a small stage, and flyers plastered all across the frontpromisedthatshewasthenewestandhottestDJChelseahadtooffer.

JuliaandChloeseemedentirelyintheirelement.IfeltlikeI’dspentmostofmychildhoodandadultlifesofaratquiet,formalevents;hereitwasasifI’dsteppedoutofthepagesofmyquietChicagostoryandintothequintessentialNewYorktaleinstead.

Itwasperfect.I shovedmywayup to thebar—cheeks flushed,hairdamp, and legs feeling like theyhadn’t

beenproperlyusedlikethisinyears.“Excuseme!”I shouted, tryingtoget thebartender’sattention.ThoughIhadno ideawhat

anyofitactuallymeant,I’dalreadyorderedslipperynipples,cementmixers,andpurplehooters.At thispoint,with the club atmaximumdensity and themusic so loud it shookmybones,hewouldn’teven lookupatme.Admittedly,hewasslammedandmakingsuchasmallnumberoftediousshotswasannoying.ButIhadanintoxicated,newlyaffiancedfriendburningaholeinthedancefloor,andsaidgirlfriendwantedmoreshots.

“Hey!”Icalled,slappingthebar.“Sureisdoinghisbesttoignoreyou,in’the?”Iblinkedup—andup—atthemanpressedclosetomeatthecrowdedbar.Hewasroughlythe

sizeofaredwood,andnoddedtowardthebartendertoindicatehismeaning.“Youneveryellatabartender,Petal.Especiallynotwithwhatyou’regoingtoorder:Petehatesmakinggirlydrinks.”

Ofcourse. Itwouldbe justmy lucktomeetagorgeousman justdaysafter swearingoffmenforever.AmanwithaBritishaccenttoboot.Theuniversewasahilariousbitch.

“HowdoyouknowwhatIwasgoingtoorder?”Mygringrewwider,hopefullymatchinghis,butmost likely lookinga lot tipsier. Iwasgrateful for thedrinksI’dalreadyhad,because soberSarawouldgivehimmonosyllablesandanawkwardnodandbedonewithit.“MaybeIwasgoingtogetapintofGuinness.Youneverknow.”

“Unlikely.I’veseenyouorderingtinypurpledrinksallnight.”He’dbeenwatchingmeallnight?Icouldn’tdecideifthatwasfantastic,oralittlecreepy.Ishiftedonmyfeetandhefollowedmymovements.Hehadangledfeatureswithasharpjaw

anda carvedhollowbeneathhis cheekbones, eyes that seemedbacklit andheavy,darkbrows, adeepdimpleonhisleftcheekwhenthegrinspreaddowntohislips.Thismanhadtobewelloversixfeet,withatorsoitwouldtakemyhandsmanymoonstoexplore.

Hello,BigApple.Thebartenderreturned,thenlookedatthemanbesidemeexpectantly.Mybeautifulstranger

barelyraisedhisvoice,but itwassodeep itcarriedwithouteffort:“Three fingersofMacallan’s,Pete, and whatever this lady is having. She’s been waiting a spell, yeah?” He turned to me,wearingasmilethatmadesomethingdormantwarmdeepinmybelly.“Howmanyfingerswouldyoulike?”

Hiswordsexplodedinmybrainandmyveinsfilledwithadrenaline.“Whatdidyoujustsay?”Innocence.He tried it on, smoothing it over his features. Somehowhemade itwork, but I

couldseefromthewayhiseyesnarrowedthattherewasn’taninnocentcellinhisbody.

“Didyoureallyjustoffermethreefingers?”Iasked.He laughed, spreading out the biggest hand I’d ever seen on the bar just between us. His

fingerswerethekindthatcouldcurlaroundabasketballanddwarfit.“Petal,you’dbeststartwithtwo.”

I lookedmore closely athim.Friendly eyes, standingnot too close,but close enough that Iknewhehadcometothispartofthebarspecificallytotalktome.“Yougivegoodinnuendo.”

Thebartenderrappedthebarwithhisknucklesandasked formyorder. Iclearedmy throat,steelingmyself.“Threeblowjobs.”Iignoredhisirritatedhuffandturnedbacktomystranger.

“You don’t sound like a New Yorker,” he said, grin fading slightly but never leaving hisconstantlysmilingeyes.

“Neitherdoyou.”“Touché.BorninLeeds,workedinLondon,andmovedheresixyearsago.”“Fivedays,”Iadmitted,pointingtomychest.“FromChicago.ThecompanyIusedtowork

foropenedanofficehereandbroughtmebackontoheadupFinance.”Whoa,Sara.Toomuchinformation.Waytoenablestalkers.IthadbeensolongsinceI’devenlookedatanotherman.ClearlyAndyhadbeenamasterin

this kindof situation, but unfortunately I hadno ideahow to flirt anymore. I glancedback towhereIexpectedtoseeJuliaandChloedancing,butIcouldn’tfindtheminthetangleofbodiesonthefloor.IwassorustyinthisritualIwaspracticallyrevirginized.

