“But if I do, I need you to be totally over her. I don’t think that’s entirely unreasonable. Do you?” I waited. “Can you hear me?”

Silence.

I sighed and leaned against the vanity with its chipped Formica and rusted drawer pulls. The faucet leaked, and over the years, a black drip stain had formed just above the chrome ring of the drain.

The tip of my thumb was at my mouth, and I nibbled at the skin around my nail, trying to think of what to say next. Maybe he didn’t want to hear anything I had to say.

I stood up and slipped my blouse over my head and then pulled off my tall boots. It took some effort to remove my skinny denim jeans, but the socks slipped off without effort. Thank God I’d thought to shave that morning. The long black strands of my hair fell over my breasts, so I didn’t feel quite so vulnerable, and I took the two steps toward the shower door.

I tugged once and then again. By the time it opened, Thomas was facing my direction with his eyes closed, lathered shampoo running down his face. He wiped the soap away and glanced at me, and then he quickly rinsed his face and looked again, his eyebrows pushing toward his hairline.

I shut the door behind me. “Are you listening?”

Thomas lifted his chin. “I’ll start listening when you do.”

“We can talk later,” I said, closing my eyes and pulling his face down so that my lips could reach his.

He grabbed my wrists and held me at bay. “I realize what our predicament is this weekend, but I’m done playing games with you. I don’t want to pretend anymore. I just want you.”

“I’m standing right in front of you.” I pressed my body against his, feeling his impressive erection against my stomach.

His breath faltered, and he closed his eyes, the water pouring from his hair down to his face before falling from his nose and chin.

“But will you stay?” He looked down at me.

I frowned. “Thomas…”

“Will you stay?” he asked again, emphasizing the last word.

“Define stay.”

He took a step back, the spell gone. He reached over and pulled the lever down, and ice-cold water began to pour over us. Thomas flattened his palms against the wall under the spout, letting his head fall, and I squealed, clawing at the door to escape.

I pushed out and slipped, falling to the floor onto my knees.

Thomas burst out of the door, reaching for me. “Christ! Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I said, rubbing my elbow and then my knee.

Thomas grabbed a towel that was folded over the top of the shower door and draped it over my shoulders, and then he ripped another off the rack and wrapped it around his waist.

He shook his head. “Are you hurt?”

“Just my pride.”