My eyes snap open.

The room is dark and eerily calm, and for a moment, I wonder where I am. Then the realization sinks in. I'm still in Stacy's apartment, and looking over, I see that she's still sleeping; one breast is exposed and illuminated in the glow of the city lights just beyond her window. Her face is peaceful.

I look around the room—at the personal photo's of Stacy's family perched on her dresser, and other photos of her friends, and these things reveal a side of her that I realize I don’t know anything about. Who is this woman, really?

I feel a cold sweat creep over my body. What the fuck am I doing here?

My stomach churns with the realization that my life is spiraling out of control.

I'm a trained SEAL. Hasn’t my training taught me anything? Like restraining yourself and not running to your death. Until this point, I've been the epitome of control. And now here I am, in bed with a woman I hardly know.

It's a slippery slope. It's mistakes like these that get men killed in combat.

I need to get my shit together.

Stacy…damn that was something else. I’ve never fucked like that. It's a wonder my cock's still working, but honestly, she just turns me on in a way that no other woman has ever done before. And as if my cock knows exactly what I'm thinking, I feel it twitch in my boxers. Not now. I can't allow it to lead me.

I need to clear my head.

I quietly slide out from beneath Stacy's bed sheets, careful not to wake her, and I walk out to her balcony. Outside, there's an unobstructed view of the city. If I'm honest, I fucking love the city—the energy, the pulse of it all—and standing outside listening to the hum of traffic and watching the lights flicker from building to building suddenly brings me clarity.

Spending an entire night with some strange woman is a mistake. I can't stay here.

I take a deep breath, gripping the balcony railing, and inhaling the crisp night air.

I swallow it into my lungs as if it were a medicinal elixir. I can feel it working, and feel lifted.

Why do I feel the need to latch onto this woman? I don't know her at all, if I'm being honest with myself. She's a fully competent adult, with her own life to live. She doesn't need me rescuing her every minute of the day … trailing after her like some lost puppy. That's not who I am.

And then it hits me.

I need some purpose in my own life, and I know at my core that I can't keep latching onto Stacy like I am. She's not some mission to complete. But the strange thing is, I already feel so close to her. It's a feeling that my rational brain can't comprehend.

I listen as a car honks, and then presses on the gas, thundering down the street. I watch as a man and woman walk down the street hand in hand. She's leaning into his chest and giving him a knowing smile that reveals their contentment.

Now, those people know each other, I think to myself.

This thing—whatever it is between Stacy and I—isn't healthy.

The SEAL motto plays itself over and over in my brain: "The only easy day was yesterday."

I need to focus on today, and tomorrow. I know what I need to do.

I walk back into Stacy's room, quietly grabbing my things. I find my jeans crumpled in the corner of the room, and pick them up, slipping into them one leg at a time. Then I hunt around the room for my other clothes.

Fuck, they could be anywhere at this point. The room is dark and making the task difficult. I'm groping in the dark until I realize that I should grab my cell phone and press the flashlight feature, sweeping the beam of light across the floor.

Finally, I find my shirt, shoes, and wallet. I gather all of my things.

And just as easily as I came into Stacy's life, I walk to her front door and leave it. As I step through the threshold of her door, I feel my body hesitate. It's almost imperceptible, but it's there. I resist the urge to look back at her body silhouetted between the moonlight and her soft, white sheets.

No, if I do that, I may never leave.

I have to get out of here—for her sake, and mine.

And just like that, I'm gone.