Two days after that night with Sean, I asked John Cooper out.

I didn’t normally do that sort of thing. In fact, I’d never done that sort of thing. I completely supported women asking men out whenever they wanted, but it didn’t feel natural to me personally.

But after two days thinking about Sean and how we’d been together on Wednesday, I knew I had to take action before I got myself into an emotional tangle.

I’d made decisions a long time ago. I’d fallen in love with John on the first day I met him. And these confusions about Sean would fade away as soon as I was once again focusing on my priority.

John was my priority, and nothing about that had changed.

So I did something I never thought I’d do. I was desperate enough to take a real step. At the end of the workday on Friday, I stopped by John’s office and asked if he wanted to grab some dinner.

I purposefully made it casual, spontaneous, like it wasn’t a big deal. It felt like a big deal to me. I was so nervous my mouth was dry and my hands were freezing. I managed to get the words out though, and from John’s friendly expression, I must have sounded basically normal.

He looked surprised, but he said, “Sure. I don’t have any plans.”

And that was it.

I was going to dinner with John after three years of wanting to.

We went to a little French place just down the block from work, and we kept it easy and casual.

The truth is, I was so focused on containing my excitement and not sounding like I was totally besotted or completely boring that the whole thing ended up being stressful rather than fun.

But it went fine. Perfectly fine. At the end, John leaned down to give me a little kiss just beside my mouth and said we should do this again.

I couldn’t ask for more than that, after forcing the issue the way I had.

It felt like I was outside my body, watching myself say goodbye to him, and when I got into my car at last, I closed my eyes and groaned as I was finally able to relax.

It was good.

It was really good.

It was what I wanted.

And I could hardly compare one after-work dinner to my nights with Sean. True, the conversation hadn’t been nearly so engaging. And true, I hadn’t been able to relax and really be myself the way I was with Sean.

But I could hardly expect it to be the same.

I had no expectations of Sean. I knew exactly what we were together. With John, I was constantly hoping, waiting, wishing for something specific. It would change, get better, if we were in a real relationship.

I knew it would.

For one thing, I wouldn’t be constantly overwhelmed with jitters whenever I was with him.

After reassuring myself of all these truths, I went home, feeling like the evening had been a success.

I’d thought I would think about John before I went to sleep that night, but my mind kept drifting back toward Sean.

I hoped he was feeling better.

I hoped he wasn’t sad.

I hoped he wasn’t still grieving for the woman he’d loved and lost.

I wondered how he’d act when I saw him again—a week from next Wednesday.

It seemed like a long time to wait.

***

Two Wednesdays later, I was leaving my office and thinking about Sean when a voice stopped me in the hall.

I turned to see John approaching me. He was leaving his office too, based on the fact that he was carrying his briefcase, and he joined me on my way to the elevator.

“You look really pretty today,” he said with a slow smile.

I glanced down at myself, blushing at the compliment. I’d had enough energy to wear a skirt today—a charcoal-gray one—and I’d paired it with a cashmere sweater set instead of my normal suit jacket. I also had on my pretty pinkish-buff heels and a pearl necklace I’d inherited from my grandmother.

I felt like I could belong in Mad Men, and I kind of liked the feeling. John’s was the fourth compliment I’d gotten today.

“Thank you,” I told him. “That’s nice of you to say.”

“You want to grab a drink?”

I glanced at my phone to check the time and hesitated. I had forty-five minutes before my regular meeting time with Sean. “It will have to be quick. I’ve got plans later.”

He didn’t look concerned by this piece of news. If I’d hoped he’d be jealous by the possibility of my having a date, I was to be sorely disappointed. “No problem. We can go to the bar downstairs.”

We’d had drinks a couple of times after work since that Friday I’d asked him out, and it was nice that he wanted to keep seeing me, even in such a casual way.

We went to the bar, and John bought us both drinks. He ordered me an Amaretto Sour without asking. I’d had one last time, but I was going to get something different today. He didn’t give me a chance though, and it wasn’t a big enough deal to make an issue of.

The bar was crowded for happy hour—filled with people like us who had just gotten off work downtown—so an intimate conversation was impossible. We chatted casually, and I smiled a lot, and I was pleased to discover I wasn’t having such an out-of-body experience this time.

We both had two drinks, and by the time we were leaving, I could say for sure that John appeared interested in me. I caught quite a few admiring looks on his part.

I could also say for sure that he wasn’t as smart as Sean.

Again, it wasn’t a fair assessment. No one was as smart as Sean. I’d never met anyone else who could talk like him and think like him and put pieces together the way he did.

