Temptation is more than the inclination to sin.

It’s coaxing, manipulating, inducing, and everywhere. There are times I deny myself giving in to it. Times I fall prey to it. Times I chase it. Fuck, there are even times I just need it to feel alive.

This time, though, it’s different. It’s him. And even though I know I shouldn’t follow him, I find myself chasing after him. The temptation is too great to resist. I go wherever he may lead me without question, but like always when one door opens, so does another, and another, and another still.

Endless doors without answers.

Never closing.

I can’t fucking take it.

When another door swings open, I want to slam it closed and lock it with a million keys, but this time it isn’t a dream.

It feels real.

The more than tiny sprinkle of ice-cold water that lands on my face wakes me from the nightmare I can never seem to shake.

Blinking my eyes open, I shade the sunshine with my arm. “What the fuck, Amelia?”

My younger sister is standing over me with a smirk on her face and an open bottle of water in her hand. “I thought you were leaving this afternoon?”

Quickly sitting up on her small sofa, I look around for my phone. “I am. What time is it?”

“Way past your flight time, bro. Looks like you’re staying.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

Dropping her backpack to the floor, she shoots me a look. “I’m not your personal alarm clock. I had finals, remember? I just got home.”

Realizing I fucked up, I relax and resolve to catch a later flight. “Right. How do you think you did?”

“Passed with flying colors, like always. Looks like I’ll be graduating with my MBA at the end of the month.”

Hating that she’s not doing what she really wants to do, but what our father demands, I give her a sympathetic look and say the only thing I can. “That’s great.”

That glare she gives me warns that trouble is coming, and before I can stop her, she pours the rest of the water on my head.

I wipe it from my face and then glare at her. “Really, Amelia, when are you going to grow up?”

With a shrug, she walks over to the counter to pick up her camera and then fiddles with the settings. “You’re asking me that? Aren’t you the one who stumbled in here drunk off your ass last night?”

My pounding head is the only reminder I need of last night’s binge. With a cock of my head, I scratch my scalp. “About that. I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

The camera pointing my way is something I’m used to when I’m in my sister’s company.

Snap. Snap. Snap.

If that horrible gut feeling I have turns out to be true, if she goes to work for my father at The Waters Group, she will be kissing her passion for photography goodbye. Who knows, though, she might change her mind about working for him. And he might, just might, let her off the hook, though he wasn’t willing to do so for my brother and me. The fact that I’m looking around her nice, one-bedroom apartment in the Village that my father pays for, even though he hates that she lives here, is the start of Amelia being who she wants to be, not who he wants her to be.

According to our father, she should be living in Morningside Heights because it’s much safer, and after all it’s where he lived, where his father lived, and where my brother and I lived when we attended Columbia Business School.

Like every Waters since the beginning of time.

Really, though, I’m proud of my sister for standing up to him and living where she wants, not where he wants her to live, not what’s convenient for him.

I hold my hand up. “Not now, please—the shutter noise is too much.”

Snap. Snap. Snap.

“Amelia, I said please.”

That makes her stop. When she pulls the lens away from her face, there’s an unusual look of sympathy in her gray eyes. “By the way, it wasn’t you who woke me up. It was Vanessa, when she wouldn’t stop buzzing.”

I rub my scruff again. “What are you talking about?”

She points to my duffle bag. “She wanted to talk to you. She settled for leaving you a present.”

“You let her up?”

“I didn’t have a choice. She was going to wake the whole neighborhood. Lucky for you, you were passed out. I have to admit it was rather funny watching her trying to wake you up, though. The harder she tried, the madder she got. She had all kinds of names for you. I don’t know what you did, but you really pissed her off. I wanted to take her picture so badly, and then post it all over social media with the caption ‘The ice queen fails.’”

Shaking my head, I can’t help but laugh. “You never did like her.”

“What was to like? She was always a stuck-up bitch whenever she was around me.”

Standing, I ignore her and head toward the counter, where I spot a black photo album. “Is this your latest portfolio?”

Amelia runs her slender fingers over the silver lining. “No, it’s pictures of the three of us.”

With that, I know it’s time for me to go. “I’m going to hop in the shower. Do you think you could find me another flight to Orange County?”

The camera never far from her reach, she raises it again and starts shooting. “Why don’t you stay a few more days? I’ve missed you.”

Hating leaving her, but knowing I have to for my own well-being, I try to lighten the mood by making faces. I stick my tongue out. Put my thumb to my nose and spread my fingers. Place my hands near my ears and wave them. All the while saying nothing that answers her question. She knows the answer is no.

“Be serious,” she tells me.

“I’m hung over and not even showered. How serious can I be?”

“At least try.”

I shoot her a glance and grin. “How’s this?”

Amelia lowers her camera. “Not much better. Go shower and I’ll find you a flight.”

I lean in and kiss her on the cheek. “You’re the best.”

