I couldn’t stay away from him.

Not for one more day, much less three more days. How in the hell did we go ten years?

Our marathon phone call last night had left me feeling kind of desperate. I’d stayed up half the night going over everything we’d said, how he’d looked, how we’d ended the conversation. Could he really be serious about waiting until Saturday?

I’d looked up his address the previous night. It took all my self-control not to drive to Baltimore and sit outside his house, just to be close to him. I shook my head at myself. I’d always felt everything intensely, but these stalker tendencies were new.

I hatched a plan at work on Wednesday. He wanted dinner, drinks and dancing? I’d bring them to him and even tuck him in at his regular bedtime.

After my last client left, blow-dried and happy, I cleaned up my station and ran to my apartment to grab my Bluetooth speakers and change clothes. Then on the way to Baltimore, I picked up Chinese takeout and drove to Will’s house. It took me forever to find a parking spot, but I finally parallel parked like the boss that I was, then hiked three blocks to his house. And I got more than a few looks because of what I was wearing.

I stood in front of his house, nervous. I’d wanted to see him so badly that I hadn’t really thought of how he’d react to me randomly showing up at his place. I thought he’d be happy to see me, but what if I screwed up everything before we even really got started?

And that was my mom’s voice whispering those doubts. I rolled my eyes, kicked those thoughts straight to the curb, took a deep breath, and rang his doorbell.

He must have seen me through the peephole, because he yanked the door open, a wide grin on his face.

“Annie!”

I bit my lip. “Hey, Will. I was just in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d stop by…”

He grabbed my arm—my hands were laden with bags—and pulled me inside.

I laughed and held up the heavy paper bag I was holding. “You’ve probably already eaten, but I brought Chinese food.”

He took the bag from me, and then with his other hand behind my neck, pulled me close and kissed me soundly, shutting off all of my nervousness and trepidation with the press of his lips on mine.

“I have eaten, but I could always go for a little more.” Holding my hand, he led me through his narrow living room into his kitchen.

“This is super cute,” I said, turning in a tight circle to see the whole area. The shaker-style cabinets were cherry stained and the L-shaped counter was a very pale gray granite. It wasn’t big, but it was obvious it had been remodeled recently.

Will set the bag of food on the counter and I placed my tote bag next to it.

“Thanks, I did a lot of the work myself,” he said.

He started to step toward me, a possessive look in his eyes, but then he saw what I wore on my feet and stopped short.

“The boots…” he murmured.

I twisted one leg back and forth and grinned. “Sadly, they’re not the originals. Pretty similar though, right?”

I’d loved the blue patent leather boots I wore to prom, but I’d left them behind when I moved out of my parents’ house. A couple years ago I happened upon a very similar pair and had to have them. They’d been tucked away in my closet for the right occasion since then, and tonight was finally their time to shine. Instead of wearing a dress, I had on cut-off jean shorts and a plain white T-shirt.

Will walked around me, checking me out from every angle.

“Fuck,” he gritted out, so close behind me I felt his words on the back of my neck.

“I know you wanted dinner, drinks and dancing, so I brought it to you,” I said.

He moved back in front of me and slipped his arms around my waist. “You are a breath of fresh fucking air.” He nuzzled the side of my neck. “To tell you the truth, I was tempted to drive to your place tonight.”

I circled my arms around his neck and played with the hair at the base of his hairline. “I think we should just do what feels right. It definitely didn’t feel right not to see you for a week.”

“Nope, it didn’t.”

I kissed his scruffy cheek and breathed him in. “You smell like flour,” I murmured.

“Hazard of the profession.” He pulled back and hit me with a crooked smile. “What was that about dinner, drinks and dancing?”

We sat at the tiny dining room table tucked between the kitchen and living room with bowls of wonton soup and plates piled with half of the Chinese restaurant’s menu. For someone who had already eaten, Will really packed it away.

“Do you ever bake for fun, or does it feel like work now?” I asked, then popped a piece of kung pao chicken into my mouth.

“Nah, baking will always be fun. I mean, the business side of it can be a fun-sucker, but most days I feel like I’m livin’ the dream.”

Will had loved cooking and baking since forever. Even at fourteen, he’d spent his weekends creating new recipes, and I’d spent my weekends sitting at his family’s kitchen table watching him. He’d bring me cookies and treats to school, and for every one of my birthdays we spent together, he made me a gorgeous, elaborate cake.

