Ozzie grabs one of the two pillows on his double bed and an old comforter with cartoon planets and spaceships on it. He tosses them on the floor and crouches, thumping the pillow before laying down. The carpet is plush and not the hardest surface to sleep on, but it’s a far cry from a bed. He doesn’t want the bed? Fine. I don’t care right now. I’m quite happy I’m not on the floor. I only offered to be polite. I would have slept there, mind you.

He leaves the bed with a thin sheet and a soft yellow blanket. I normally sleep in pajamas, but I’m in sweats and that’s close enough. But I yank off my sweatshirt so I’m in a tank top. I stare down at him as he rolls to face away from me toward the door. Curled up in his blanket, he looks awfully cute. The blanket makes him seems boyish. Innocent. And it almost makes me forget that he’s purposely trying to hurt me.

I pull the sheet back and slide inside. I reach over to the lamp on the table beside his bed and switch it off. At first, the room is pitch black. I stare up at the ceiling and see nothing, but eventually my eyes adjust and I can almost make out the shapes of the glow in the dark stars and moon that have lost their luster. I bet when he initially put them there, they glowed brightly. It would have been like looking up at the real stars. It makes me think of my dad. When he lived at home, he had a big, thick telescope in his office, and when there were meteor showers or anything big happening in the sky, he’d make time for us to watch. Even if I had to stay up way past bedtime.

On the floor, Ozzie huffs and puffs as he rolls around. He punches his pillow a few more times. It’s a little over the top, enough for me to think he wants the bed, no matter what he said ten minutes ago.

“I told you that you can have the bed,” I say quietly.

“I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor. Mary would never let me hear the end of it.”

“She doesn’t have to know.”

He coughs and clears his throat. “She’ll know.”

“Then just get in the bed. I’ll stay on my side if you promise to stay on yours.” I roll my eyes, and though he can’t see me, I’m so frustrated that it comes across in my voice.

He shuffles around before rising to his feet. He must have peeled off his jeans while he laid on the floor because he’s only in his briefs and an old, raggedy T-shirt. He pulls the sheets back and crawls in, rolling away from me again. We lay side by side in silence. I try and give him half of the bed, but it’s tight. He’s a big guy and spills over. The tip of my right toe touches his leg. It’s chilly in here and he’s so warm. But I pull it away, just because I’d rather do it than have him do it to me.

It’s late. My mind is racing. I’m still upset and angry, but this might very well be the last time I spend one-on-one time with Ozzie, and the realization quickly softens me and causes a heaviness in the middle of my chest. I don’t want us to part on bad terms. I don’t want him to be angry when he thinks of me. He meant something to me, and I know I did, too.

I roll onto my side, facing him. We’re cheek to cheek, barely touching.

Is he asleep yet? I don't think so. But I don't want to check, and it's hard to find my voice when I’m choked up. I had such high hopes for us. Deep down I didn’t think it’d work, but by God, I hoped to be proven wrong.

“I like Mary,” I blurt out, hoping to have a conversation without him growling at me.

“Mm hmm.”

“She’s really nice.”

“Go to sleep, Charlie.”

My heart drops a little, and I close my eyes tight. My stomach is full of rolling waves. Tomorrow can’t come fast enough.

I dream of being alone in a house, an unknown house, though it feels like it’s mine. In the window, I see the outline of a woman. She’s smiling at me. I approach her but stop when she flashes me a wicked smile. Her teeth are bright white and her incisors are sharply pointed. She hisses at me and screams at me in a deep voice to let her in. I shake my head and tell her to go away, but she slams her hands onto the pane and screams at me. Over and over again. Then a crack begins in the glass, streaking outward like a spiraling web. She slams her fists into it again and it shatters. I shriek before screaming, “Help! Please! Help me!”

“Charlie, Charlie,” a voice says, but I’m alone in this strange house. “Charlie!”

I snap out of the dream and grip the wrist of an arm. It’s Ozzie's arm. I stare at him wide-eyed, expecting to see the woman’s face, for the nightmare to return or morph into something even scarier. It takes me a moment to look around the room and realize where I am and who I’m with. “You were screaming in your sleep. And hissing. Are you okay?”

I nod as I try to take deep breaths to slow my heart. There is a thin layer of perspiration on my skin, and I'm so hot I feel like it’s the dead of summer. I kick off the sheets and turn onto my back.

