Page 21 of This

One corner of his mouth lifts into a sexy smirk. “Deal.”

His fingers finally dip inside me, and I’d cancel my flight if he asked. I grab the back of his head, yanking his lips to mine. My body’s already humming when he reaches in the drawer of the nightstand. I notice the chain missing from his neck lying on top. A book sits next to it with a piece of paper sticking out for a bookmark.

What he keeps closest to him.

Dane holds the condom wrapper in his teeth, tearing it open. His hips settle between my thighs, and the way he stares down at me makes it hard for me to breathe. It only lasts a few seconds—me not breathing, him looking at me like we’re something important. Then he thrusts into me.

Hard.

I suck in air, and his eyes shut until he retreats. I lock my legs around him, and he bites my jaw, burying himself in me deeper. We aren’t sharing a moment anymore, but rough and needy, finishing what we started on a couch a few months ago. His grip digs into my skin as my nails scrape over the muscles of his back. I moan, and his tongue shoves into my mouth like he needs to taste the sound. It sends a shiver through me. Everything builds fast from there. A tingle in my toes and a tension in my core battle for control neither can win.

“Dane…” I lose the rest as my thighs tighten on his hips, wanting more of him.

He presses his nose against my neck. “Fuck, baby.”

The sound of his voice sends the world spiraling, taking me with it until it all drops out. His short breaths work their way through my skin while my body quivers around him. I come apart, crying out his name and not knowing my own. He pumps into me harder, and then he groans, his muscles rigid with one last thrust.

I melt into the mattress as he stills, and our eyes meet. His fade back to the ones from before, looking at me like I deserve a special place on his nightstand. I breathe through it this time. Force myself to live in it. His focus lowers to my mouth, and he drops his lips onto mine. A slow kiss. Soft and lazy and the type that takes up residence in your chest. After he pulls back, his thumb runs along my bottom lip.

“Get dressed.” He gives my lip a tug and rolls off me.

Usually, I’d have already calculated how long until I could get out at this point, but as I watch him gather his clothes off the floor, an unfamiliar sense of rejection grabs hold. I wrap my arms around my chest and sit up, suddenly very cold. “I thought I was staying the night.”

I cringe at the slight shake in my voice. I’m better than that.

Dane turns in the doorway and studies me. I press my lips together, refusing to care what he says next.

“You are,” he says. “But I only planned on coercing you into staying for one meal.” He picks up my clothes and brings them over to the bed. “We really do need to go grocery shopping now.” He lowers his head until the tip of his nose touches mine. “Then we’re figuring out when I’m seeing you next because I’m not waiting three months again.”

And that’s how you become addicted to someone.

Portland and I part wayson a rainy day in August. Marco stands on the sidewalk under his umbrella, watching me dodge puddles in the most inconvenient locations while I load my four boxes and suitcase into the car.

Last weekend, we took a trip to San Francisco. I’d already found work as a tour guide at a museum, and his cousin knew a guy who had a friend whose sister was looking for a roommate. Marco vetted her to make sure she wouldn’t undo everything he’d taught me about life and love.

When I asked what lessons I’d learned in my time with him, he rolled his eyes and said, “We live by three rules. Be happy, be safe, be kind. We love by one. Be true to you.”

I wondered if you were supposed to follow both sets of rules at the same time, but we’d already reached his eye-rolling quota for the day. I didn’t want to give him a headache.

All packed up, I leap over a pool of water by the curb and join him under his umbrella.

“I got you something.” He reaches in his jacket and pulls out a copy ofDarkest Desires. “Just in case you change your mind about happily-ever-afters and want a few pointers. Daphne ends up being unbearable about halfway through, but we all deserve a Denton. The man gives new definition to the wordstamina, and in chapter thirteen, he—”

“Spoilers!” I grab the book from him.

Marco cracks a rare smile, and despite our agreement to remain indifferent during our goodbye, he hugs me. It only lasts three seconds before he pulls away and gives me an annoyed look for getting him wet. “Your hair’s going to be a frizzy mess when it dries.”

I back away with my guide to love. “I’ll post a picture, so you can judge me.”

“Which I will,” he says, heading back inside. “You never find your light.”

Without him standing on the curb like Keaton, waving until she was nothing more than a dot in my rearview mirror, it feels less like I’m leaving him behind when I drive away. And I’m not. Unlike my role model growing up, I understand you can leave a place behind and keep the people. Then again, she might have known that and just not given a shit.

Rather than the radio, I listen to a playlist created by none other than Dane Masters. He titled itDear Bennett. The songs range from unexpected choices to unbearable nonsense. One even sounds like monkeys screeching with jungle sounds in the background. I stop for gas and text him.

I’m holding an intervention. You have terrible taste in music. Horrible. Dreadful.

A picture of his abs pops up in response, followed by,Who needs taste when you have these?

---