Looking back, how I hadn’t seen that he was in love with me is beyond me. The way he took care of me and made me feel special was well past friendship. But I’d been young and dumb then. Now, if he even felt a fraction of the same way, I’d guard it carefully, like a match on a windy day. I knew how lucky I was to have this man back in my life. It scared the hell out of me that I’d screw it up—and me being me, there was a strong chance of that—but I had to try with him.

“I hope you’ll bake me something soon. I miss your concoctions.”

He chuckled. “I will. I haven’t gotten the chance to make a birthday cake in a while. Maybe I’ll make you one.”

“My birthday’s nine months away! I can’t wait that long!”

He nudged my foot with his. “Well then it’ll be a reunion cake. Or an ‘I kissed Annie for the first time in ten years’ cake.”

I laughed and took a long pull from my beer bottle. “Will you let me help make it?”

He snorted. “Remember what happened the last time you helped?”

I held up a finger. “Hey, salt and sugar look very similar! I’m sure it’s a very common mistake!”

He shook his head and grinned. “Remember my dad’s expression when he bit into it?”

“Uh-huh. I hadn’t known until that point that a person could literally turn green. Poor Mr. Diaz.”

“He still talks about that.”

“I bet. Tell him I’m still extremely sorry.”

Our laughter died down and Will tracked me with his eyes, following each small movement with interest.

“I think I was promised dancing,” he said softly.

“And dancing you shall have,” I replied just as softly.

I pulled my phone and speakers out of my tote bag. “I made a senior-year playlist.”

“Oh, yeah? Can’t wait to hear this.”

I set up my phone, cued up the first song, and stood, holding my hand out to Will.

“May I have this dance?” I asked.

He placed his hand in mine, then pulled me against him, one hand on the small of my back, the other cradling my hand between us.

When “Sex on Fire” by Kings of Leon began to play, he kept his eyes on mine and moved us in a rhythmic sway. The song wasn’t a slow one, but we set our own pace. Will rocked to the beat and our hips rolled together so sensually my goddamn sex was a blazing inferno.

“Did we dance to this at prom?” he asked.

“Mm-hmm. I think this song was part of what led to what happened after prom.”

He hummed for a beat. “Yeah, it does set a certain mood, doesn’t it?”

In my heeled boots, I only had to tilt my face up to meet his lips. The song switched to something by The Killers, but the music faded into the background of our kiss.

Will’s hands tangled in my hair while I gripped his shoulders. I couldn’t seem to get close enough, even with his tongue in my mouth and the fronts of our bodies pressed so close I felt the thud of his heart through my chest.

I pushed my hands up the back of his T-shirt and soaked in the warmth of his skin. I trailed my hands up his back, from the narrow of his waist, outward to the broad expanse of his shoulders, and then back down again. I dug my fingertips into the taut muscles, but still it wasn’t enough.

I ripped my mouth away from his and yanked off my shirt. He watched me through glazed eyes as I reached behind me and unhooked my bra. My body moved on pure instinct and need. The deep, base part of myself screamed out for him. Pressing my bare skin to his felt as necessary as taking my next breath.

I’d let Will take the lead so far, but my desire for him couldn’t be reasoned with or slowed down. I wish I could say it was the song that had started the frenzy within me, but this was years in the making. I’d wanted to take him inside me again since the second he softened and slid out of me the first time.

Back then those feelings of longing and need had been too powerful to deal with. But now? I channeled every ounce of that need into kissing him and showing him with my body how much I wanted him.

Will pulled his shirt over his head and closed the sliver of space between us, and our skin finally, finally, touched. I sighed, a sense of sweet relief washing over me.

“You feel so good,” I whispered.

He ran his rough cheek over my collarbone and shoulder, one hand spread wide across my waist, the other between my shoulder blades.

“Are we doing this, Annie?” Will asked roughly against my neck.

I cradled his cheeks with my hands, pulling his face up so I could see him.

“Please,” I said, my voice laced with frantic desperation. I wanted him, and I could feel that he was physically with me, but I slowed myself down, took a breath and waited. Waited to see the reaction in his eyes. Waited to let him decide if he wanted this too. Waited to see if his heart was fully in this like mine was.