I didn’t want or need John to be at Sean’s intellectual level.

It was just an observation that I couldn’t help but make.

I did feel a little strange, leaving John after getting another, slightly more lingering goodbye kiss and walking a block down to the hotel where I was going to have sex with Sean.

I’d never juggled two men before.

Women did it all the time. I had no commitments to either one of them. But it still felt odd to me.

If things got serious with John, I’d definitely end my Wednesdays with Sean. But we weren’t there yet, and I didn’t want to throw something good away if there wasn’t a sure thing to replace it.

So I went straight to the hotel and arrived about ten minutes later than usual.

I knocked at the hotel room door and had to wait for a minute before he answered the door. I discovered why when I saw Sean was wearing a bathrobe.

He must have used the extra time to take a shower.

“You’re late,” he said by way of greeting. He wasn’t frowning though. His mouth was turned up in a little smile, and his eyes were teasing.

I raised my eyebrows. “I think you’ve been late before, if I remember correctly.”

“Did work run late?”

I went over to the table with the wine, and I dropped my bag onto the floor. “Just got a slow start coming over here.”

I didn’t add any more information. I’d intended to tell Sean that I’d had a drink with John earlier, but when the time came to do so, it didn’t feel natural.

I wouldn’t lie to him. That wouldn’t be right. But I wouldn’t volunteer the information that I’d been with John just now and that was why I was late.

I studied his face as he came to sit down in the other chair at the table, tightening the tie to his robe. He looked a lot better this week, without that haunting ache I’d sensed in him two weeks ago.

In fact, he appeared to be in a very good mood, if his dancing eyes and the twitching of his mouth was any indication.

“How’s everything with you?” I asked, not sure how to broach the topic of his mood.

“Good. I’m good. No falling apart for me tonight.”

My smile faded slightly. “You didn’t fall apart last time.”

He gave a half shrug. “Maybe. But I promise I’m good today.”

“Good.” I searched his expression, but he didn’t seem to be beating himself up about his behavior last time, despite his self-deprecating comment.

He seemed… almost excited, like something good was going to happen.

I really wanted to know what it was, but I couldn’t figure out a way for me to ask.

He went on, his face sobering a little as he spoke, “I think the two-year mark was particularly hard because… because I’m starting to forget.” He paused and added, “Not that I’ll ever forget her. I’m just not thinking about her all the time anymore.”

I hadn’t expected this kind of admission, and it made my heart jump almost painfully. I murmured, “I can understand that. It’s been two years.”

He nodded, not meeting my eyes now. “It’s hard though. After holding on for so long. I go… days now without even thinking…”

He didn’t finish the thought. He didn’t need to.

“You can’t feel guilty about that, Sean. It’s been two years. Eventually everyone has to heal.”

He nodded again, still not looking at me. He was silent a long time until he finally breathed, “I guess maybe I am.”

I didn’t know if he was talking to me or talking to himself. It seemed like a revelation to him either way.

“That’s good.” The words were too trite to answer what he’d said, but there weren’t any better words in such a situation.

He lifted his eyes and smiled at me, and the emotion relaxed between us.

I sipped my wine, feeling relieved at the change in mood and just a little disappointed at the same time.

“I see you’ve got a Man Men thing going on today,” Sean murmured after a minute, his eyes running up and down my body from my heels to my hair.

I actually gave a little gasp, so surprised was I at how he’d voiced something so close to my thoughts earlier in the day. “I wasn’t intentionally going for that,” I explained. “It just kind of turned out that way.”

His little smile broadened irresistibly. “I like it.”

“Thanks.”

His eyes were still restless, running over my face and body. His smile turned into a thoughtful frown.

“What is it?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious, despite my pleasure at his appreciation for my appearance.

“You look… different. I don’t know.”

I wondered if he could somehow sense that my romantic dreams were starting to come true—at least the very first steps toward them. Surely that wasn’t visible on my face. “I don’t think I’m different.”

“How would you know?”

“Well, I’m me. If anyone knows if something different about me, surely it would be me.”

He was smiling again, as if he liked this slightly garbled response. “Maybe.”

“Stop grinning like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like a cat who got into the cream, as my grandmother used to say.”

His green eyes transformed from amused interest to something deliciously heated. “Do you have something else in mind for my mouth to be doing?”

Despite my attempt to stay cool and lofty, my cheeks flushed hot. “I don’t know. I could maybe think of a few things.”

