My hands are all over her while she tries to unlock her door. She retreats, just long enough to get the key in the hole and kick the door open. We enter in a daze. I slam it shut with my foot, my mouth never leaving hers. We trip over ourselves to get to her couch. Her ass hits the arm of it and she falls back, her knees resting over it. I look down at her; her chest rising and falling, her dress hitched up, revealing more of her creamy thighs. I groan and close my eyes, trying to fight the urge to spread her legs, drop to my knees and devour her...

“Ky!”

My eyes snap open. She’s leaning up on her elbows now, watching me curiously. I blink a few times, willing the buzz of the alcohol and the uncontrollable lust to back the fuck off for just one second so I can calm the fuck down.

And then she licks her goddamn lips.

And that’s all it takes.

I lose it.

My mouth crashes down on hers.

Her legs wrap around mine.

I start to remove her sweater; she reaches for the buttons of my shirt. We laugh, clumsily undressing each other. She moans when she undoes the last button of my shirt and her fingers lay flat on my stomach. I try to get her sweater past her elbows, but she’s too busy fumbling with my belt. She leans up slightly, causing me to move back. I watch her face; her unfocused eyes and her overly exaggerated pout. Her lids are heavy as she curses—her eyebrows drawn, fixated on unfastening my belt.

Then she looks up, her chest heaving.

I stay still, waiting for her to finish.

“It won’t...” she murmurs.

Her eyes flick to my belt, and then back up at me.

And I see it—an insecure innocence that has me questioning everything.

“Madison,” I whisper.

“I just...”

I cover her hand with mine. “Madison,” I say, louder, firmer.

With a shaky breath, she gazes back up at me.

I groan internally. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this.”

“What?” she breathes.

I let out a frustrated grunt. I’ll regret this in the morning. Hell, I’ll regret it in five seconds. “I should go home.”

She yanks her hands away and sits taller. “What? Why?”

My eyes roam her face, down her incredible body, and back up again. Yeah, I’m already regretting it. “I just...we’ve been drinking. You’re drunk...and I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“Oh,” she whispers, dropping her gaze. “Oh my god...” She lifts her sweater back over her shoulders, hugging it tightly around her. “Okay. Yeah...” She gets off the couch but refuses to look at me.

“Madison?”

She starts toward her door. “No. You’re right. This was...” She opens the door for me but keeps her head lowered. I stand in front of her and try to reach for her hand. She yanks it away and holds it to her chest.

“Will you please look at me?” I beg.

She shakes her head. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

She stays silent a moment, then her quiet whimper breaks through. “I’m so embarrassed right now. Can you just leave? Please.”

I bend my knees to look in her eyes.

She moves her head to the side, avoiding me.

“Maddy...”

“Please?” she cries.

“Maddy, don’t do this.”

“It’s fine.” She still refuses to look at me as she grabs me by my shirt and spins me around, pushing me out of her apartment. “I just need you to go.”

MADISON

All that time wasted on cherishing the idea of a dinner and movie date...and this is what I get?

What a stupid cliché.

8

KY

Training this morning was a whole lot of fun.

Not.

I was pissed off and angry at the world.

Then Gunner made it worse by existing.

I took out my anger on him.

He looked terrified.

I wish I could say it helped—but it had zero effect.

Now, I was pacing my living room, just like I’d been doing for the past hour. Finally, I open my door, take two steps to hers, and knock.

Nothing.

Great. She’s ignoring me.

I wait a few seconds before knocking again. This time her door opens, just enough so she could peek through it.

I smile, hoping it’s enough. “Hi.”

“What’s up?”

“Can I come in?”

She shakes her head, opens the door wider—just slightly—and steps out.

“What’s up?” she asks again.

My eyes narrow at her now closed door. “You got someone in there?”

“Ky.”

And now she’s avoiding my questions. Fucking perfect.

“Did you want something?” she says, her chin in the air like she’s attempting to rein in whatever confidence I’d stripped from her last night.

“I wanted to apologize.”

“Is that all?”

With a shrug, I say, “I guess.”

I watch her open her door and squeeze back in through the tiny opening she’d made for herself.

There has to be someone in there. Someone she doesn’t want me to see. Probably a guy she has on speed dial to physically take away the pain I’d caused.

I want to puke.

Instead, I go back in my apartment, shower, and make my way to stupid fucking therapy.

***

“How’s things going with the girl?” is the first thing Doctor Aroma asks when I get in her office.

“It’s not.”

“No? Why not? Did something happen?”

“I think I’d like today to be one of those silent sessions where you just judge me and make me feel shittier than I already do.”

She picks up her pen and notepad and starts scribbling.

I stare out the window.

This lasts for an hour.

I tell her time’s up.

She waves goodbye.

9

KY

My phone rings.

I feel around my nightstand for it; eyes still closed and my body unwilling to wake up. When I finally find it, I hit answer and lift it to my ear, groaning into it.

“Parker.”

DeLuca.

Perfect. Just fucking perfect.

“What fucking time is it?”

Seconds of silence pass. “I need you to meet me. Now.”

I throw the covers off of me and rub my eyes. “Where?”

“I’ll text you.”

When he’s hung up, I check the time; six in the goddamn morning. And now I’m officially pissed because no longer do I have control of anything in my life, but now DeLuca feels he has the right to bark orders at me.

And I have no fucking choice but to obey.

***

“Are you a cop?” DeLuca asks, taking a sip of his drink. We’re sitting in a Deli around the corner from my apartment. It’s completely empty, apart from the seedy looking guy fucking around on his phone behind the counter.

“Do I look like a cop?” I say, attempting to sound bored. I hadn’t told Jackson that I was meeting with DeLuca, and now I’m starting to regret it.

DeLuca leans forward and narrows his eyes. “What’s your story, Parker?”

I shrug. “I’m between jobs.”