Threading my fingers into her hair, I grip the satiny strands, forcing her chin down. Her eyes are fluttering up, her low sound of desire pushing me closer to the edge. Her pussy contracts around my cock, so I rub her clit until she covers my hand in a silent request to stop.

I keep one hand fisted in her hair, the other I press against her sternum. I move her over me, harder, faster until the entire universe comes to a screeching halt with the force of my orgasm. It’s like a goddamn hurricane, blasting through my body, blowing me apart.

When I’m done coming, I press my face into her neck. She’s sweaty, but she smells sweet. She pushes her fingers through my hair, over and over.

“Randy? You okay?” she whispers.

I shudder and shake my head instead of nod like I’m supposed to.

“What’s wrong?” She strokes down my back.

I don’t know how to feel about her gentleness. I want it. I like it. I’m not used to it. I hold her tighter. “There was a bunny at the bar.”

Her whole body goes rigid. It’s understandable. I’m still inside her. I don’t know why I feel compelled to disclose this.

“She wanted to come back to my room with me.”

Her reply is quiet, reserved. “You don’t have to tell me.”

It almost sounds like she’s pleading with me not to. But I can’t stop.

“Nothing happened. I turned her down. Then I finally got your messages.” My face is still buried against her neck. “And then you were here, and that’s all I wanted.”

Her voice wavers. “I’m glad I could come, then.”

I lift my head and take her face in my hands. “Me, too.”

I don’t tell her the things I want to: that I haven’t been with anyone else since we messed around at Alex’s cottage. That was months ago, and we didn’t even have sex. I don’t tell her how I think about her all the time and have to stop myself from texting her on a daily basis. Or that for a minute I considered sleeping with that girl in the bar because I was angry she couldn’t make tonight work. And I don’t tell her that my almost-actions have freaked me out because they’re another way I’m like my dad. I don’t say anything about how I want this to be more than just fun, but it can’t be because I’m too much like my father.

One night Lily won’t be there to save me from making the wrong choice, and I’ll do to her what my dad did to my mom. I don’t want to be responsible for wrecking anyone’s life but my own.

So instead I kiss her, grab another condom, and do the thing I’m supposed to. What we’ve agreed on. I keep her up all night, providing endless orgasms.

At five forty-five in the morning, she calls for a ride. She looks exhausted. She has dark circles under her eyes. I’ve left a bunch of hickies on her chest—at least it’s not her neck. I pull on a pair of sweats and a shirt while I watch her dress. Then I decide I want one more quickie. I bend her over the dresser, flip her skirt up, pull her panties down far enough that I can get inside her, and make her come again. Once I’m finished straightening her up, I follow her out into the hall.

“You don’t have to come down with me; I’m okay on my own.”

“I know. I’m not.”

“Oh.” She looks confused, which is understandable since I haven’t explained anything.

In the elevator, I pull her against me and rest my cheek on top of her head. I’m gonna be grumpy later from lack of sleep. I don’t care right now, though.

Once we get to the lobby I walk her to the front doors.

“I thought you said you weren’t coming out,” she says.

I shrug, holding the door open, and follow after her. There’s a small sedan with a guy leaning against the hood. I open the passenger door, toss her bag inside, and usher her in. She looks a little disappointed, until I slide in beside her.

“What’re you doing?”

“Coming along so I can have more time with you.”

“You’re crazy. Aren’t you leaving for Chicago this morning?”

“Not until later. I’ll be back in plenty of time.”

“Don’t you need sleep?”

“I’ll do that on the ride back, and on the plane. C’mere.” I hold an arm out, and she snuggles into me. I pull her onto my lap and stretch out on the backseat.

I know this is a problem. I want to do more than just have sex with her. I want to make the problem worse. “You should move to Chicago.”

She laughs. It’s tired-sounding and only half awake. “Alex bought Sunny a house last week. She’s moving in over the holidays.”

“You should move then, too. Think of all the free orgasms that would come along with that.”

I get another laugh. She snuggles in closer. “I’m orgasmed out right now.”

“I’d be able to dole them out regularly instead of all at once if you lived closer.”

“Sounds nice. I’d still need to find a job, though.”

“I’m happy to make a call. Like I said before, there’s a lot of opportunity in Chicago for skating instructors. You’re amazing on the ice—like, Olympic ability.”

She makes this noise, like a huff.

“It’s true.”

“I almost went to the trials,” she says quietly.

“Almost? What happened?” I hope she’ll tell me more than Miller did.

“It’s an expensive sport, like hockey. My dad stopped paying child support, and the money wasn’t there for training, even with sponsors.”