“Finance?I’manumbersmanmyself,”hesaid,andwaiteduntilI lookedbackathimbeforeturning the smile up a few notches. “Nice to seewomen doing it. Toomany grouchymen introusershavingmeetingsjusttohearthemselvessaythesamethingoverandover.”

Smiling,Isaid,“I’mgrouchysometimes.Ialsoweartrouserssometimes,too.”“Ibetyoualsowearpants.”I narrowed my eyes. “That means something else in British, doesn’t it? Are you giving me

innuendoagain?”His laugh spread warm across my skin. “Pants are what you Americans so blandly call

‘underwear.’ ”Whenhesaid this, the“un”sounded likeanoisehemightmakeduringsex,andsomethinginsidememelted.WhileIgapedathim,mystrangertiltedhishead,lookingmeover.“You’rerathersweet.Youdon’tlooklikeyoucometothesekindsofestablishmentsveryoften.”

Hewasright,butwasitthatobvious?“I’mreallynotsurehowtotakethat.”“Take it as a compliment.You’re the freshest thing in thisplace.”Heclearedhis throatand

lookedtowherePetewasreturningwithmyshots.“Whyareyoucarryingall thesestickydrinksouttothedancefloor?”

“Myfriendjustgotengaged.We’redoingthegirls’nightoutthing.”“Sothenyou’reunlikelytoleaveherewithme.”Iblinked,andthenblinkedagain,hard.Withthisfranksuggestion,Iwasofficiallyoutofmy

depth.Wayoutofmydepth.“I...what?No.”

“Pity.”“You’reserious?Youjustmetme.”“AndalreadyIhaveastrongurgetodevouryou.”Hiswordsweredeliveredslowly,almosta

whisper,buttheyrangthroughmyheadlikeacymbalcrash.Itwasobvioushewasn’tnewtothiskind of interaction—the proposition of no-strings-attached sex—and although I was, when helookedatmelikethatIknewIwasboundtofollowhimanywhere.

Every shot I’d had seemed to hitme all at once and I weaved a little in front of him.Hesteadiedmewithhishandonmyelbow,grinningdownatme.

“Easy,Petal.”Iblinkedbackintoawareness,feelingmyheadclearslightly.“Okay,whenyousmileatmelike

that, I want to climb you. And God knows it’s been forever since I’ve been properlymanhandled.” I looked himup and down, all pretense of polite society apparently gone. “Andsomethingtellsmeyoucouldmorethandothejob—Imean,holyhell,lookatyou.”

AndIdid.Again.Itookasteadyingbreathandwasmetwithhisamusedgrin.“ButI’veneverjustrandomlyhookedupwithsomestrangeratabar,andI’mherewithfriends,celebratingtheawesomemarriagethey’regoingtohave,andso”—Igatheredupmyshots—“we’regoingtodothese.”

Henoddedonce,slowly,hissmileturningalittlebrighter,asifhe’djustacceptedachallenge.“Okay.”

“SoI’llseeyoulater.”“Onecanhope.”“Enjoyyourthreefingers,stranger.”Helaughed.“Enjoytheblowjobs.”

©ALYSSAMICHELLE2013

ChristinaandLauren,awritingduowhohavebeenswooningoverromancenovelsforaslongastheycanremember,aretheauthorsofBeautifulBastard,BeautifulStranger,andseveralupcoming titles intheirpopularseriesfromGalleryBooks.SeparatedbythepeskystateofNevada,theseco-authorbestiesspeakseveraltimesaday,agreethatRubyPumpsisthebestnailpolishcolorever,andwould,ifgiventhechoice, spendalldaystaringat theocean from theSanClementepier.Youcan find themonlineatChristinaLaurenBooks.comorat@seeCwrite&@lolashoesonTwitter.

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Thisbookisaworkoffiction.Anyreferencestohistoricalevents,realpeople,orrealplacesareusedfictitiously.Othernames,characters,places,andeventsareproductsoftheauthor’simagination,andanyresemblancetoactualeventsorplacesorpersons,livingordead,isentirelycoincidental.

Copyright©2013byLaurenBillingsandChristinaHobbsAllrightsreserved,includingtherighttoreproducethisbookorportionsthereofinanyformwhatsoever.ForinformationaddressGalleryBooksSubsidiaryRightsDepartment,1230AvenueoftheAmericas,NewYork,NY10020

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ISBN978-1-4767-5414-7ISBN978-1-4767-5172-6(ebook)

Contents

ChapterOne

ChapterTwo

ChapterThree

ChapterFour

ChapterFive

ChapterSix

ChapterSeven

ChapterEight

Acknowledgments

BeautifulBastardExcerpt

BeautifulStrangerExcerpt

AboutChristinaLauren