“I think you should get back to your date...” My voice was a whisper. “You’ve said all you had to say so...What more could you possibly want from me?”

“In this moment?” He trailed his finger against my collarbone.

“In general...” I turned my cheek before he could kiss me. “I’m never sleeping with you again, I’ll be formally resigning by the end of the week, and I think we need to end our so-called friendship for good.”

“You mean that?” he whispered.

“Yes, I mean that.” I ignored the feel of his hand squeezing my ass. “I want to be friends with someone who’s interested in more than my pu**y.”

“I’m interested in your mouth, too.”

I had no response for that, and he must’ve sensed it because he tightened his grip on my waist.

“I know how hard it is for you to tell the truth,” he said softly, “so I need you to be completely honest when I ask you these next few questions. Can you do that?”

I nodded, breathlessly, and he leaned closer to my lips. “You don’t enjoy f**king me?”

“That’s not the issue.”

“That’s not the answer. Tell me.”

I ignored the loud beating in my chest. “I do enjoy it...”

“Are you really resigning?” He kissed me.

“No...I just—” I sucked in a breath as his hand cupped my right breast, as he squeezed it. Hard.

“You just what?”

“I want to be reassigned to another lawyer, and I don’t want to see you any more than I have to...”

He stared into my eyes for a long time, not saying a word as he finally let me go. “That’s how you truly feel?”

“Seeing as I’m the only one between us who actually feels anything, yes. Yes, that is how I really feel about you.”

He blinked. Then he suddenly pulled me back into his arms and crushed his lips onto mine.

“Why are you such a f**king liar, Aubrey?” He hissed. Pushing me against the vanity, he bit down on my bottom lip and snatched the feathered headband out of my hair.

Keeping his lips on mine, he pushed my dress up my waist—ripping off my panties with one pull.

“Andrew...” I tried to catch my breath as he picked me up and set me on the sink. “Andrew, wait...”

“For what?” He grabbed my hand and placed it over his belt, telling me to unbuckle it.

I didn’t answer him. I slipped my fingers underneath the metal clip and unclasped it as he pressed his mouth against my neck.

Trailing his tongue against my skin, he whispered, “You haven’t missed me f**king you?”

“It was only twice.” I sucked in a breath as his hands caressed my thighs. “Not enough to miss anything...”

He bit me harshly and leaned back, glaring at me.

My breath caught in my throat as he slipped two fingers inside my pu**y and teasingly moved them in and out.

“It feels like you’ve missed f**king me...” He pushed his fingers as deep as they could go, making me moan softly.

I arched my back as he stroked my clit with his thumb.

He suddenly pulled his fingers out of me and brought them up to his lips, slowly licking them. “It tastes like you’ve missed f**king me, too.” He pressed another finger against my throbbing wet clit and then he brought it up to my face—placing it against my lips. “Open your mouth.”

I slowly parted my lips, and he narrowed his eyes as he slid his finger against my tongue. I felt his c**k rub against my thigh, felt him using his other hand to wrap my leg around his waist.

“Tell me that you don’t want to f**k me,” he said. “That you don’t want me to bury my c**k deep inside of you right now.”

He grabbed my face and pressed his lips against mine, drawing my bottom lip into his mouth with his teeth.

I was sliding off the edge of the counter, about to fall, but he suddenly pressed me back against the mirror.

I kept my eyes locked on his as he unwrapped a condom, as he put it on and stared at me with that same angry expression he’d been wearing all night.

He grabbed me by my ankles and pulled me forward, sliding his c**k into me as my legs gripped his waist.

My hands clawed at his neck as he pounded into me again and again.

“I’ve missed f**king you,” he rasped, threading his fingers into my hair and pulling my head back. “But you haven’t thought about me at all?”

“Ahhh!” I screamed as he sped up his thrusts. I squeezed my legs around him even tighter, trying my best not to give in.

I shut my eyes and heard him saying my name—panting, “Fuck, Aubrey...Fuck...”

“Put your hands on the counter...” he commanded, but I ignored him and tightened my grip around his neck.

“Aubrey...” He bit my shoulder again, still f**king me harder than ever. “Put your hands on the counter. Now.”

I slowly unclasped my hands from around him and lowered them to my sides—gripping onto the cold counter. The next thing I felt was his tongue swirling around my ni**les, roughly sucking my br**sts.

I gripped the tile harder as his kisses became more ravenous—more possessive, and as he f**ked me harder and harder I felt myself on the verge of losing control.

“Andrew....” I moaned. “Andrew....”

He released my nipple from his mouth and slid his hands underneath my thighs, picking me up and pinning my back against the wall.

“I know you love the way I f**k you, Aubrey...” He looked into my eyes, forcing his c**k even deeper into my pu**y. “And I know you’ve touched yourself every night this week, wishing it was my c**k inside of you instead of your fingers.”

