My arm stretches out toward the empty side of the bed. I haven't stopped reaching for him in the dark since we broke up, and each time I do, it makes me feel more alone. Even when I was with Jared, there'd be that half-second where my sleepy mind would trick me into thinking I was touching Rafael.

My hand slides between my legs in an attempt to take away the edgy yearning that's filled my body. As I touch the sensitive spot between my legs, I imagine his full, sensual mouth near mine, exhaling to my inhale. The way he'll pin my arms above my head, his index fingers nestled in my palms. How his hand will grip the back of my neck when I'm on top of him, drawing me near.

Tonight he'll be next to me, ready for the taking whenever I want. However I desire. If I want his body in the middle of the night, I have no doubt he'll allow me to do whatever I need.

I'll also submit to his demands, just as I used to.

And if I want to snuggle against his chest or sleep in his arms, he'll be inches away, ready and waiting. At least, I hope he'll want those things, too.

It's that intimacy, not the sex, that's the dangerous part...

It's that intimacy, not the sex, that's the dangerous part

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Years ago, all of Justine's friends thought I was a good boyfriend

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Years ago, all of Justine's friends thought I was a good boyfriend. Back in college, they'd adored me and always asked if I had a brother.

"Find me a guy like him," Diana would say, jerking her thumb in my direction and making a silly face at Justine.

I know for a fact that she'd told Justine not to leave me, because after Justine flew to Central America, Diana and I ran into each other one night at a bar on South Beach.

"It's complicated," Diana had shouted at me over loud dance music. "I tried to get her to stay. All she'd tell me is that you wouldn't listen to her."

"But that's not true," I'd protested. "I was just sick of her moping around and thought she needed tough love. Justine's a strong girl."

Apparently, my version of tough love had been too, well, tough. Over the years, I'd told myself that Justine just didn't have the passion for a full life with a man like me. A man who wanted it all. I'd only half-believed my own bullshit, but I'd believed it enough to keep an angry spark alive all these years. Justine chose her career and her father over me. She chose this shitty newspaper.

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