He stood up and extended a hand toward me. I reached mine out to meet it, and he pulled me to my feet. “Maybe you can show me what they are,” he murmured.

I had no objections to that plan.

In fact, my whole body tightened with excitement.

We stood for a minute, holding hands, and I experienced the strangest clench in my chest. It wasn’t nerves. It wasn’t arousal. It was something else, and it was caused by the look in Sean’s eyes and the way his warm hand felt around mine.

For a moment I was hit with another one of those flickering visions where I could see myself somewhere else. I imagined myself in a room like this, standing like this, but it was John who had that look in his eyes, John whose hand was holding mine.

I’m a pretty good imaginer, but I couldn’t quite wrap my head around that visual. It didn’t feel real to me the way this did.

The realization was troubling.

“What is it?” Sean asked softly, drawing his eyebrows together.

I smiled and gave my head a little shake, dismissing the vision and the reflections that had come with it. “Nothing.”

He was still frowning, as if it bothered him that he couldn’t tell what I was thinking.

As if he had any right to see into my soul.

He didn’t.

We had a contract, and soul-searching wasn’t one of the clauses.

“Ash?” he prompted.

My name was Ashley. No one called me Ash. No one but Sean.

“Nothing,” I repeated, telling myself to get it together, or my enjoyable night of sex, food, and stimulating conversation would be ruined.

When Sean kept studying my face, I knew I had to move us past the weird moment. So I stepped closer to him, took his head in both my hands, and pulled him down into a kiss.

That got things moving in the right direction. Sean took control of the kiss almost immediately, sliding one hand down to the small of my back and pressing my body closer to his. When he deepened the kiss with his tongue, I lowered my hands to tug at my cardigan until I could slide it down my arms and drop it on the floor.

I wore a matching sleeveless sweater underneath it, and Sean took care of that one quickly by grabbing the bottom and breaking the kiss so he could pull it off over my head.

Today I was wearing a lavender bra, and Sean stared down at it for a few seconds with hot appreciation on his face before he pulled me back into a tight embrace.

We kissed for a few minutes, during which we managed to get rid of my shoes and skirt. Sean was still wearing the bathrobe, and I was starting to get rid of that when he grabbed me unexpectedly, swung me up into his arms, and carried me over to the bed.

I gasped at the sudden movement, clutching at his neck with both hands. I’m not particularly heavy, but I’m also not a wisp. I’ve got solid bones and muscles and some extra padding, and I’m not in the habit of men carrying me, even for a few steps.

In fact, I’d never imagined that anyone would.

So I was breathless and disoriented in Sean’s arms like this. I wanted to tease him or make a joke or anything to sustain a light, familiar mood between us, but I couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

Sean was smiling as he lowered me onto the bed.

I wanted to ask him why he’d done that.

I wanted to make some sort of ironic quip.

I wanted to do anything other than gaze up at him with wide, bewildered eyes the way I was sure I was doing.

Sean’s smile turned into something almost tender as he lowered himself onto the bed and moved over me.

My breath—and any word I’d been trying to say—caught in my throat.

He kissed me, saving me the trouble of finding my voice, and then he raised his head to let his lips trail across my flushed face and then down to my neck. I wore my bra and panty set and my pearl necklace. Nothing else.

He clearly liked what he saw.

Once again, I opened my mouth to attempt something clever, but he kissed me before I could.

Not that I was in a fit state to think of anything clever to say anyway.

We kissed for a long time, the weight of Sean’s body pressing into mine in a way I couldn’t help but love. He was so warm, so solid, so… not a flimsy fantasy that dispersed at the first gust of wind.

I wasn’t sure where that thought had come from, but it distracted me briefly from my enjoyment of the kiss.

Sean evidently could since my distraction. He lifted his head and frowned, his face only inches from mine. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. Really.”

He didn’t believe me. “Are you feeling uncomfortable… about last time?” The smile in his eyes had faded into something thoughtful and sober.

“No, of course not.”

“Are you sure? I know I was… intense. I hope it didn’t mess things up between us.”

I could suddenly see what he thought had happened. He was afraid I’d gotten scared that he’d made things too serious between us. He thought I was being skittish because of that.

And I wasn’t.

Not really.

I was feeling skittish, but I didn’t know why.

“I won’t be that way again,” he murmured. “I promise. It was just a… fluke. One bad night. I think that was the worst of it. That’s not the way I really am.”

Had I been feeling the way he thought I was feeling, what he’d said would have been exactly right. It would have eased my concerns about things between us jumping into intimacy, when that wasn’t the way we were supposed to be together.

