Judging by Winston’s face, I wasn’t welcome. Maybe I never would see the way his eyes brightened at the sight of me ever again. It was only when you lost something that you really started to notice how valuable it had been.

And I’d lost way more than I had ever bargained for.

There was a thin sheen of sweat on Winston’s brow, and I resisted the way my hand was drawn to it, wanting to touch him. I longed to feel his skin against mine, to wipe away the tension from his face and to kiss him gently.

But there was a time and a place when that would have been appropriate, and we were so far past that, all I could do was straighten up my posture in the chair and try to clear my throat. It didn’t really work, instead making a sound like I had choked back vomit.

The absurdity made me laugh a little, the nervous kind of laugh that comes out at a pitch ten times higher than you’d like for it to. I sounded like a maniacal child-sized clown.

And even though I was behaving so strangely, Win just stood there. The door swung closed behind him, and he turned his head towards me, but his feet stayed planted where he’d stepped. His eyes were wide and opened, arms held passively at his sides. No other reaction followed.

Had I broken him?

“Hey,” I ventured. It seemed so small and insignificant in the face of the epiphanies I’d had. But how could I convey that in a single greeting? Especially when Winston didn’t exactly look happy to see me. I didn’t regret travelling here. I just wasn’t sure what I expected it to do for me.

For us.

Win scanned me from hair to shoes, narrowing his eyes as if he couldn’t believe that I was actually here. As if he’d seen a ghost pretending to be me and needed to remain skeptical or he’d shatter.

I knew the feeling, having had my emotions dashed to a thousand pieces when I got the job. The permanent contract I was now cursing myself for pursuing so single-mindedly.

“I need to apologize to you,” I said. Again, my voice wasn’t my own. It was softer and more hoarse, the strain of the experience drawing down my power so that I seemed like half of my normal self. I slipped my feet onto the ground and stood, padding along the hardwood to stand across from him. From the only man I’d ever truly known.

“Ok,” said Win, finally. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, glancing around the room as if he needed to come up with an escape plan. The tension in his neck saddened me, reminded me of how much I’d hurt him. It looked like it physically pained him to be in the same place as me.

Kaycee, you don’t deserve him.

I still had to try, though. If I didn’t, if I just went back to Los Angeles without having said my bit, I’d never get a full night’s sleep ever again, no matter how cushy a mattress I could afford with my permanent lawyer gig.

“I love you,” I said, my voice stronger now. I channeled everything I had into that sentence, needing Winston to hear how much I meant it. How much he meant to me.

Though his eyes widened, he didn’t say anything. At first.

“You say that now?” he said, hands curling up into fists at his sides. “I’ve been in agony for weeks, living with the ache, the fact that you let me say that to you and that you didn’t feel the same way.”

“That’s not true,” I said. “I do.”

He sighed in a burst of frustration, stepping closer. I couldn't help it—I reached for his cheek with my hand, a gesture that made Win flinch and lean back to escape me.

That hurt.

“How do I know that it’s not just you trying to get me to be your emotional punching bag again? That you don’t just miss having someone to lean on when times get tough, and then when your job needs you again, you scram?”

He had every right to be angry, I knew that. Still, sadness flooded my body to see it. So much of the time I’d spent with Win had been happy. I wasn’t accustomed to having him upset with me.

“I can’t stand that we aren’t close anymore, Win,” I said. I tried to quieten the rushing white noise in my head from his words. “And that’s not me asking for my friend back, though I want that, too.”

I saw the way his face was contorted, as if he were fighting himself as I spoke.

“What exactly do you want from me?” he said. I felt the warmth of his breath, Win stepping closer, the blue of his eyes vibrant at this distance.

“I want to be with you. For real. I want your love, your feelings, your body, all of it. And your friendship. I lived for years knowing you, seeing you all the time and I can’t believe it’s taken me all this time to realize how much I care. How much I want you.”

With a swift movement, Win grabbed me by the arms, his hands tight against my skin. Almost too tight, clearly still coursing with frustration at the turn of events. Still, my body responded to his closeness and touch by melting almost instantaneously. When I looked up at him, I knew my eyes were already tinged with lust.

I could see him melting, too.

“You really hurt me,” he said. He must have taken me in his arms to convey the point, but all I could concentrate on was the way his hips were just within reach, how I could feel the warmth of his body heat from here.

“Mmm,” I moaned, trying to think of words. Anything I could say now would be better than nothing. Only, the few words I could think of were dirty…

“I’m still angry with you, K,” he said. There was definitely an edge to his voice, absolutely tension in his body. I knew he meant what he said. But I also knew that underneath the anger, there was a new layer of intrigue, of hope. Maybe even desire, too.

