As soon as Cal looked over his shoulder and saw it was me, he scrambled, his feet and novel hitting the floor. I was surprised to see he looked relieved, as if he’d been waiting for me, though I hadn’t known I would ever come. Maybe I had known though and hoped I wouldn’t.

“Should I—” Rosie began, but Cal didn’t give him a chance to finish his question, telling him with certainty to “go.”

The chorus moll didn’t say a word to me as he scampered out, closing the door behind him so carefully that I barely heard it catch.

“You disappeared,” Cal stated, creaking across the old floorboards to stand in front of me. He seemed equal parts perplexed and pissed and looked more powerfully prepossessing than I recalled, though his image in my mind had remained immaculate over the months.

“I didn’t think you would notice,” I admitted, sniffing uncomfortably as I nudged my knuckle against the side of my nose, trying not to gaze directly into his eyes, as if doing so would be staring at the sun.

“What gave you that impression?” he asked, his tone genuine. He placed his palm on my cheek and, in spite of myself, I sighed into the touch. “Was it how I kissed you? How I held you? How I spoke to you that made you believe that?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“I guess the way you are,” I answered, trembling as he untucked my shirt. I was a strong, capable, intimidating gangster who turned to putty in his hands. I couldn’t comprehend how he softened me and made me hard all at once.

“How am I?” Cal questioned, deftly working the buttons.

“Not like me,” I replied, as he slipped the garment off my shoulders.

“I'm just like you,” he promised, leaning down to press his lips against my collarbone, sending shivers down my spine. I wanted his mouth on mine, and on my chest, down my stomach, below my undergarments, everywhere. I wanted him to have ten mouths so they could all be on me while I put my ten on him.

Unable to hold back any longer, I tilted my head to slot my only mouth onto Cal’s, charged by the electricity snapping through my veins. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I kissed him back to the bed, sizzling and sloppy with need. Papers crumpled beneath us as we rolled on the comforter, undressing one another with as much haste as patience we exhibited over months of wanting. He’d wanted me, the way I’d wanted him. He was feverish for me like I was for him.