I’m in the apartment, putting the finishing touches on Carole’s dinner of pork stew and quinoa. Eden disappeared during our final two classes of the day, and she’s still not home. She hasn’t answered my texts, either.

Finally, she arrives, literally dancing into the kitchen. “What happened?” I say. “Where did you go?”

“I can’t tell you, not yet.” She’s beaming as she starts to set the table.

“Eden, come on.”

“Nope. Not until Daddy’s home.”

I’m dying of curiosity, but I can see she’s in a mood, so I let it go. Her mention of her father has the familiar tangle of nerves jostling around my stomach. I hope I’ll be able to eat.

This morning, Ashton looked as miserable as I felt. Maybe it was just my imagination, but I don’t think so. Does he feel as guilty as I do? Is he wrestling with the same desires?

Don’t think about him. Don’t think about any of it. I finish fixing a green salad and set it on the table just as Ashton comes in.

He’s carrying a large cardboard box. “Here,” he says, offering it to me. What on earth?

Taking it from him, I set it down, open it … and clap a hand over my mouth to keep from bursting into tears. “What is it?” Eden demands, and peers over my shoulder. “Dad! You got Tori’s stuff back!”

“The landlord auctioned off your belongings. So I bought them. I thought you’d want your family photos back, at least.”

“I can’t – this is –” Overwhelmed, I throw my arms around him. He goes still for just a moment before he hugs me back. “Thank you. So much.”

“You’re welcome,” he says gruffly, and sets me gently away from him. “Is dinner ready?”

“All set,” Eden says with a grin. “This is a real red-letter day.”

“Really?” Ashton says. “Why is that?”

She just smiles like the Cheshire Cat. Finally, when we’re all seated at the table, she makes her announcement. “There’s a special training program in Milan, and I’ve been chosen for it!”

“Eden!” I lean over to hug her. “That’s fantastic. Congratulations!”

“Well done, sweetheart.” Ashton smiles at her, full of fatherly pride, and kisses the top of her head. “Next summer?”

“No, it’s right away. I fly out on Monday!”

I freeze. Fortunately, Eden’s focused on her father, not me. I don’t dare let myself look at Ashton.

Alone? With him? I clear my throat. “How long does it last?”

“Two weeks.” Eden’s face is glowing. “Two whole weeks in Milan, can you imagine?” She squeezes my hand. “I wish you were coming too, but I’ll take as many pictures as I can. And videos.”

I keep the smile on my face through sheer willpower. “You’ll have such a great time. It’s wonderful.”

Two weeks. How on earth am I going to resist Ashton for two whole weeks? But maybe I won’t have to.

Our dinner conversation is all about Milan, the program, the instructors Eden will be working with. Every time I make eye contact with Ashton, apprehension and anticipation dance a pas de deux down my spine.

After dinner, Eden rushes off to pack, leaving me with Ashton. I have to say something. “I can go somewhere else,” I tell him, even though I have nowhere to go. “I’ll move out until she’s back.”

His eyes flash at me. “The fuck you will.”

Oh, my. My nipples go hard at his rough tone. “You should be here,” he adds, his voice rasping across my skin, and I almost melt into a puddle.

We don’t say another word as we tidy up the kitchen, but just being near him makes my skin tingle.

I’ll have to be strong. I possess enough discipline to be attending one of the top ballet schools in the country; surely I can say no to these inappropriate urges for two weeks. I’ll just imagine Eden’s face if I had to confess.

As soon as I’m in bed, though, my good intentions prove as flimsy as a chip of ice dropped into hot water. They melt away, leaving nothing behind but the ache between my legs and the need to assuage it.

My hand goes straight inside my panties this time. I’m already damp. I imagine Ashton with me – forceful, demanding, controlling – and in seconds I’m slippery wet.

“Ashton,” I gasp as my fingertips rub frantically over my clit. My legs move restlessly as pleasure winds through me, twisting and tightening in my core, taking me higher and higher until I’m teetering on the edge of release.

My fantasy Ashton looms over me. You’re mine, he growls. I need to be inside you.

“Oh, yes, Ashton. Please.” So close …

Spread your legs so I can fuck you, he orders, and I come harder than I ever have in my life. The climax shreds me, wracking me so hard I almost cry out.

“I’m sorry, Eden,” I whisper afterwards, when I’m curled on my side again. “I just can’t help it.”

Silence is my only answer.