“That’s ok,” I managed to murmur. “I deserve it.”

And when I smiled at him, I couldn’t help the way it turned sultry, wasn’t able to resist pulling him closer by the front of his shirt when I spoke. As if a light had turned on, I saw his eyes brighten. His pupils dilated.

“Well, then,” he said, his voice thick and growing lustful. It had a quickening effect on my already eager body, making my skin tingle and my thighs clench. Winston leaned to my ear and whispered in it. “I guess we’ll have to think of ways I can make you repay me.”

I grinned and went to the door, locking it with one hand while I ran the other along his arm. The muscles bulged from the exertion of the show still, tight and delicious underneath my fingertips. I could feel the excitement in the dressing room build, tension crackling between us like the moments before a thunderstorm.

Win turned and pinned me against the door, a bulge in now palpable through his jeans, though his eyes were flashing a strange combination of lust and softness.

“K,” he said, leaning in close so that his forehead touched mine. “Are you serious about this?”

My mouth was so dry from nerves, I just nodded, trying to preserve whatever dignity I had left.

And in that instant, the vulnerability in Win’s eyes was so obvious. “Good,” he said. “Because I couldn’t stand it if you were messing with me.”

In a split second, the moment of openness was gone and he composed himself. He was all lust, all edge, all rock and roll. And I fucking loved it. Winston pressed himself against me, grinding so that I could fully appreciate the growing hardness in his pants.

“Feel how much I want you?” he whispered, the warmth of his breath causing stars to sparkle up my neck and ear.

It was so good to be close to him again; I wanted to bury my face in his chest and inhale the scent of him, to grab his broad shoulders and feel the dense musculature of his back, to sit there gazing into his eyes and tell him about my life without him, if you could call it that. Lust won out, though.

There could be time for other things later, if he’d have me.

I needed him inside me as soon as possible, that much was sure.

“I want you too,” I said. “More than anything.”

“That so?” he growled, a dominant edge to his voice. “Show me.”

I didn’t need to be told twice; I let myself respond to the way he was taking charge, let my body warm and welcome him. Winston’s hand rubbed down the side of my body to my hip, and then dug into my skin with a hungry squeeze. While he did this, I blinked up at him, smiling and biting my lip.

Without further conversation, I sank to my knees in front of him, appreciating the view for all it was worth before I unzipped his jeans. Win stared down at me with a reverent lust in his eyes, but when he spoke, it was all business.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” he said.

We weren’t just Winston and Kaycee anymore, we were the sum of all of our histories: from eager teenaged lovers to the tightly-knit friends we’d been for years to the murky, sexually fiery near-present. And now, they all combined into one potent mix, a collapsed timeline that made me want Winston all the more. I could only assume he felt the same way.

As I undid Winston’s jeans, he thrust against me, hips bucking from the anticipation of what was to come.

“Easy there,” I said, and he put a finger in my mouth to shut me up. I nipped at it, unwilling to be anyone but myself.

And the truth was, I was a pretty damn ferocious person around Winston. Lucky for me, he liked it.

“She bites,” he said, laughing slightly. “Quite the fiery redhead.”

“Not too fond of stereotypes, though,” I said. From this angle, Win’s eyes were darkened, almost navy. I could see the length of his deep brown eyelashes, the firm ridges of his abs and pecs. I wanted to devour him.

So I did.

Within the first few moments, Win said nothing, only breathed a gasping reaction to suddenly being in my mouth. Then, I started to roll my tongue, swirling and bobbing in the way that I knew he liked.

His warm hand met the back of my head, and Win and I started to move in unison, his gently thrusting hips gaining speed just as my hands and mouth did.

“Oh god,” he groaned. “K, you’re the one.”

“Mmm,” I moaned in response. Words would have to wait.

But I knew what I’d heard.

All this time, we’d been close. Boyfriend and girlfriend, or just friends, Winston had been a part of my life for so long that I hadn’t been able to process the grief of pulling apart these last few weeks. In this split second, though, it was all worth it for the clarity it had given us.

I knew that I wanted to be with him, and only him.

He was throwing back his head and whispering about how I was the one.

I increased the speed of my attentions, loosening my jaw as much as I could to bring him deeper, closer to his peak. I could feel the way he was losing some of the control over his thrusts even now. Once I moved to push him further into my mouth, Win groaned a wordless cry of pleasure.

He was close.