But that wasn’t the way I was feeling.

Not really.

So his words just made my stomach twist even more.

“Ash?” he murmured, his voice thicker than before.

“Yeah.”

“Tell me what’s bothering you.”

I would have told him had I been able to put it into easy words. But I wasn’t even sure what my problem was. It was like I had this tangled mess of emotions, and they’d gotten knotted inside me so tightly that I couldn’t begin to straighten them out. “It’s nothing important.”

“If it’s holding you back, then it is important.”

“I’m not holding back.”

He arched his eyebrows, and that felt like a challenge. So I did the only thing left for me to do in the face of such a challenge.

I pulled his head back down into another kiss.

And that worked. I was immensely relieved when Sean stopped talking and focused on kissing me again.

The kissing lasted longer than I expected it to. He was never lax in the kissing department, but he usually got excited and moved to other parts of my body pretty quickly. Tonight, though, he didn’t seem to be in a hurry, even though I could feel him growing erect against my belly.

I relaxed and enjoyed the skill of his mouth and tongue—and his hands which were doing very nice things to the parts of my body he could reach—until I felt that knot inside me start to tighten again.

Then I raised my hips to rub myself purposefully against his erection, causing him to break the kiss and groan.

After that, he moved things along. He lowered his mouth to my neck and then my breasts, teasing my nipples through the lace of my bra. Then he trailed kisses even lower—to my belly and then to the top edge of my panties.

When he flicked his tongue between my legs—just thin fabric between him and my hot arousal—I bucked up my hips involuntarily.

He made a soft growling sound. It was a new sound from him, and it made my whole body clench hard.

He chuckled, evidently pleased with this response, and gave me a soft nip through my panties.

I gasped and arched up, grabbing for his head with both hands.

His hands moved to the sides of my underwear, and I knew he was about to slide them off. Then he would move his head back between my legs. Then he would do something to me that he’d never done before.

I knew what was coming. And I wanted it desperately.

But it also made that knot of emotion inside me tighten and twist until I could barely breathe.

It wasn’t rational, but it didn’t matter. It was real, and I had to act on it or else do something I didn’t want to do.

I tugged at his hair, and he lifted his head to meet my eyes.

I shook my head.

He drew his eyebrows together again. “Really? I was going to—”

“I know.”

“You did it for me last week.”

“I know. And you can do me some other time.” I tried to keep my voice light, as if it were no big deal. “I’m not in the mood for it tonight.”

“Okay,” he said softly. “But you do want to…”

“Have sex with you? Of course I do.” The naked seriousness of the conversation was making me nervous, so I pitched my voice lighter to add, “Am I crazy? You think I’d miss out on sex with Sean Doyle?”

To my relief, he didn’t continue the conversation or interrogate me about my reasons. He gave me a little smile in response. He did seem more sober underneath the smile than he had before—as if some of that excitement I’d sensed in him earlier had dimmed—but he got back to business quickly. He kissed his way up my body until he’d reached my mouth again.

I felt better after that. Things felt more familiar.

He spent a while on foreplay, teasing and fondling me until I was breathless and rocking restlessly beneath him. Then he took off his bathrobe and reached for a condom on the nightstand. He’d kept my bra and panties on, and he just moved my underwear aside so he could enter me.

It felt full and familiar and deeply pleasurable, and I wrapped my legs around him in response to all those feelings. He was kissing me again as he started to move, rocking into me rhythmically, making all of me feel so good.

It felt so good.

So good.

So good.

My mind couldn’t really process anything else, except how much I wanted Sean like this, kissing me, moving inside me, his bare skin pressed against mine, the heat from his body reaching me, filling me.

“Oh Ash,” he rasped, breaking the kiss and tilting his head down toward my neck. His speed had started to accelerate.

I whimpered and squeezed my legs around him, meeting his motion with little thrusts of my hips.

“Ash. Baby.” His was breathing fast and hard against my throat.

I hadn’t been close to orgasm the moment before, but suddenly I was. It coiled inside me so quickly it was startling. I gave a ragged sob and dug my fingernails into his back.

“Yeah,” he huffed, his hips working urgently. “Yeah. Come. You can come for me. Fuck, you’re always so…. So good. So good. So good.”

I was right on the edge now, and I was chasing it eagerly. I was riding him from below with all my strength, shamelessly taking what I needed.

And Sean was giving it to me. In his motion, in his words, in the way he’d poured himself into this one act we were sharing.

My body clamped down around his penetration as I fell over the edge.

