I’m still breathing hard, trying to calm myself. The color in my cheeks burns, and not just from the inferno Jace has ignited inside me.

He lowers me down onto my feet, refusing to let go until I’m steady enough to stand on my own. I’m shaky and fatigued, but fuck, by the looks of it, that makes two of us.

“Izzy, you—”

“Don’t.” The word comes out harsh, and it should. Because I mean it. The weight of what I’ve just done, with Jace, is collapsing the walls around me, and I suddenly feel trapped and claustrophobic.

I hate Jace Andrews. And I’ve spent three years building up that hate so that I could blast it at him the first opportune moment I got.

Yet, within half an hour of seeing his sultry gaze and muscled physique barely contained under his t-shirt, he’s got me half naked, pinned up against my employer’s bathroom wall, and he’s buried so deep inside me I can’t tell where he ends and I begin.

Jesus Christ, what’s gotten into me?

“Don’t what?” He looks confused as he pulls his jeans back up, buckling his belt. “You’ve missed me, too, Izzy.”

I scramble for my clothes, feeling more exposed and vulnerable than I’ve ever felt in my life. “Don’t,” I repeat, doing up my jeans. “Don’t call me Izzy.” I turn to glare at him, my eyes still burning, but no longer with only desire. Anger smolders there, too. Anger at him, but also at myself.

“C’mon, Izzy—” He reaches out to touch my face as I pull my shirt and bra back in place, but I bat him away.

“I said don’t!” I hiss, fighting for the wherewithal to keep my voice down. “Don’t call me that! Don’t touch me! And don’t say...that!” I can’t even bring myself to repeat what he whispered to me only moments before.

Damn him!

Jace has his hands up in the air now, feigning surrender. “Isabelle,” he says evenly, enunciating each syllable. “We need to talk about—”

“We need to do nothing.” My tone is clipped. I can barely look him in the eye, smoothing my hair out. “This was a mistake. It never should’ve happened.”

“I beg to differ.”

“You would,” I grit out, finally bringing my gaze up to meet his. “You shouldn’t have come here, Jace. You should’ve never come back.”

He’s still standing there as though I’ve slapped him when I unlock the door and slip silently from the room.

* * *

Emily is blowing up my phone. She has been for the past two hours. I haven't been able to bring myself to answer her calls or texts. She's already asked about Jace in three of her five texts, and I know that the moment she hears even the slightest waver in my voice, she'll know damn well something happened between us. I'm just not mentally prepared to admit the truth yet.

Not to her, and not to myself.

I just had sex with my ex-boyfriend in the bathroom of my workplace. Mind-blowing, intense sex. It doesn’t seem real.

And it sure as hell isn’t right. The biggest problem is that it’s not even the amazing sex that’s bothering me now.

Fuck, Izzy, I love you. The words had come from his lips with so much conviction, like he had the fucking right to speak them. I can still hear his voice as it caresses my ears, just as I can still feel the ghost of his touch on my skin.

Showering, standing under the hottest water I could handle and scrubbing my body until it stung, hadn’t helped.

“Damn you,” I mutter to no one. The house I rent from old Addie Phillips is empty except for me and Lucy, my black cat. Lucy glances at me with narrowed eyes from across the room, where she’s perched on the back of the couch, basking in the sunlight streaming through the window, glaring at me like I’ve just interrupted her by speaking out loud.

“Sorry,” I say to the cat. I turn back toward the kitchen, intent on brewing a pot of coffee. One quick glance at the clock reminds me that it’s almost four o’clock.

To hell with this.

I pull the fridge open and grab a beer instead. “It’s fucking five o’clock somewhere,” I mumble as I twist the top off, casting a quick glance back toward Lucy. Sure enough, she’s glaring at me.

“Oh, stop it. I own you, you don’t own me,” I remind her. We both know how untrue that statement is.

My phone suddenly lights up on the counter, and I roll my eyes as I take a long pull from the bottle. I know it’s Emily again before I even see her name on the display. “You’re persistent, if nothing else,” I greet her.

“You can’t hide from me,” she replies. “If it went to voicemail, I was coming over there. I have a key, remember?”

“Remind me to take that away from you.”

“Remind me to hide the fucking thing before you get the chance,” she chuckles. “Now, why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not. I’m just tired.”

“Bullshit,” she replies simply. “What happened? You two get into a scrap? You know if you don’t tell me, all I have to do is go into Edna’s and someone will tell me what went on. There’s always an audience here in Brooksville.”

Oh God, I hope not. “Did you get your car back?” I ask.

“Yes, and I’ll drive it over there in two seconds if you don’t spill whatever it is you’re trying to avoid saying. Christ, it’s not like you did him on the countertop or something.”

Fuck. “Close enough,” I admit with a defeated sigh.

“Pardon?” That’s got her interest piqued.

“I had sex with him, Em—”

“Jesus! Where?”

“Ladies’ bathroom?” I reply weakly, like I’m not sure it really happened. But, it did. It really happened.

There’s a pause of silence on the other end. “Holy shit,” she says finally. “You and Jace...in the public bathroom at Edna’s? Holy fucking shit, Izzy. That’s bold, even for you.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the alcohol to flood my veins faster. “I really don’t want to talk—”

“I thought you hated him?” Emily blurts out.

“I do,” I snap, feeling suddenly cornered. “Believe me, I do. But he started saying these things, and then he touched me...I wasn’t thinking.”

“Damn, girl.” I can practically hear her smiling. “That’s pretty hot, you know.”

“It was pretty something. Not to mention a big freaking mistake.”

“Amazing?” she asks. “Tell me it was at least amazing. Got to be worth the inner turmoil I can hear in your voice now.”

“It was incredible,” I say, far too quickly.

“Damn.” Emily sounds like she’s living vicariously through me. That’s not weird at all.

“Yeah.” I clear my throat, downing another mouthful of beer. “So, did you call just for the juicy details, or was there something you actually had to say?”

“Oh, I haven’t even begun to ask for details, Izzy.” Again, she’s grinning; I know it. “But you can tell me in a couple hours.”

“What’s in a couple hours?”

“I’m picking you up in my car—you know, the one that’s no longer howling like a goddamn banshee—and we’re going to Tonk’s. Live band, cheap beer.”

“No way.” I shake my head even though she can’t see me. “I’ve got a beer in my hand now, and I just want to stay here where it’s quiet. Besides, this house is pure organized chaos.” I glance around the room again, sighing. At least, I'm telling myself it's organized. Maybe it's just fucking chaos. “I'm staying home tonight, Em.”

“So you can replay sexy time with Jace in your head over and over all night? I’m not letting you torture yourself like that. Get your ass into some tight jeans and wear that low-cut purple halter top you bought last time we went into the city. We’re going to dance and drink away the mere thought of Jace fucking Andrews, Izzy.”

“Sounds like you’re telling me, not asking.”

“See, you’re such a smart girl. I’ll pick you up at eight.”

“Em, I don’t—”

Too late. She’s already ended the call. I stare at the bottle in my hand. Well, it looks like this isn’t the only one of these I’ll be having tonight.