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The length of his body was hard against mine. Crushing.

I wanted him. God, I wanted him. My nipples strained against my shirt, dampness growing fast between my legs.

“Will,” I said when he pulled his lips a half-inch from mine. “I…” I wanted him, but I couldn’t say it. It was like if I admitted it, I’d have to admit it to myself too. Instead, I brought my teeth down on his bottom lip.

He groaned, his one hand dipping behind my neck, the other popping the top button of my shirt open. Suddenly, I had no words. None at all.

We couldn’t stay like this. We were hidden from the door of the kitchen in this alcove, but it wasn’t really private. The sounds of the movie filtered in faintly, as if a reminder.

But I didn’t want to stop. I couldn’t.

“Michelle,” Will whispered in my ear. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Day and fucking night. You’re like the air I breathe. I wake up with your scent on my fucking sheets as if you’ve been there.”

One more of my buttons popped open under his fingers, and then his hand, skin rough and hard and hot, slid into my shirt, and under my bra, too. His palm cupped my bare breast, his thumb brushing against the point of my nipple.

This time I couldn’t contain the gasp as his leg slid between mine. Heat and pleasure shot through me as he shifted his hands to my hips, rocking me on his thigh. He knew what he was doing.

Then something thumped out in the living room and he froze.

“Fuck,” he said, backing away. There was a noticeable bulge in his pants. We both stood silent, waiting, a few feet apart. Our eyes were locked together.

One of the girls laughed and an explosion sounded on the screen, followed by happy shrieks.

Will was tense, his hands at his sides, like he was fighting himself. Then he closed the distance once more and kissed me hard, sliding his hands under my thighs and then lifting me so my legs were wrapped around him. He took a step and when my back hit the wall, he thrust his hips toward me as if he were actually fucking me.

I gasped, the sensation of his hardness between my legs too much.

Then he growled, lowering me to the ground and backing away once more.

“We can’t do this,” he said, his voice so tight it sounded like it might snap.

I stood there, panting.

He was still angry.

“Just say it,” I said.

He worked his jaw, his hand going through his hair. “I can’t believe you asked me to do that,” he said, finally.

The heat of what we’d just done sharpened, funneling back into my own anger. “Is it really so bad? I’m just asking you for help,” I said, biting the words out. I did up the buttons on my shirt in angry twists. Didn’t he know how hard it was for me to ask? “I need this blog,” I said. I couldn’t explain how much.

“I’d do anything for you,” Will said. “But I won’t be your sham fucking boyfriend. Especially not—”

He shook his head, bending down and swiping up the wine glasses, which we’d miraculously managed not to break. “I should never have let that happen. I’m sorry.”

The thing was, I wasn’t. If he’d kept going, and it weren’t for the kids out there, I would have kept going too. I wasn’t sure I’d ever wanted anything more at that moment. But I couldn’t tell him that. I’d already thrown myself out there, made a fool of myself by asking him about the blog. I wouldn’t do it again.

And he was leaving.

Will moved to the sink, and for the second time that night, I watched his muscles work under his shirt. Only now they were tense. Hard with upset.

I wouldn’t let him. I’d go first. Awkward, because it was my kitchen. “I’m going to go check on the kids,” I said, my voice hard. “It’s past the girls’ bedtime.”

“We should be going anyway,” he said, turning. For a moment, our eyes stayed locked together. It was so different than that moment earlier when our eyes had met with anger, and again just now with need.

He’d wanted me. I knew he did. But he was a picture of self-flagellation. He didn’t want this.

“Okay, well, thank you for coming. Thanks for the wine and… I guess I’ll see you,” I said, brushing by him.