“What are you doing here?” I questioned as soon as I opened the door for Robert.

He didn’t even answer as he pushed past me, entering my apartment and taking it upon himself to shut the door, locking it.

“Break up with your boyfriend,” he insisted.

“Well, hello to you, too.” I folded my arms over my chest.

“Hi, princess.”

I softened just a little bit at the moniker. Conceited bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

“Now break up with Colin.”

“Co—”

His hand sliced through the air, indicating that it would not be in my best interest to complete his name.

“Robert, we—” Again my statement was cut off when Robert wrapped both of his hands around the sides of my face and pulled me into a kiss. Our first in five years.

I knew it was wrong. I was in a committed relationship. I loved Cohen. I thought.

But when Robert pressed our lips together, I released a breath that I felt like I’d been holding for eternity. Or for a half a decade.

I melted against his body, parting my lips and moaning when his tongue first made contact with mine. He tasted like a place I’d only been to once, but had always wanted to return to and bury myself into forever.

We kissed, forgetting our need for oxygen, while Robert’s hands trailed up and down the sides of my waist. He was getting reacquainted with my body, and God if it didn’t turn me the hell on. His kiss flowed between impatient and needy to slow and seductive. I reached up, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, pulling him into me.

I startled when my back was pressed against my door.

Robert’s hands sunk to the tops of my sweatpants.

That was when my common sense returned. I covered his hands with mine, pulling away from the kiss, panting as my lungs desperately searched for air.

“Robert, we can’t.”

His jaw tightened, jaw flexing.

When I pushed away from him, my body was shaky and I hugged myself, running my hands up and down my arms, all of a sudden feeling cold without his embrace.

“I can’t just break up with someone I’ve been with for two years just because you say so,” I insisted, trying to sound confident in my decision. “It wouldn’t be fair to him.”

“Fuck fair,” he growled.

My shoulders pulled downward as I dropped my hands to my sides. “What do you mean fuck fair? You can’t always get what you want.”

“I mean exactly what I said. Fuck fair.”

“Robert.”

“Fine. You want to talk about fairness. Is it fair to him that you’re thinking of me whenever he kisses you, touches you? Does he know that even after five years, you still lay in bed at night thinking of me? Using those dainty little fingers of yours to make that pretty pussy come in only the way I can make it come? Does he know that?”

I gasped, my eyes going wide with embarrassment at his words. “Get out!” I yelled.