My clit throbbed with his every word, and I was wetter than I’d ever been in my life.

“Tell me it’s true...” He pressed his lips against mine and slipped his tongue into my mouth—muffling my moans with an angry, unrelenting kiss. “Finally tell me something that’s f**king true...”

Tremors traveled up and down my spine, and I was seconds away from coming, but he wouldn’t let my mouth go.

He was still kissing me—glaring at me, begging me to tell him the truth.

I nodded, hoping that he could read my eyes and see that I needed him to let go of me, I needed to be able to breathe.

He slammed into me one last time—hitting my spot, and I managed to tear my mouth away from his.

“Yessssss!” My head fell forward into his shoulder and I gasped for air.

“Aubrey...” He gripped my waist until he stopped shaking.

As we both came back down, there were few random knocks at the door, a few “Is anybody in there?” taps, but both us remained silent and breathless.

Minutes later, when his breathing seemed to be under control, he pulled out of me—staring into my eyes. He tossed the condom away in the trashcan behind him and pulled up his pants.

I watched as he fixed himself in the mirror, as he smoothed everything so well that no one would ever know that he just f**ked the shit out of me.

I slid off the sink and looked at my own face—flushed cheeks, wild hair, runny mascara—and pulled my bra straps back over my shoulder. Before I could pull up my dress straps, Andrew moved my hand away and pulled them up for me.

Our eyes met in the mirror as he smoothed my hair, and for a split second he turned away—to pick up my headband. He gently held it over my head and slid it into place, and then he walked away.

“You know, it’s rude to just leave someone after sex without saying anything,” I muttered.

“What?” His hand was on the doorknob.

“Nothing.”

“What did you say?” He cocked his head to the side. “I’m not a mind reader.”

“I said it’s rude to just leave after you f**k me. You could at least say something, anything.”

“I don’t do pillow talk.”

“It’s not pillow talk.” I scoffed. “It’s part of being a gentleman.”

“I never said I was a gentleman.”

I sighed and turned around. I waited to hear the door close, but his hands were suddenly on my waist and he was spinning me around to face him.

“What am I supposed to say after I f**k you, Aubrey?”

“You could ask if it was good for me or not...”

“I don’t believe in asking pointless questions.” He looked at his watch. “How long do you have to stay here?”

“Another hour or so.”

“Hmmm.” He was quiet. “And while you were stalking me and my date how many shots did you have?”

“I wasn’t stalking you and your date. I’ve been avoiding you all week, or haven’t you noticed?”

“How many?”

“Five.”

“Okay.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’ll take you home whenever you’re ready and have someone deliver your car to your apartment tomorrow.” He planted a kiss on my forehead before heading to the door. “Just call me.”

“Wait,” I said as he opened it. “What about your date?”

“What about her?”

***

An hour later, I slipped inside of Andrew’s car—a sleek black Jaguar. He held the door open until I was comfortable, and waited until I put on my seatbelt before shutting it.

On his dashboard, I spotted a red folder with a New York state seal on its center. I picked it up, but Andrew immediately took it from me and locked it inside his glove box.

He looked offended that I’d touched it, but he quickly turned away from me and revved up the car.

“Can I ask you something, Andrew?”

“Depends on what it is.”

“I googled you this week and nothing came up...”

“That’s not a question.”

“Why didn’t anything come up?” I looked over at him.

“Because I’m thirty-two years old and I don’t waste my time on Facebook and Twitter.”

I sighed. “And you really haven’t spoken to her in six years?”

“Excuse me?” He looked over at me as we approached a red light. “I thought we just sorted this out in the bathroom.”

“We did, but—” I cleared my throat. “You filed for a divorce, and it couldn’t go through?”

“It takes two people to complete a divorce, Aubrey. Surely you know that.”

“Yes, but...” I ignored the fact that he was clenching his jaw. “Wouldn’t it be easier for someone like you to make it happen? Six years is a pretty long time to stay married to someone you claim you don’t love anymore, so—”

“You’d be surprised at how well some people can spin a f**king lie to get what they want,” he said, his voice cold. “My past isn’t up for discussion.”

“Ever?”

“Ever. It has nothing to do with you.”

I leaned back in my seat, crossing my arms. “Are you ever going to tell me the reason why you left New York and moved to Durham?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t have to.” He steered the car into my apartment complex. “Because like I told you an hour ago, that part of my life never happened.”

“I’m not going to tell anyone. I just—”

“Stop it.” He faced me as he stopped the car, and I could see a world of hurt in his eyes. It was the most vulnerable I’d ever seen him.

“I lost something very special in New York six years ago.” There was regret in his voice. “Something I’ll never f**king get back, something I’ve spent the last six years trying to forget, and if it’s okay with you I’d like to make it to year seven.”