Alix walked blindly through the forest, seeking the calm she’d found before in the same place and not finding it.

It wasn’t worth it. None of it was worth it.

It was a mistake for her to even bother trying.

Feeling utterly miserable, she stomped into the cabin, dragged off her boots and locked the door.

She didn’t want callers. She didn’t want conversation. Relationships, even friendship—right now, especially friendship—were exhausting. From now on she’d keep her relationships superficial.

Zac was standing in the window, talking on the phone. A glass of red wine rested on the table near his hand.

He turned as she walked into the room. Reading something in her face, he stopped in midsentence.

“I’ll call you back.” He slid the phone into his pocket.

He was dressed all in black. Black jeans that hugged his thighs. Black sweater that hugged his shoulders. His hair was damp from a recent shower.

Sex, she thought as she let her gaze travel from shoulder to thigh. The only relationships she was good at were short-term and physical, so that was what she was focusing on from now on. No complications.

He raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“What?”

“You said ‘sex.’”

“I said that aloud?”

“Yes.” The corners of his mouth flickered. “Just so I’m clear, was it a request or an order?”

This was fast becoming one of the worst days she’d had in a long time.

On the other hand, why not? It was exactly what she needed. If her memory served her correctly, he’d proved himself to be particularly gifted in that department. She might have forgotten things she’d said that night, but she hadn’t forgotten anything they’d done. The sex had been spectacular. If it hadn’t been muddled up with emotions, it would have been the single best night of her life. And now here she was, her mind clear of emotion. She knew exactly what she wanted. What she needed. He’d made it clear he wanted the same. So why not go for it?

“Is that wine good?” Without waiting for an answer, she picked it up and drank. “It is good.”

“I thought so.” He watched her carefully. “Would you like a glass of your own?”

“Yours is fine.” She finished it. “We might need a top-up.”

He studied her for a moment and then fetched the bottle. “You seem upset. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” She put the glass down, and he refilled it, his hand steady. “Could you put the bottle down?”

He paused, the bottle in midair. “I was going to—”

“Right now. I don’t want you to spill the wine when I kiss you.”

He put the bottle down, his gaze fixed on her face. “Alix—”

She grabbed the front of his sweater and tugged him toward her. Lifting herself onto her toes, she pressed her mouth to his, and he kissed her back without hesitation. The heat of it unsteadied her, and she held on to him for support. His hands cupped her head. Her fingers dug into the dense muscle of his shoulders. The rush of arousal drove everything else from her head. There was only the physical. The rapid beat of her heart. The touch of his hands, the silken stroke of his tongue.