He might have thought that this was a way to exorcise some of the angst he’d felt over my rejection of his feelings a few weeks earlier, might have planned that he’d be dominant and I’d be contrite. But with his length in my mouth and hands, his palm caressing the back of my head as he moaned in pleasure, I felt that I’d gotten the upper hand somehow.

Or maybe it was reductive to think that there was such a power play involved at all. Maybe what mattered was that he’d moved past the anger, the pain, and was almost vibrating with the happiness and pleasure that I was giving him.

It felt good to be in a position to make him feel that way, unabashedly enjoying the process, rather than second guessing myself or stewing in guilt.

I wanted Win Sargent and Win Sargent wanted me. Simple as that.

With a flurry of movement and Win’s hips bucking beyond his control, he came. I felt each convulsion as he did so, relished the groan that he released as he rode the wave of pleasure, his hand still tightly pressed against my head. Finally, when he was spent, he met my eyes again.

“Made it up to me, hey?” he said.

He couldn’t make a joke out of this situation, though. I was still too turned on, too emotional to let him reduce it into a hilarious set of circumstances he could pretend weren’t as meaningful as they were.

I wiped my mouth and stood, suddenly noticing just how much I wanted him to touch me back. It was a desperate, deep-seated need, radiating from between my legs even though it represented more than just a physical desire.

I wanted Win to be a part of my life just as much as I wanted him to shove himself inside me and fuck me until I screamed. I could want both those things and not overthink it: that was a major lesson I needed to internalize.

Maybe I was getting somewhere.

“Win,” I said, lacing my arms around the back of his neck once he’d zipped up his jeans, “You’re the one for me, too. And I’m so goddamn embarrassed I didn’t know it, or realize it, when you said you loved me. I hope you can forgive me.”

He paused, pulse still racing so that I could see his nostrils flare with passion.

“I already have,” he said. And he kissed me.

Words were no longer necessary: we had touch, we had fire, we had each other. To think that I’d been convinced my job was more important than this incredibly precious human made me want to scream at my past self.

Luckily, my mouth was too busy doing other things. Win’s lips were soft, and tasted lightly malty. I found the top of my head tingling with a dizzy feeling of lightness as we touched, as if each time Win’s lips pressed against mine, I had a little shot of adrenaline punch into me.

Win pushed me up to the wall again, his hands still cupping my face tenderly even as I tried to grind against him. Finally, he slipped his right hand down the front of my pants, his eyes trained on mine with a determination that made me gasp before he even reached underneath my underwear.

Then I gasped again.

“Win,” I said. “What do we tell the others?”

He just smirked for a second, teasing me gently with both his fingers and his silence. “Don’t worry about that right now,” he said. As he spoke, he whispered in my ear just close enough that I could feel his lips brush against my ear on certain syllables.

My eyes pressed shut from the dancing pleasure of his fingertips, and I forgot the concerns I was trying to voice. They weren’t important.

Nothing was important except the connection between us right now, the blazingly white hot charge, built up through the years until we almost exploded from it. Somehow, the sex we’d had before didn’t satiate my hunger for Win, and in fact had often stoked the flames even further.

Now that I knew we could be together, really be together, it felt different. Deeper. Stronger. More weighty in a way that made eye contact with Win almost too intense to bear, though I craved it.

“I’m going to want you to do that again and again and again,” I whispered to him, arching my back to meet the way his hands were making me feel.

“Good,” he said. He leaned down and kissed my neck, nipping at my skin gently between his teeth. He drew his hands up and massaged my breasts. “Because I’m going to want to do it again. And again. And again.”

With each ‘again,’ he moved lower on my body, until he kissed the skin just above my belt. Win glanced up at me, irises the kind of blue that shone in the sky half an hour before sunset, his expression a brilliantly glowing happiness I’d never seen from him before.

And then he peeled off my pants, leaning in close to lick me before I had a chance to say I could lie down on the couch.

“Ahh!” I gasped instead, throwing my head back and pressing my hips up to meet him. My hands found the back of his head, fingers curled into his thick hair, hips tilting to allow him better access to my body. Not that his tongue needed that much in the way of encouragement.

He resurfaced for a moment. “And again,” he said, winking, before he plunged back to lick me more, to add his fingers into the mix so that I moaned in spite of myself.

Win paused. “And again,” he said.

“And again,” I whispered, caressing his cheek with my right hand while I kept my eyes closed, savoring the sharp, hot sweetness of the moment while my Winston made me feel like I was the only girl in the entire world.

Maybe I was, for him.