The next morning, I rolled over and stretched my arms across the bed, expecting to find Shane.

Instead, cold sheets rested under my palm. Déjà vu hit me, the same feeling I’d had in Jamaica when I’d woken up to him gone. The disappointment pinching my chest. The hope that he’d come strolling back in and want more of me. But as I listened for sounds from my bathroom or the kitchen, I knew he’d left.

I rose to my elbows and looked around the room for his pants, shoes, anything, still imagining he was there despite the silence. All I found was a small piece of paper resting on his pillow.

I had to work this morning.

Shane

That was it. No apology, no regret, no nothing. Worse, was I knew he hadn’t had to work today. We’d talked about how he’d had the weekend off and made jokes about ways to spend the day.

My foolish mind had conjured images of waking up next to him and repeating last night. My mind screamed at me to not push, but my heart pumped harder and harder, urging me to tell Shane what he meant to me.

In the end, my mind won out and I pushed the doubts about why he’d left down, telling myself that he got a call and something came up at the station.

I grabbed my phone from my nightstand and pulled up my messages. I’d just ask what happened and give him a reason to hurry back to me.

Me: I missed you this morning. Did something come up at work?

Me: Hopefully it doesn’t take too long. I’d really love to have you for dinner. Until then, here’s something to tide you over.

I tugged the sheets so they barely covered my vagina and exposed my stomach and legs. Taking a picture, I sent it and waited for his reply.

I imagined him sending one in return and we’d go back and forth, building the anticipation of the night to come. I imagined him calling me and getting me off with his words alone. I imagined him telling me he hated leaving and couldn’t wait to get back to me.

I imagined wrong.

He never responded.

As the night wore on, I became worried that something had gone wrong. Maybe he was hurt. I watched the news a little closer that night, listening for anything that might have had to do with Shane. At one point, I’d thought about calling Jack and asking if he’d heard from Shane, but I knew I couldn’t.

Shane and I had two rules: no telling Jack and just sex.

I was breaking the just sex rule, but I couldn’t help it. Not with the way he’d loved me last night. Not with the way he’d held my hand and danced with me. A stone wall would have crumbled under that kind of tenderness.

And a part of me felt like Shane’s stone wall was crumbling too.

But when Monday rolled around with still no response, I doubted what I’d felt. Maybe I’d imagined the whole night. Maybe I’d inferred my feelings to him and saw what I wanted. Maybe I was wrong.

On my way home from work, I sent another message.

Me: Hope you’re okay.

I typed up about ten more messages. I love you. I miss you. Do you care for me? Don’t you miss me? I deleted all of them and had to hold off from sending another message when it was ten o’clock and I still hadn’t heard from him.

I couldn’t sleep, so I pulled out my research articles and began reading, needing something to take my mind off Shane. It wasn’t until midnight that I heard a soft knock at the door.

My heart skipped a beat, excited that it could be Shane. But I tamped down the hope, because it could also be a serial killer. Knocks at the door in the middle of the night usually had one of two purposes. Sex or death.

Looking through the peep-hole, I realized I was probably going to get sex.

I took my time opening the door, trying to decide which emotion would win out. Anger that he’d blown me off. Excitement that he was here. Horny because I knew why he’d shown up at my door in the middle of the night.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in. Alive and with all his fingers.” He cocked an eyebrow, stepping into the apartment. “I figured you’d probably lost them and that was why you didn’t text me back.”

He didn’t respond as I shut the door behind him, and when I turned to demand an explanation, he swooped in. His lips crashed against mine as he lifted me off the ground, my legs automatically wrapping around him.

I knew I should have stopped until he’d apologized for ignoring me. But I couldn’t help but become lost in his kiss, in the feel of his body under my hands, his muscles bunching as he hoisted me higher aligning my core along his erection.

Moaning into his mouth, I rocked my hips and kissed him. Tried to figure out where he’d been just from what his kiss tasted like. But all I was met with was fresh mint barely masking the flavor of beer on his tongue.

He slammed me against the door and dropped his lips down my neck, licking, biting, sucking. I dug my hands into his short hair and tugged him back to look into my eyes. The blue burned dark and desperate. I searched for the same emotions I saw the last time we were together, but the more I looked, the more guarded he seemed to become.

“Is Jo here?”

I nodded my head. And with a growl, he pushed us off the wall and stalked toward my bedroom. He tossed me on the bed and kicked the door shut behind him before falling to his knees and frantically tugging off my sleep shorts.

“Shane.” I breathed out his name in pleasure, begging him to never stop and pleading that he do so we could talk.

But he ignored it and dragged me to the edge of the bed where he knelt on the floor. He wedged his shoulders between my spread thighs and dropped his head, dragging his tongue from my opening to my clit. It was the only soft drag that he gave before using his thumbs to spread me and devour my cunt.

His tongue was fast. His mouth sucking hard. His teeth nipping. When he shoved two fingers inside me, I came hard, bringing my hand to my mouth to mask the heavy moans I couldn’t contain.

He stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before he sucked his fingers cleaned. I didn’t even get a chance to move back and gather myself before he’d unbuckled his pants, tugging them down just far enough to free his length and slide on a condom.