I cried out loudly as I came—no inhibitions left, not even the ones that recognized that we were in a hotel. And Sean was right behind me, as if he’d been holding out just for me. His exclamation of release was as raw as mine, and his body jerked and shuddered as he rode it out to the end.

It took a while for us to come down, and even then we still didn’t move. His body was hot and relaxed and heavy, and for some reason I wanted to feel it that way, feel how he’d taken his pleasure in me, found release in me.

But almost as soon as my body had softened deliciously, that knot in my belly tightened even more.

For the first time in the three months I’d been spending these nights with Sean, I wondered if I should have been doing it.

I hated myself for even asking the question. Sean and I had always been open and honest about what this was.

But John was who I’d always loved.

I’d been with John just over an hour ago.

And it was Sean who was panting against my neck, nuzzling my hair, pressing his weight into me, still buried inside my body.

There was something inside me that couldn’t be torn in two like this.

It wasn’t in my nature.

It might not have been wrong for everyone, but it was wrong for me.

I shifted uncomfortably until Sean finally heaved himself up and rolled off me.

I got up immediately and stretched out my hand toward me. “I’ll take that if you want.”

He took care of the condom and handed it to me, but his eyes were studying me closely, far more sober than he’d been before.

I escaped into the bathroom.

I sat on the toilet for a long time, rubbing my face and trying to pull myself together.

It felt like I’d made a decision.

It felt like something had ended.

Something I didn’t want to end.

I still had no idea what I was going to do when I stood up, washed my hands and face, and then went back into the bedroom.

Sean had put the bathrobe back on, but he was still stretched out on the bed.

He sat up as I approached.

“You okay?” he asked, his eyes never leaving my face.

“Yeah,” I told him with a smile. Until I could work things out in my own mind, I couldn’t tell him anything. “I’m good.”

I didn’t know if he believed me when he stood up and went over to his mostly empty glass of wine. He filled it back up with the bottle, and then he gestured toward my glass, which was sitting beside it on the table.

I shook my head. “I’ve had enough.”

He pulled his eyebrows together in that thoughtful frown I’d already seen several times this evening. “Really? You didn’t even finish your glass.”

“Yeah, I know. But I had a couple of drinks earlier.”

The words lingered in the air for far longer than they should have.

You see, there are these moments in relationships, in regular interaction with other people, where you say certain things. And on one hand, it’s just a normal thing to say, everyday conversation. But on the other, you know what you’re doing in the very back of your mind.

You know what’s going to happen after you say it, and you say it anyway.

Because part of you—even if it’s a tiny part of yourself you prefer to believe doesn’t exist—wants it to happen.

That was why I’d mentioned so casually that I’d already had a couple of drinks.

Because I wanted to say something.

Because I wanted Sean to know something.

Because I knew where this night would ultimately end, even though most of me didn’t want to actually go there.

Sean had grown very still, the bottle of wine still in his hand. “When did you have drinks earlier?” he asked at last. “Didn’t you come straight from work?”

“Y-yeah.”

He shot me a quick look.

I gave a little shrug, feeling surreally like I was reading lines that someone else had written a long, long time ago. “I had a couple of drinks at the bar in my building after work. What’s the big deal?”

“Why did you have drinks when you were coming here?” Sean still hadn’t put down the wine bottle. He was gripping it so hard his knuckles had whitened.

I gave him an exasperated look. “Am I not allowed to have drinks when I want to?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I had a couple of drinks with John,” I bit out. “Is that what you wanted to know?”

Slowly—very slowly—Sean put down the bottle. “You had drinks with the jackass. Before you came here.”

I made a frustrated sound. “His name is John. You know that very well.”

“And you had drinks with him. After work today.”

“Yes. I did.”

I was starting to feel a little guilty, and it made me furious. I could acknowledge to myself that it didn’t feel right for me to love John and fuck Sean at the same time. I was allowed to make that decision for myself.

Sean wasn’t allowed to make it for me.

Sean wasn’t allowed to have any say at all in who I loved or what I did with my body.

Sean wasn’t allowed to make me feel guilty.

We weren’t in a relationship.

We had a fucking contract.

I stood up and glared at him coolly. “What exactly is your problem? Am I not allowed to have drinks with who I want?”

“That’s why you were late?” Sean’s voice was still soft. Too soft. Unnaturally soft. As if he were reining in something powerful by nothing more than his self-control.

“I was only a few minutes late. You’ve been late too. So tell me exactly what your problem is.” I was clenching my hands at my sides and—ridiculously—I wanted to pound on Sean’s chest.

