“You said you were still living in your old house. I remembered the address. I looked you up online.”

Something sharp twists inside me. Something cuts my soft and secret places. He sees it on my face.

“When the ad came up for the carriage house, I thought it must be a sign,” Christian says.

I swallow hard. “A sign for what?”

“That you and me,” he gestures back and forth between us, “aren’t finished with each other yet.”

“There is no you and me, Christian. There never was.”

“No? You sure about that?”

“One hundred percent.” My answer comes out in a whisper. Not convincing either one of us.

He laughs and turns in an unhurried circle to face me, his hands on his hips. His fingers make a V toward his crotch. His voice is bland. Neutral. But his eyes are cold.

“You tried to ghost me,” he says.

My vindication is almost incandescent. He took me into his hotel room because he wanted me, and I was the one who walked away. I hurt him. I left a mark. Maybe this one won’t fade.

“So you’re going to get back at me by moving into my carriage house?”

“I need a place to live during my residency,” he says. “And this way, you can’t ignore me again.”

“Find another place to live, Christian.”

He laughs and shakes his head. He looks around the room, then fixes his gaze on mine. “No.”

Hot and cold, suddenly feverish, I clench my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering. “If you’re planning to tell my husband—”

His laugh cuts off my words. He waves a hand. “Why would I do that?”

“Revenge?”

Now he moves toward me, now he takes me by the upper arms, his fingers pinching deep into my flesh, now he slants his mouth over mine … but he does not kiss me. I should fight this, but I’m incapable of moving. I imagine biting his lips the way I once bit his shoulder.

Christian’s eyes hold mine for a moment before he lets me go and steps back. “This might come as a shock to you, but med school is expensive. I’ve got loans. And I’m not making surgeon money yet. So a cheap place to live is exactly what I need right now, and this is a very, very cheap place to live.”

I pivot on my heel to leave. He says my name. I hesitate.

“We both know you wanted to. We both know you still want to. C’mon, Jewelann. You remember how good it was with us.”

I turn around.

“I already told you, there was no us,” I hiss. “You’re the one who always made that clear. Remember?”

His gaze sharpens, then softens, becoming a caress all over me. “I remember how you taste and smell, and how your body feels when I touch it. I remember the sound you make when you come. Tell me something, Jewelann, how long has it been since you made that sound?”