My knees buckle, but Mal keeps me on my feet, his hand clasping the back of my neck as he withdraws what’s left of the chocolate bar slowly. I can feel my sticky thighs gluing together, the gooey, melted milk chocolate dense over my flesh.

Mal lifts the bar between us, and it’s ruined, molten, the white waffle sticking out.

“Hungry?” he asks coolly.

I shake my head, feeling my tears fly everywhere.

I cheated on Callum, just like my mom cheated on the guy she left behind for Glen. I’m no better than her.

Mal takes a bite of the chocolate, shrugging, and suddenly, my mouth waters. I am so, so hungry. Without asking me again, he angles the bar toward my mouth.

“Tastes like you.” He licks his lips.

I take a tentative bite, then another one. I finish off the bar. I barely have time to swallow before his lips crash down on mine, and I moan into his mouth, helpless.

I wish I could rewire my thoughts back to my boyfriend. Or that Callum was an abusive, awful man who had it coming. But this is not the case.

But the truth is, I can’t.

The truth is, I don’t think I ever could, even before I met Mal in New York again. The cracks were always there, weeds slipping through them, even when Callum and I were a normal couple facing normal issues. I always compared him to Mal. I longed to feel Mal’s lips on mine, his heady scent wrapped around me like a collar, owning me without even trying. The difference was, I didn’t feel guilty, because the possibility of that ever happening seemed unlikely.

In the unlikely event.

I whimper as Mal takes my face in both his hands and deepens the kiss, growling like a beast. His tongue meets mine halfway, and my eyelids drop shut.

My phone pings, and I rip my mouth from his, snapping out of the moment. I’m cupping my face as I scurry to the breakfast nook. I flip it over to see the number on the screen.

Callum.

It’s like he has a sixth sense. How did he know?

“Hey, love,” he says, sounding cheerful when I answer. “Summer called me. She told me about Richards running off. What a wanker. She suggested I hop on a plane to keep you company. What do you reckon? Still want me to come for New Year’s?”

I look up and see Mal with his elbow propped on the side of the fridge, raising his eyebrows in a really? look. I shake my head. My thighs are cemented together with dried chocolate. What have I done?

I look away from Mal, clearing my throat.

“Yes!” I say, trying to match his jovial tone. “Please come over. I would love to have you here.”