The craving of wanting him hasn’t faded away with the dawn of a new day. It’s still there, in the forefront of my mind, the promises and desires he’s insinuated being brought to fruition.

Do I wish he was here, a wicked gleam in his eye as his hand slides up my legs, higher and higher?

Do I want him on his knees before me, wet hair tickling my inner thigh?

Am I picturing him pushing me against the tiled wall, hiking my foot onto his hip while he goes to town, pounding into me until I can’t take anymore?

Are you a good girl who knows how to listen?

Pressing my back against the smooth surface behind me, I give in, just for a second. A quick moment of weakness. I pinch my nipples, hands moving from my chest down to my stomach, thumb grazing against my clit. I reposition myself so the stream of water hits me in the prefect spot, replacing the need for my thumb.

Sliding a finger inside myself, my eyes snap closed, reveling in the sensation. The stretch. The fullness that encompasses me. I take a deep breath, about to add a second digit, when I hear the bedroom door slam closed.

“Emma? Are you still in there?”

Fuck.

Steadying my breathing, I resist the urge to bang my head against the sliding glass door.

“Yeah,” I call back.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes! I just… it took me a minute to figure out how to turn the shower on.” I wince at the horrible line, washing the rest of the soap off and ignoring the throbbing between my legs.

“Cool. I’m going to shower in my parents’ room. I’ll be back soon.”

The door slams and I curse, turning off the water and snatching a towel off the rack.

I rummage through my suitcase, putting on a sweater, jeans, and a pair of boots. I style my hair in a quick French braid, tying a hair tie around the end when I hear a knock.

“Come in!”

Henry reenters the room, eyes downcast, and head bowed. “Are you decent?”

“Yeah. All clear.”

“Running usually helps calm me down. Not the case today, it seems. I didn’t get hit by a car, either. A shame.”

“Was that your intention?” I laugh, checking my reflection in the mirror. He’s also dressed casually, wearing jeans and a long-sleeved henley shirt with Converse on his feet. I’ve only seen him out of business attire twice this decade: the night we did the escape room and the night at the bar. This morning, he looks really freaking good, one of those men who can wear everything and wear it well. With the laid-back outfit and scuffed up sneakers, perhaps we aren’t as different as I assumed we were.