She responds quickly. A good sign, even if it’s just one word.

Me: Something black and lacy…

I wait for about twenty minutes, but she doesn’t write back. Against my better judgment I double-text, hoping she doesn’t read the desperation between the lines.

Me: Shoot me some pics and i’d be happy to check your work ;)

Nothing. Guess she’s pissed. I refuse to write again. Two unanswered texts is bordering on loser territory, but three is straight up pathetic. I can’t help myself from checking my phone every five minutes like some ridiculous teenage chick, hoping for nudes. Around lunch I cave and text again with something she’ll have to respond to.

Me: We still on for Tuesday?

She doesn’t write back. For hours. It’s six o’clock now and I’m angry. Maybe I was a dick yesterday, but that’s no reason to play these games. I’m not putting up with three more weeks of her pouting just because I don’t play the doting boyfriend. I’m not her boyfriend. She can’t say she’s fine with that then flip out. I grab my keys and head to her place, determined to either get her to talk to me or quit this charade.

I don’t knock, waltzing right into her apartment like I own the place. Why give her another chance to ignore me? She’s standing in the kitchen and our eyes lock immediately. Her face flashes with the same panicked expression she always gets when I push her boundaries. I cross my arms and give her my most devious smirk in response. I’m surprised when she rushes toward me instead of her usual running away and hiding.

“What are you doing here?” she grumbles, as if my presence is an insult. I don’t bother answering. I reach out and grab her, palming her ass with one hand and pulling her against me. I kiss her hard. Fisting her hair, I tilt her head to slide my tongue between her open lips and deepen the kiss.

This isn’t like our PG-13 make-out sessions. It’s possessive and dominant. I’m claiming her mouth and telling her I will not be ignored. It’s a war, her body our battlefield and my tongue the invading army. She’s rising to my challenge as our mouths crash against each other, fighting for breath. I’m lost in the passionate struggle when the sound of someone else stirring in the room rips her attention from me. She pulls away and my eyes search for the source of the distraction. It’s a man. I’m instantly defensive.