“And that was your invitation to stay?”

He shakes his head and releases a heavy sigh. “You seriously don’t remember?”

If I did, I wouldn’t be asking him. “Clearly not.”

Trent takes my hand in his. “You woke up when I laid you in bed. I didn’t want to stay, Gracie. I didn’t want to do this.” His eyes hold mine captive for a beat. “I wanted to leave because being here fucks me up more than you know.”

My breath hitches. “I don’t . . .”

“No, you don’t understand. You don’t care that I’m goin’ crazy without you, but I am. Then, to see you out with another man ’bout killed me.”

“Trent.” I squeeze his hand, but he doesn’t stop.

“You called, and I came with no questions. Because I’ll always be here for you. I’ll come anytime you need me. I was tuckin’ you in and your blue eyes opened. You begged me to stay. Your voice was sad, and I couldn’t leave you. You told me you needed me here, that you wanted me to hold you, so I did. I’ll do it over and over if you ask because I can’t walk away from you. It’s why we always find our way back here. No matter how much you think we don’t work, we do. We’re right for each other, and you fucking know it. Instead of seein’ what we are and what we have, you’re dating another man in my damn face!”

I pull my hands from his, feeling a myriad of emotions. The strongest being guilt. I’m doing the same thing he did to me for years. I’m on the edge of letting go, but can’t fully. I thought I had at the wedding, but obviously, I keep hanging on.

Not fully committing to breaking a habit will end in failure, which is exactly what keeps happening.

I called him. When I was alone and without any prompting, I did this. He’s the crutch I can’t let go of because I’m afraid to fall.

It isn’t fair to either of us. I’m hurting him, and it’s selfish.

“I won’t call you again,” I vow. “I won’t do this to you.”

He looks at the ceiling and throws the covers off. Trent hops out of the bed and grabs his jeans. “You know, I thought—” He huffs. “I thought that maybe you’d see it. See what is right in front of your face. But I guess I was wrong.” Trent pulls his pants up as I sit here, more confused than ever. Stunned. “You’ve known me a long time. Have I ever been with another woman?”

Shame creeps into my stomach and I drop my eyes to my hands. “No.”

“No,” Trent repeats. “Not one other woman has been in my heart or my bed. It’s only ever been you.”

I lift my eyes as his words sink in. He doesn’t get it. It isn’t about another man. It’s about love. He doesn’t love me. He won’t say it or show it. He’ll never marry me or build a family with me. Hell, he won’t even move in because that’s too much of a commitment. I don’t want that kind of life.

“Yet, you won’t love me!” I yell as he throws his shirt on. “Don’t act like I’m doing some awful thing by tryin’ to move on with my life. I won’t live in your purgatory, Trent! I deserve a love like my parents have. I want you to come home to me, love me, build a life with me. You want a part-time lover and it ain’t me anymore.”

He walks over and bends so we’re nose to nose. “What if that’s all changed? What if I see that’s not the life I want anymore?”

My heart sputters. “Why? What changed? No, you know what? Stop. You can’t play games with me like this. I won’t let you keep stringin’ me along.”

He climbs onto the bed, forcing me to lie back as he settles on top of me. “Everything changed, Grace. The minute you walked away from me at that wedding, it was like my life clicked.”

“Stop,” I beg with tears in my eyes.

“I saw our life flash before me. I saw you in my arms. I saw our kids, our wedding, and our life we could have. It’s all there in front of us.”

I try to slink out from under him, but he drops his weight on my legs. “Tell me you love me,” I request. “Tell me if you want me to believe it.”

He shakes his head, brushing his lips against mine. “You don’t need the words, sweetheart. You need to feel it.”

He’s wrong.

I do need them. I need them more than anything, but before I can demand it, his lips press against mine, and my body molds to his. He holds me tight, skimming his hand up my side.

He touches me, stealing all my thoughts as the heat of his finger burns against my flesh. My hands tangle in his messy blond hair, and I keep his mouth to mine, letting his tongue sweep against mine.

I know it’s wrong. I know I said I wouldn’t lead him on, but I can’t stop this. I won’t. I need it too much.

