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I slide my hand up her bare arm, watching the goosebumps rise in my wake. “Do you want small talk, or do you want to feel good?”

Her breath catches. I already know the answer. She’s here to fuck.

Five minutes later, we’re in the alley behind the club. Her back is against the brick wall. Her dress is shoved up to her hips. Her nails scrape down my arms as I slip a hand between her thighs, finding her already soaked for me.

I don’t think of Sienna.

Not when the girl moans into my mouth. Not when she gasps as I push two fingers inside her. Not when she begs for more.

But I do when I bury myself inside her and she whimpers, head falling back against the wall.

Because she doesn’t sound like Sienna.

Doesn’t feel like her.

Doesn’t look at me with those fire-lit eyes that make me want to ruin her.

I grip the girl’s hips harder, thrusting deeper, chasing something I can’t quite reach. It’s not enough. It should be. But it’s fucking not.

Her moans grow louder. She’s close. I could pull back, leave her aching, walk away without a second thought. But Idon’t. I let her come, feeling her tighten around me, dragging me over the edge with her. My head falls forward as I spill inside the condom, muscles locking, jaw clenched so tight it hurts.

It’s only after, when I step back and fix my jeans, that I realize my hands are shaking.

Not from pleasure. From frustration.

From knowing that no matter how many girls I fuck, how many bodies I bury myself in, I’ll still want the one I can’t have.

The girl straightens her dress, giving me a dazed smile. “That was…”

“Yeah,” I cut in. I don’t care what she thinks it was. I don’t wait for her to say anything else before I turn and walk away.

I head to my car and dial Maya on my phone.

“Hey, stranger,” Maya answers my call. I hate how flirtatious she sounds. “Miss me finally?”

“What?” I say.

She giggles. “You never call me anymore. I thought once we broke up, maybe you’d call or send an occasional text, but you completely ghosted.”

“We broke up,” I defend myself.

“Why are you calling me if you’re going to be such a dick.”

I exhale. “I came three times today.”

I hear her clapping and her voice drips of sarcasm. “Congrats, asshole.”

“Not once did I think of you,” I add.

She laughs. “Then why the fuck are you calling me?”

“I just thought I’d let you know I moved on, and you should, too.”

“Yeah, like I’m sitting here in London crying over you, Caleb. Get the fuck over yourself,” she says in a malicious tone and ends the call.

That’s all the closure I need. I get into my car and lean back. My skin still smells Sienna’s perfume, but under it, I swear I catch something else.

Something sweeter. Something familiar.