“That must have been some dream,” he says, propping himself up on an elbow.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

I shrug, my shoulders sliding along the soft sheets. “No, I don’t think so. It was nothing, really.”

A long silence passes between us. He’s on his back now too, his hand close enough for me to feel its heat but not his skin.

“I like the stars,” I say.

“I was afraid of the dark. When I closed my eyes, I used to see the flames of the fire. The night my family died, the flames cut through the darkness like a knife. I still see those orange and red lights today. Still taste the smoke in my mouth as it choked my lungs. I was the only one they pulled out. Sally’s room and mine were on the second floor, but she must have gone downstairs and crawled into my parent’s bed in the middle of the night. They couldn’t get inside the first floor because the fire was too big. They only just got me out.”

“Sally was your sister?”

He clears his throat, and after a long pause he whispers, “Yes.”

There is so much emotion in his voice and it chokes me up. I want to talk about her, but I don’t think he’s ready and I don’t want to push him. After swallowing a hard lump in the back of my throat, I say, “Do you ever wish they hadn’t got you out?”

He thinks about it, though I’m pretty sure he already knew his answer. “Not so much anymore.”

“I’m glad.” I take a breath and reach for his pinkie finger, holding my full hand around it. I squeeze lightly. I don’t know why. Maybe he won’t reject me if it’s only one finger. Stupid, I know. “Can I ask you a question?”

He huffs at me. “Of course. That’s your job, isn’t it?”

I turn my head to him and frown. I can’t be sure if he sees my expression or not. He let his walls down again for a moment only to throw them back up.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” His voice is steel.

“You were so wonderful when we first met. I’d never met a guy who ever made me feel special like you did. I do one thing wrong, which I apologized for, and it’s like a switch flipped inside of you. It’s like all you want to do is make me suffer.” I breathe in, my voice a little shaky. “I’ve had too many people make me feel like I don't matter and I don’t need anyone else to add to the list. I said I was sorry, and if you can’t forgive me then…well, just stay away from me. I was fine before you, and I’ll be fine after you.”

“I really like you, Charlie. If you didn’t mean a damn to me, I wouldn’t have been so pissed off at you. But I’m stuck in a hard place now because I can’t let myself trust you and I’m not ready to let you go.”

“You don't have to. You could forgive me.”

“I don’t give second chances. It’s not the way I’m built.”

I roll over and gently put my hand on his chest. I focus on his eyes, the whites pale in the darkness. “Then please stay away from me. You’re not doing either of us any favors.”

His hand slides across his chest and covers mine. “I could have fallen for you, Charlie. In a heartbeat.”

“I guess we’ll never know.”

My stomach muscles clench. My heart pounds in my chest, and I lick my lips as his hand slides up along my bare arm and finds my back. Gently, he rubs circles along my cool flesh and I close my eyes, enjoying every stroke of his fingers. This doesn’t feel like goodbye, but maybe it’s because I don’t want it to be.

“I really want you right now,” he says.

“In the world of mixed signals,” I say, “that ranks pretty high.”

He sighs heavily. “Why did you have to lie to me?”

“I told you. I liked you from the beginning. I knew when I told you who I was you'd avoid me, and I didn’t want that. I don’t want it now.”

He grips the back of my neck and massages my tense muscles. Slowly, he skims his hand along my hair before cupping the side of my face. His calloused thumb roughly strokes my cheek, and I welcome the gentle burn. I turn my head to kiss his palm, my lips lingering long enough to taste the acrid soap from the bathroom. Then I rest my face against his hand again, this time nuzzling it with my cheek. Lost in the moment, my body relaxes, and I melt against him. But then my brain kicks in and screams words of caution. A war exists within me. We want each other, this much is clear. And even if he won’t let himself have more than tonight, I don’t really care right now. The throbbing ache between my legs demands I ignore my brain and let him touch me.

“I told you I can’t give you another chance.”

“I know,” I say, my voice suddenly husky. “But I don’t care. If I can’t have forever, then I’ll have to make the most out of tonight.”

“And that’s it? We walk away? You won’t think of me as the guy who fucked you and left you?”

The word fuck coming out of his mouth does strange things to me. I’ve always thought of myself as the good girl. The girl who’d never talk dirty or who would enjoy a guy talking dirty to her, but his crass talk has my panties wet. I roll over so I’m straddling him. His cock is hard beneath me, straining against his briefs, and I can feel every inch of him beneath my jogging pants. I slide along the length of him, pressing in hard until I’m tender and my body is alive with electricity.

