“I am so sorry,” I say. I tilt the bottle up and grab a washcloth, but she steps in front of me.

“I think you should go home.” She looks concerned. “You haven’t been yourself at all today.”

“What? No, no, no. I’m perfectly fine.”

“Every time a guest has asked you a question today, you’ve completely zoned out.”

“No, I haven’t...”

“Would you like me to rewind some of the security footage?” She raises her eyebrow. “I’m not upset with you, Mia. You’ve been working extremely hard. I just think you need to go home for the rest of the day, and take off tomorrow, too. I’ll see you Monday.”

I don’t get a chance to respond. She’s turned away to speak to the couple who just walked in through the doors.

I go to the back and grab my purse, and then I decide to take the long way home. I need to think, and I need to make sure Dean knows that whatever the fuck that was or whatever reason it happened, it has to stop here.

***

When Dean walks through the door later that night, I’m standing in the hallway waiting.

“We need to talk,” I say.

“About?”

“The other night.”

“What about it?”

“You need to know that, that’s not going to happen again.”

He doesn’t say anything, only tilts his head to the side.

“Dean, that’s not going to happen again,” I repeat. “So, do whatever you have to do, but it’s probably best if we split up the condo. That way, you’ll stay on your side and I’ll stay on mine and this won’t be an issue.”

“What are you talking about, Mia? What’s not going to happen again?”

“Dean, you know what I’m talking about. This.” I motion between us. “This isn’t going to happen again.”

“So this?” He steps forward and puts his hand around my waist, pulling me close.

“Yes, Dean. This.”

“Okay, I’m just trying to make sure I understand.” He gently kisses my lips. “This isn’t going to happen again either, right?”

“Exactly.” My breathing slows as his hand slides under my shirt. “I’m glad you understand now.”

“I completely understand.” His mouth covers mine and he pushes me against the wall. His hands are in my hair and my hands are around his neck.

He kisses me until I can’t breathe, and then he pulls back a bit. Looking into my eyes, he takes my hand and walks me over to the couch.

Without saying a word, he sits down and pulls me into his lap so I’m straddling him. His lips connect with mine again, and his hands push my skirt up to my stomach.

I moan as he bites my bottom lip and pushes my panties to the side.

He pulls a condom out of his pocket and presses it into my hand, silently commanding me to open it and put it on him.

I oblige, slowly. It takes me a while to focus because I can’t think with the way he’s kissing me.

When I finally do place it on him, he gently lifts me up and positions my pussy over his cock. Giving me one last kiss, he holds my hips and lets my body slowly sink onto his.

I’m not sure how long we sit like that or how long I rock against him, but when we’re finally done, the sun is rising outside the window and that familiar look of “what the hell just happened” is on both of our faces.

Chapter 22

MIA

MIA:  Are you awake?

AUTUMN:  No. This better be an emergency.

MIA:  It is an emergency.

AUTUMN:  It’s not an emergency. If it was, you would have called.

MIA:  I fucked Dean last night. (You were right. It wasn’t an emergency.)

AUTUMN:  You did what??? (No, I was wrong! This IS an emergency. WTH?)

MIA:  You read it correctly the first time...I fucked Dean last night.

AUTUMN:  I know. LOL. Just making sure my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me.

MIA:  It’s definitely not a trick.

AUTUMN:  I can’t believe you did that. (Was it good? O_o )

MIA:  I can’t believe it either. I’m not sure what’s going to happen next. (Hell, yes.)

AUTUMN: Details? His room? Your room? (I think I’m speechless....Truly speechless.)

MIA: Living room couch, but...

AUTUMN: But what????

MIA:  That wasn’t the first time it happened. The first time was on the kitchen floor.

AUTUMN: How romantic. Am I missing the part where he apologized for the past? The part where you two discuss getting back together?

MIA: No. It was just sex. I technically still hate him.

AUTUMN: If you keep screwing him, the hate will eventually go away. Especially if it’s as good as you say.

MIA: It was good, really good. It was better than it was in high school even. If there was some way we could just not talk to each other, I would love to just keep fucking him. That’s it.

I refresh my messages, waiting for Autumn’s usual faster-than-the-speed-of-light reply, but it doesn’t come.

MIA: Hey, are you there? What do you think about what I proposed? Is it possible for me to simply sleep with someone I hate on a regular basis without any consequences?

AUTUMN: What are you talking about? The last thing I got from you was that you technically still “hate” him.

My jaw drops as another text comes through.

DEAN:   The sex was definitely better than it was in high school, and there are plenty of ways that we could not talk to each other, since I would love to keep fucking you, too. (I’m assuming your previous text was supposed to go to Autumn. Tell her I said hello.)

Chapter 23

MIA

I’m trying to convince myself that sex is just a weapon. It’s something I’m doing to use against him later. It just happens to feel amazing and addicting as hell with Dean...

Ever since that night on the couch where he was inside of me for hours, we’ve been having sex every day. Every. Day.

And we don’t talk about it at all. It just happens.

When I get off work, I take my shower—just as he’s taking his, and then I go into the kitchen for a snack. I watch about five to ten minutes of a TV show before Dean sits next to me, and then, within seconds, we’re all over each other.

Although, more recently, we’ve been becoming a bit more civilized and he’s took me to his room and shut the door. Just in case Eric comes home early, but he never does.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t look forward to it all day. If I didn’t fantasize about him, making me breathless as he pleasures me for hours at a time.

I’d also be lying if I said I didn’t want to know what he was thinking about this. About us. Or if I didn’t wonder if he was going to somehow use this against me later for something, too.

Today, I try my hardest to keep thoughts of him off my mind though. I’ve already messed up two tours and if I mess up a third, I’m pretty sure Michelle is going to ask, “What happened to the girl I first hired? Bring her back. Now.”

I pull the shades to the gallery’s window and prepare for my last three tours of the day. I’m determined not to make any mistakes on these.

***

When I get off later that night (I decide to work a few hours of overtime), I notice Dean leaning against his squad car across the street.

“Are you here to give me another ticket?” I say, walking over to him. “What’s the offense this time?”

“It’s technically jay-walking.” He points to the light. “You should’ve waited to cross the street just then.

I hold out my hand. “Where’s the ticket?”

He gently pushes my hand away. “Where’s your car?”

“Three blocks up.”

“Do you need a ride?”

“No, thanks,” I say, but he opens the passenger door anyway. I consider walking away, but I decide to go with it.

He shuts the door as I climb inside, and he cranks the engine once he’s inside.