Affection not really being her thing, or mine for that matter, she shoves me. “Get away from me. You smell like alcohol and her.”

Her.

Right.

Fuck.

Grabbing my duffle bag, I head into the bathroom.

Amelia’s black dress is thrown on the floor in a heap, her high heels beside it. I run my hands through my hair.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

All it does is remind me of yesterday. Why I’m back. Slamming my hand against the wall, I’m so mad, I can hardly breathe. I want to scream, “Why, why, why,” but it won’t do anyone any good.

We all know why, or at least part of it.

And not wanting to go down that dark road, I strip out of my clothes from yesterday and step under the spray.

Leaning against the cool tile, I let the cold water wash away my nightmare. I need to get out of New York. It’s toxic for me here.

The bar of soap is lavender scented and I shake my head as I lather up and wash away the scent of her, the feel of her, the very essence of her. Vanessa was not what I needed last night and is not what I need now, or ever.

As the water grows warmer, my cock, a little behind the game, must realize it missed its chance at morning wood, and the rub-off it might receive in my effort to help the guy out.

Ever since I moved away from the city last Thanksgiving, I’ve had this need that never seems to be satisfied. No matter how many women, how many fucks, it’s never enough.

Sex is just sex.

No feelings.

Don’t get me wrong—I like it that way.

Yet every once in a while, I wish that when I find myself pulling out of a woman mumbling, “That felt fucking amazing,” I could still feel that emotion after I walk away from her.

What happens next occurs before I realize what I’m doing. I close my eyes and gently rub, first around my cock, then my balls.

Fuck, that feels good.

Soon, I’m picturing a faceless woman—a hot body, another fuck. She’s gripping me. Tight. Causing just enough pain to remind me that I’m alive. I turn her around and imagine driving my cock into her sweet pussy, over and over, and it makes me want to come hard and fast.

The thought has my fist pumping at a quicker pace and I lick the water from my lips. The pressure wells deep and a tingling radiates from my cock. As my orgasm starts to build, so do the contractions—it feels like electricity is shooting through me. My dick twitches and I can’t hold on any longer. As I start to come, practically spasming from the tight grip, the incredible feeling builds. Finally, I let myself go, crossing that threshold over and over until I’m spent. My chest rises and falls, and I slouch against the shower wall.

Yeah, that felt fucking amazing.

Once my breathing returns to normal, I lather up with the lavender soap once again, rinse it off, and get out of the shower. I don’t bother to shave.

Wrapping a towel around my waist, I wipe the steam from the mirror. I slick my hair back and stare into my own gray eyes, thinking that for just a moment, I saw myself there. The guy I used to be. My gaze lowers, and the ink on my chest is a constant reminder of the ways things have changed.

Forever.

That so familiar fury rips through me and I have to cast my eyes away.

When I reach inside my duffle for my clothes, I find the present Amelia told me about.

I’d forgotten about that little ditty.

With a heavy sigh, I pull it out. Vanessa has written my full name across the card. Camden Pearson Waters. Typical that she wouldn’t think about how much seeing my father’s name, my own middle name, on the card would burn.

The decision to open the gift comes out of sheer fuck you curiosity. Honestly, I’m wondering what kind of sex toy she thought would lure me back this time. It’s as if she thinks sex is the key to my heart. How shallow does she think I am? Besides, we experimented with toys in the bedroom only a few times through the years, and overall I’d have to say our sex life was mostly vanilla.

Now suddenly after our breakup she decides to become this saucy vixen. It’s almost laughable. The texts, messages, and gifts do need to stop. Let’s see, aside from the X-rated text messages, the gifts are always extreme. She’s sent me nipple clamps with the note “Can’t wait for you to use these on me.” She’s mailed me handcuffs, with the memo “I’m yours for the taking” wrapped around them. And she’s had delivered countless other items. The ones that didn’t end up in the trash, I spitefully gave to the next girl I fucked to use for my pleasure.

Yeah, I admit I have anger issues.

Not sure what could possibly be left for her to give me except the key to her ass, I find myself shaking when I see the framed photo of my brother, her, and myself at my brother’s graduation from Columbia two years ago in the box. Under the photo, etched in the silver, is scripted, The Three Musketeers.

Unable to stop myself, I slam it into the trash can and watch the glass shatter into hundreds of tiny pieces.

It takes everything within me not to call her and rip her in two. Fuck it. I won’t give her the satisfaction of dialing her number.

Given the amount of time it takes me to calm down, I hope like fuck I can get to California tonight.

Throwing on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, I attempt to shake off the reaction and spend what little time I have left with Amelia.

Coffee is brewing in the pot when I enter the kitchen, and my sister is sitting at the kitchen table with her laptop in front of her. I grab a mug and look over at her. “Find anything?”

Amelia closes her laptop and smiles. “I did. JKF had none, but there’s a flight out of Newark tonight. That gives us a whopping eight hours together before you have to leave. So what do you want to do?”