I’m a fairly even-tempered person, and I seldom lost control. I couldn’t remember the last time I was so angry.

Sean said, “My problem is that every other Wednesday you’re with me.”

“I’m here with you.”

“But you were with him earlier.” His green eyes had narrowed into something hard and fierce and breathtaking. “Did you fuck him?”

I gasped. “It’s absolutely no business of yours if I fuck him.”

“On these Wednesday nights it is.”

He meant it. He seriously believed that every other Wednesday evening was somehow sacrosanct, somehow belonged to him.

And it made me feel even angrier and even more irrationally guilty.

“No, it isn’t,” I snapped. “We signed a contract that states very clearly that we have absolutely no say in what the other person does outside this room. I can fuck whomever I want, whenever I want.”

“So you are fucking him?” There was an edge to his voice that was utterly terrifying.

“You’ve known I was in love with John from the very beginning. You liked that. You liked that I was in no danger of falling for your irresistible self and wanting more than you could ever give me. You liked it. That was why you wanted to do this with me and not with someone else. So don’t you dare act like I’ve sprung something on you or treated you unfairly.”

He just glared at me, breathing heavily.

“You can’t have it both ways!” I burst out, at the very end of my patience. “You can’t have a casual affair at your convenience and still act all macho possessive if I spend time with someone else.”

“I’m not trying to have it both ways. You can do what you want, except on every other Wednesday night. These Wednesday nights are mine.”

Ridiculously, the last words and the rough texture in his voice made me shiver in primal pleasure. But I didn’t let it distract me. “Nothing about me is yours.”

These Wednesday nights are mine.

The words were still shuddering through me, even as I made my decision.

I released an exasperated sound in my throat at Sean’s frozen figure and angry expression. Then I reached down and picked up my skirt and sweater set from the floor where we’d dropped them earlier.

I was still wearing my bra and panties, so I pulled my top on over my head and then yanked up my skirt.

“You’re leaving?” Sean asked, his voice soft and rough as he watched me get dressed.

“Yes, I’m leaving. What do you expect?”

“So we have one argument and you decide this is over?”

“It’s not just one argument. It’s you acting completely unreasonably. It’s proof that things have gotten too complicated between us to keep fucking the way we’ve been doing. Neither one of us wants a serious relationship with each other, so there’s no reason for us to keep going through the motions.” I was bending over to put on my shoes as I talked.

“Going through the motions.”

For a moment it sounded like I might have hurt him, so I straightened up and gave him a quick look.

He looked nothing but tense and angry, which relieved a new sort of tension in my heart.

“So that’s it?” he demanded as I smoothed down my skirt and reached for my bag.

I sighed and let go of some of my anger. “Yes. That’s it. I think it’s pretty clear that this is over.”

As if he were responding to my release of anger, his expression relaxed slightly too. “Is that what you think?”

These Wednesday nights are mine.

“Yes, it’s what I think. It’s what’s going to happen.” I was more tired now than angry, and I was trying to hold back what felt like a loss. “I’ve had a good time with you. Seriously. But I think this thing has run its course.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think it has.”

That was all it took for me to tighten with resentment again. “It’s not for you to decide. I’m saying it has. I won’t be here two weeks from now.”

“I will.” Something strange had happened to his demeanor. I’m not sure how to describe it, but it was like he’d managed to swallow up all the passion raging inside him and put it back in its place. He was almost smiling now, ironic and confident and just slightly bitter. “I’ll be here, for when you change your mind.”

I let out a little burst of uncontrolled sound. “I’m not going to change my mind.”

“We’ll see.”

These Wednesday nights are mine.

I couldn’t stop hearing those words in my mind.

I would have given him a proper goodbye and thanked him for the good time I’d had—for three months now—but his smug attitude was just too infuriating.

He thought he knew me.

He thought I was at his beck and call.

He thought I couldn’t do without the hot sex he offered.

He was wrong.

So I didn’t say anything at all as I slung the strap of my bag over my shoulder and walked out of the room.

Sean didn’t follow me.

He didn’t say anything.

His posture felt tense to me, but his expression was nothing but relaxed and arrogant.

And he called John the jackass.

I rode down the elevator feeling sick to my stomach and a little sore between my legs.

It had only been a few minutes ago when Sean had been moving inside me. We’d been as close as two people could get.

But only physically.

And that just wasn’t enough for me.

I wanted love. I wanted a real relationship. I wanted a man who could give me everything, not hold back his heart because it had been wounded in the past.

Sean could never give me what I really needed.

And I was tired of settling for second best.