His breathing hitches. He grips my ass hard, squeezing as he helps me move my hips. I let go of a quiet groan, and he raises his upper body to meet mine. He reaches for the hem of my tank top and pushes it up along the curves of my waist and rib cage, his fingers sliding against my flesh. It tickles me, but not in a way that makes me laugh. It makes me hungrier for him, and I quicken my speed as I rock.

He unclasps my bra and drags the straps down my arms. My breasts spill out in his face and he opens his mouth wide to take one in, his tongue flicking out to taste my nipple. I moan again, this time louder. His hand covers my mouth, silencing me. With his other hand, he reaches to grip the side of my breast. With slow, thoughtful strokes, he circles my nipple with his tongue like he’s licking ice cream from a dripping cone. I’m so wet I'm afraid of soaking through my panties and leaving a stain on my pants. I slow to a stop and lift my hips. His hands release my mouth and my breast and then he lowers his hands to slide his thumbs into the elastic waistband of my pants. I rise up on my knees to help him pull them down, but he goes straight for my wet, throbbing pussy. I soak his fingers as he slides one into me, and then another. I let out another moan, but he doesn't care this time. One hand stays planted on my ass while the other pumps me, stretching me with yet another finger.

“I want you,” I cry, “all of you.” I reach down, fumbling with his underwear, desperately attempting to pull them away from his shaft. He shakes his head at me, his eyes dark and focused. He pulls his fingers out and grips my arms as he rolls us over with me landing on my back. While one hand holds my wrists together above my head, the other whips off his underwear in one coordinated movement that makes me wonder if he was ever a gymnast in addition to a hockey star.

“Don’t move your hands,” he says.

“Please,” I beg. I want to touch every inch of him.

“Don’t make me tie them down.”

Desire consuming me, I find another way to touch him, wrapping my legs around his middle while he yanks his shirt up and over his head. His hair is messed, and it looks crazy sexy. Oh, how I want to run my fingers through it. Maybe tug it while I kiss his full lips. He leans back and I let go, my legs falling to the side but when he grips my panties he forces them to close as he drags the fabric along my legs. He stares at my bare pussy, and I move my hand to my inner thigh, delicately stroking my soft skin. He licks his lips, his erection growing even harder. “Fuck,” he whispers. “Keep doing that.” He reaches over to the night stand and pulls out a condom. He rips the top off the silver package and rolls it on quicker than I can let out a frustrated sigh. God, I want him so badly I can barely see straight. I start to lower my arms to touch his face, but then I remember his orders, and it surprises me how much I want to obey them. Maintaining control over all aspects of my life is instinctual, and it’s a welcome reprieve to give a man control in the bedroom.

He takes my hips and pulls me up and forces me to roll over. I think he wants me on all fours but when I try to do that, he pushes on my back so my face is on the bed, to the side, and my ass is in the air. He caresses my bare ass. I feel his rock-hard erection press between my cheeks. I push back, begging him to enter me, but he holds back. Instead, I feel his wet tongue against my lips. I gasp, not expecting this. He delicately licks me, causing me to clench and tighten my muscles for fear of coming right then and there. It’s almost too much for me as jolts of electricity shoot from my core out to the tips of my fingers and toes.

I bite my lip, praying I can keep quiet. The last thing I want is for Mary to hear us, but I think it might be too late for that, though neither of us seems to care enough to stop. Or we’re just too horny and into the moment to let ourselves.

His tongue circles my clit and I whimper.

“Does this feel good?” he whispers, his breath cool against my sweet spot.

“Yes,” I whisper.

He dips his finger in again while his tongue lashes at my lips and clit. I turn my head to smother my cries in the sheets as every muscle inside of me comes alive, tensing in unison until I crash into a million pieces. My body goes limp, and I feel my legs sliding down so my hips are on the bed, but he won’t allow it—he’s not finished with me yet. Good God. I may pass out. He holds me up and drives inside of me, one long hard stroke that has me biting my lip so hard I taste blood. He pulls out to the tip and slams into me again. The bed creaks and the headboard taps the wall. He lets out a heavy breath and slams into me again and again until his body jerks and his cock pulses inside of me. He leans forward, his hands on my back. He tries to get his breath before he pulls out and collapses onto the bed beside me.