He moved to me and gripped the back of my thighs, raising them high to my chest, and lined up the head of his dick with my opening. His eyes flicked to mine as he began easing into me, flashing with heat and want and need. Flashing with the same emotions from last time. “Shane.”

He looked away, back down to where just the tip of him was lodged inside me, and watched himself slip further and further until there was nothing else to give. He pulled out slowly, and I yelped when he roughly pumped himself back in, making my breasts bounce under my shirt.

Repeating the same slow, rough process again and again, his eyes never once left where we were joined. I needed him to look at me, to be there with me. Not just focused on the fucking, but seeing me.

I leaned up and gripped the back of his neck, pulling him down to me so I could kiss him. I pressed my lips to his, pleading for more. Dragging my tongue along the seam of his lips, demanding he let me in. On a groan, he opened and his tongue tangled with mine.

He lost his easy rhythm, and his hips moved faster as our kiss became more desperate for each other. Placing his full weight on me, he held me close and fucked me like we hadn’t been together for a year, rather than just one night.

His hands roamed my body, cupping my breasts, brushing my nipples, touching all of me. The room echoed with the sound of our flesh coming together, with our moans as we got closer to coming.

I chanted his name and his hand dropped between us, stroking my clit, sending me over the edge.

Gripping his neck, I pressed my forehead to his and came, looking into his eyes. Letting him see what he did to me. Almost as soon as I came down from my high he began coming. His hips pushing hard into me, holding himself inside me, trying to get deeper than before.

I expected his eyes to close, for him to hide from me. Instead he held my stare as groan after groan escaped his lips. It was so intense and filled with so many emotions, I forgot everything but the way my heart stretched against my chest.

Leaning up, I brushed my lips with his and held him close to me, wanting to press all my love into him, needing him to know how much I cared.

He slipped out of me and pulled back to remove the condom. I smiled, expecting him to finish taking off his clothes and to climb into bed next to me. But a pinch of doubt hit me when, instead, I saw him tuck himself back into his pants and redo his buckle.

“What are you doing?” I asked, sitting up, trying to catch his eyes. But he wouldn’t look at me.

“I have to go. I have to be back at the station early in the morning.”

“Stay with me.” I knew I sounded like I was begging, but I didn’t want to lose him again for another two days. I wanted him to hold me and wake up to him in the morning.

He finally looked up and scanned my face. He took so long to answer, I was sure he’d give in. But his brows furrowed more and more and on a heavy swallow, before the words even left his lips, his head was shaking. “Not tonight, Juliana.”

Thank god it was dark in my room because tears burned the backs of my eyes at his rejection.

“Yeah. Okay.” I swallowed too, trying to move back the lump in my throat. “Maybe tomorrow.”

But when he looked at me again, I knew the answer.

“Have a good night.” And with a small smile, he walked out the door, leaving me half naked on the edge of my bed, confused about what the fuck had just happened.

* * *

When I went into the station the next day, I gave myself a pep-talk. He was just busy. It hadn’t meant anything that he had to leave. Maybe he’d just needed to relieve some stress. I wanted to be there for him.

And I tried to remind myself of the look in his eyes when he came. I tried to remember the desperate way he’d held me like he needed me. I focused on that over the disappointment of him leaving.

But it was hard to keep that up when he barely acknowledged me at the station. We’d sat at lunch and he’d kept his head down most of the conversation and left before everyone else. I’d tried to catch up to him before I left the building to ask him over for dinner, but he was already gone.

I wanted to send a message, but I was too scared of the rejection again. If I didn’t push, I wouldn’t have to deal with it. And when I hadn’t heard from him by twelve-thirty, I finally caved and went to bed.

I’d been staring at the ceiling, trying to make my mind relax enough to pass out when I heard the soft knock on the front door. I hopped out of bed and practically sprinted to open it, making sure to check it was him.

As soon as the door opened, he was on me. He didn’t even ask if Jo was home. There was no foreplay, just desperation. He didn’t even bother moving to my room that time.

He undid his pants and slipped on a condom before lifting me against the wall, pushing my panties aside and shoving inside me. I tried to be quiet, knowing Jo was sleeping just on the other side of the wall, but it was impossible.

He buried his head in my neck and said my name over and over as he pressed into me, quickly, roughly. With the pace he set, we came in no time at all. I was sure he was going to stay when he’d held himself inside me and pulled back to look into my eyes. He’d stroked my cheek and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips.

And then let me down, removed the condom, and began buckling up his pants again.

“Shane,” I’d pleaded for him to stop. To look at me and explain.

His jaw clenched as he gave me the briefest of glances. “Work’s just really busy right now.” And then he was gone.

The next morning when I walked out to the kitchen, Jo sat with a mug in her hands, watching me.

“Where’s Shane?” When I looked up, wondering how she knew, she explained. “I heard you again last night.”

“Sorry.” Jo had taken great pleasure in letting me know she’d heard us Monday night. “He had to go.”

“Again?”

“Yeah. He said he’s just busy with work.”

“Jules . . .I didn’t let her continue with where she was going with her soft tone. I had enough doubts. I didn’t need hers too.

“It’s fine.”

But it became less and less fine each night he came to me and left as soon as we’d finished.