“Let’s get my ticket booked first, and then we’ll decide.” Searching for my wallet, I see it is on the kitchen table along with my phone and keys. Amelia must have taken them out of my pockets last night. “Always taking care of me.” I point.

“Someone has to.” She grins, tucking a piece of turquoise-colored hair behind her ear. Just one small strand of individuality that I know she hides from our father when she sees him, but it’s enough for her to make herself feel like she’s calling the shots.

I let her believe that.

“Okay then, put my credit card info in and let’s get something to eat.” I rub my stomach. “I’m starving.”

“About that,” she says, rising from the table. “The only seats left were first class.”

Over the rim of my mug, I study her. “You know I can’t afford that.”

Leaning against the counter, she crosses her arms over her chest. “Yeah, I kind of figured that, so I used my own card.”

Glaring at her, I slam my coffee down. “He is not paying for my flight.”

She steps a little closer. “Cam, you wanted to get back tonight and it was all that was available. Besides, he’ll never know. He doesn’t check my statements. And even if he does figure it out, he won’t care. He’d want to help you.”

With a deep breath, I remember that she doesn’t really understand, doesn’t know, so I make light of it. “I’m going to send you the money as soon as I get it, and I want you to put it on your credit card.”

She rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”

“You know I want to do things on my own, without his help.”

Amelia sighs as if annoyed by my quest for independence, and I wonder if not telling her was the right choice. “Okay then, since that is settled,” she says with a smile, “let’s go to Balthazar and then to Central Park so I can snap some pictures. Everything is in bloom and with finals, I haven’t made it up there yet.”

I eye her curiously. “I’m cool with the park, but Balthazar? Really?” I use my fingers to draw quote marks as I add, “‘I can’t handle all the snooty people in there.’ Isn’t that what you always say?”

Her middle finger looks me right in the face.

I grab it and push it down.

Feigning pain, she shakes her hand. “They have good food.”

“Still, you don’t like the atmosphere.”

My sister is petite, but once in a while she comes across as fierce. “But you love the food, so I will persevere. Are you going to make a stink about that, too, or can I do something nice for you just because I want to?”

Whether or not she’s affectionate, and whether or not I am, I pull her in for a hug and kiss the top of her head. “You know I love you.”

In very untypical Amelia behavior, she hugs me back. “And even though you’re an obstinate ass sometimes, you know I love you too.”

The power of the words. Hard to say. Harder not to say back.

I chuckle throatily.

Then I do what I told myself I wouldn’t and bring up a subject I know I shouldn’t. “Do you mind if I invite Mom?”

When she pulls away with a scowl, I know she isn’t happy. “Yes, I do.”

I should have kept my trap shut. Still, I had to try. Hating the rift between them, I look into her eyes and say her name with a sigh. “Amelia.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Don’t ‘Amelia’ me. She’s the one who decided not to be a part of our family. Left us when we needed her. Got herself a boyfriend almost half her age, and moved to some artsy loft in Brooklyn.”

Not wanting to go there, not willing to go there, to tell her all the ways we always shielded her from the truth, I do what I always do when my sister and I come to this juncture and back the fuck down. The reasons behind our parents’ divorce aren’t for me to tell. This I know. So instead of saying any more, I raise my hands in surrender. “Okay, forget I said anything.”

“Already forgotten.”

Sorry I brought it up, I take hold of her gemstone necklace and change the subject. “You like this, huh?”

She looks down. “I love it. Where’d you get it, anyway?”

I tug on her colored strand of hair. “A friend of mine. She has a whole bunch that her friend makes. I’ll see if she has a turquoise one and send it to you.”

“Oh, I’d love that. Thanks. Now let’s go before our time together runs out.”

I look at my watch. “We should have plenty of time.”

“Not really. After the park, I was hoping to go the top of the Empire State Building. I have a new flash and I want to take some photos of the city for my portfolio.”

“It’s not like I’m going to say no, but fuck, with all the things you want to do, there’s a good chance I might miss my plane.”

She raises a brow. “Maybe that’s my plan.”

Fiend.

I shoot her a grin. “Sorry, sis, not going to happen.”

“What’s the rush?”

“I have a job.”

Amelia rolls her eyes. “You’re a lifeguard.”

Used to the jabs she likes to make, I ignore it, and poke her in the stomach. “It’s still a job. More than I can say for you. Besides, I have all that sunshine and all those pretty girls waiting for me.”

Turning on her heels, she tosses over her shoulder, “Whatever.”

“No, seriously, I have to work tomorrow.”

“I get it. I get it.”

New York City might have once been my home, but now I’m homeless. And California just feels like the place I can figure my life out.

At least there, I don’t have any worries, there are no distractions, and I don’t have any shit to deal with.

That’s what I tell myself, anyway.

And sometimes I almost believe it.

Almost.