His hand makes its way to my breast as he kneads the flesh. His thumb rolling against my nipple before tugging it.

“Feel how much your body needs me,” Trent says against my lips.

I moan and arch my back when he does it again. My hands roam his body, taking his shirt off so I can feel his skin against mine. I’m like an addict getting her fix after being sober.

It’s everything I remember and more.

He pushes his hand lower, skimming across my stomach. “Trent,” I beg, needing him to give me more.

“What do you want, sweetheart?”

Him. I want him.

In the back of my mind, I’m screaming at myself to stop this. I’ll end up hurt and alone, wishing I had pushed him away, but right now, I can’t do it.

“Please.” I squirm as he traces the outside of my thigh and across my belly, being careful not to touch where I need him most.

He kisses me, moves my panties to the side, and sinks his finger in. I whimper into his mouth as he fingers me. It’s been weeks since he’s touched me. Weeks since I’ve felt the warmth of his skin or had the scent of him around me.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says as he kisses my neck. “You’re perfect. I’ve missed this. I’ve missed us.”

I don’t want his sweet words. I don’t want to delude myself into thinking this is anything other than sex. This isn’t a reunion, it’s a finale. “Stop talking,” I urge. “Just give me action.”

And he does. Trent’s finger continues to pump in and out while his mouth latches onto my breast. He sucks and circles my nipple as I writhe beneath him.

It feels so incredible. He knows exactly what I like, and he makes damn sure I remember it as he brings me to ecstasy. I climb, and the pressure builds as he starts to rub my clit.

His eyes lock on mine and I detonate.

I cry out his name as he continues to milk pleasure from my body.

As I lie here recovering, I watch him strip out of his pants. “Tell me you want me,” he commands.

My heart wants me to say the words he’s asking me to say, but my head knows better.

“I need this.”

He climbs on top of me, dropping his mouth back to mine. We kiss, and all the reasons I was telling myself about why I shouldn’t do this . . . disappear. Sure, I will be hurt, but I don’t give a shit.

Trent rubs his cock against my core, which is both a tease and a promise. “Trent.” I breathe his name.

“Look at me,” his voice is hard and demanding.

When I do, I begin to tremble. Seeing the emotion in his eyes causes the world around me to fade. All I see is Trent. All I feel is him. All that exists is us.

“You can’t tell me you don’t feel this, sweetheart. I know you do.”

His blue eyes stare into mine as he enters me. I don’t know if it’s the last few weeks of being alone or if it’s because I’ve ached for him, but tears form the second he’s buried to the hilt.

I’m overcome with so many conflicting emotions.

I hate myself for being weak.

I love that he’s here.

I hate him for making me love him.

I love how well we fit together.

I want to slap him for causing me pain.

More than anything, I want to cry.

Tears stream down my face as he starts to move. Trent doesn’t say a word. He wipes them away as they continue to fall. I feel everything pass between us. There’s no denying the intensity of this moment.

Trent makes love to me while my heart splinters into a thousand tiny shards. Each thrust cuts me a little deeper. I feel all that he wants me to, but most of all, I feel fear. Fear that I won’t be able to keep him at arm’s length anymore, that the excuse of loneliness will become much more. If I give him this once again, history will repeat itself. Our track record isn’t the best, and he’s still yet to say the words to me.

“Gracie.” He forces me to open my eyes again. “I’m close.”

His hand finds my clit again and he starts to rub circles. My body, in all its turmoil, starts to respond. He kisses me, touches me, and I let myself free of everything. I grip his shoulders, digging my nails in as my toes start to curl. “God! Yes! Trent!” I yell as white-hot pleasure tears through me.

His orgasm follows shortly after, leaving us both slick with sweat and breathing heavy. As the pulses of pleasure fade, spikes of panic take their place. Unaware of the war that’s waging inside me, Trent shifts his weight and gives me enough room to scoot off the bed. I need space, a door between Trent and me, so I close myself in my bathroom and flip the lock. My heart firing a hail of pain and regret and longing and love.