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I don’t feel an ounce of relief though. I hoped these were just passing thoughts I was having about Marlow.

Some delusions of attraction brought on by that little green dress and an extra beer or two last night.

I expected them to be gone and forgotten by morning, but now they are bigger and brighter in my head than ever before, practically burning a hole in my frontal lobe.

I can still taste her. I can still feel her lips on mine.

Neither of us talks about the kiss. In fact, we widely avoid any form of conversation for the first hour of our drive. Any bits that slip through are lazy comments about the weather or the view. By the time we hit Tennessee, we’ve progressed to talking about Abby’s youth program.

She’s in the middle of detailing the changes they made to Hunter’s old cabin when she cuts herself off mid-sentence.

“I’m surprised you’re interested in all this,” she says.

I shrug.

“You’re not plotting to Hansel and Gretel these kids or something, are you? Am I inadvertently playing into your plan by giving you all this information?” she laughs.

“Isn’t Hansel and Gretel about a crazy forest witch? That sounds more like your deal.”

“So, you just like kids then?”

I shrug again. “I used to be in Boy Scouts. I think programs like that are good for kids.”

“Yeah, they are,” she says slowly. “Bet you were cute in your Boy Scouts uniform.”

I smile but don’t say anything. She wouldn’t think I was cute in my Eagle Scouts uniform when I was a senior in high school.

None of the other girls did either. It’s sort of a sore spot with me, but I loved it so much that I wouldn’t give it up…

even at the expense of my popularity. Not that I ever had any to begin with.

“Abby’s doing a good thing, and I want to help out however I can,” I say.

“Me too.”

We don’t talk again for a long time.

Eventually, I give up on trying not to think about almost-naked Marlow. Her little sundress makes it impossible not to think about those perfect little imperfections.

My mind wanders to Marlow telling off that woman at our table, the way she laughed at our private jokes, the way she relaxed against me, the way she snorted herself awake in the middle of the night. The way she kissed me back.

And then I realize I’m sitting there next to her with a giant, dopey grin plastered across my face.

Fuck. I like Marlow.

My stomach drops as the words come together in my brain.

It’s just a crush. We had a good time together and I just need to get her out of my system.

Luckily, Marlow is still looking out the window in the opposite direction as I force the corners of my mouth back into a straight line and try to think about something else. Koalas, burritos, washing machines.

That fucking kiss.

___

Back at Marlow’s place, it’s difficult to navigate through the crowd of people inside the deli, especially with Marlow’s giant suitcase in tow. By the time we arrive at the top of the stairs, it feels like we just fought our way through a mosh pit.

Marlow unlocks the door. I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding when she walks inside and pushes the door open for me to follow.

I’ll see her tomorrow, but it will be different then.

I need more of her right now. I need to figure out what this is between us and if she feels it, too.

She kissed me back at the hotel. It felt like she wanted more, but if this weekend proved anything, it’s that Marlow is great at pretending.

I set her suitcase in the middle of her living room.

“Thanks for carrying that up for me,” she says, motioning at the bag.

I nod and clear my throat for words that don’t come. We both stand there silently, unsure of how a fake weekend together is supposed to end.

“I need to kiss you again,” I finally say.

If Marlow is surprised by these words, she doesn’t show it. She’s stiff, like she was bracing for them long before I let them fall out of my mouth. She swallows slowly and nods.

“Okay.” Her voice breaks.

I take a couple slow steps toward her. Our eyes are locked on each other until I reach up and run my fingers along her jaw and across her lips.

She closes her eyes for a few seconds. When I tilt her face up to mine, Marlow steals a short glance at me just before I close my eyes.

We slant our mouths over each other, picking up right where we left off.

The moment gives way to hot, wet, needy movements of our lips and tongue.

My fingers are rougher as they travel down her neck, through the valley of her breasts, and down her stomach.

I spread my fingers over the soft curve of her lower belly, the place I’ve been dying to touch since I saw her exposed and blushing last night.

Marlow’s back is pressed against the wall, her front pressed against me.

All her soft curves mold to fit me. My hardness rests at the cleft of her legs.

My lips move down her neck, planting long, hot kisses along her jaw and down her throat.

She moans into my ear – a sweet but primal noise that I would never imagine her making.

A subtle roll of her hips against mine is all it takes to make me fucking wild. The brush of her pussy over my painfully hard cock…even through all our layers of clothing. I pin her harder against the wall, pressing against her until her breath hitches.

“Tell me you want this,” I say against her neck.

Because fuck , I need it. I need her. Whether it’s to get her out of my system or let her under my skin, I’m not sure.

“I need it,” she moans. “Please, Ryan.”

I push away enough to create an inch of space between us. Marlow stays pinned to the wall as if it’s the only thing holding her up.

“Spread your legs.”

She complies and I run my hand up the soft skin of her thigh to the thin strip of fabric between her legs, intending to just rub her lightly there. But when I find that fabric drenched and clinging to her, I greedily pull it aside and run my fingers over her bare, slippery flesh.

“So fucking wet,” I whisper as I slip a finger inside of her, slow and deep, curling my fingertips against that soft, smooth place that makes her moan and clench around my fingers.

She’s grinding into my hand, looking for even more. More of me, more of her, more of this.

Instead, I slide my finger out of her and watch the delicious moment of torment on her face. Her eyes open enough to take in my satisfied smile. I want to make her beg. I want to make her come unraveled. I want to watch her come just for me.

“Please,” she whispers.

I push back into her with two fingers this time. My thumb works circles over her clit. Marlow’s legs shake and she steadies herself by grasping my shoulders.

She’s close. So close. I can feel the way she tightens around me.

But then she pulls back. She’s still panting and dripping and moaning, but I feel the shift, like a reset button deep inside her. She’s still chasing it, but she’s not right there anymore.

I don’t know who needs her to come more – me or her.

I lean in, kissing her deeply again while keeping my pace on her clit. She melts into me. I can feel it building in her again.

“Do you need more?” I whisper into her mouth.

Marlow nods, whimpers, squirms as I push a third finger into her. She’s so tight, but she wants it so badly. I want it so badly.

“Good girl…such a good fucking girl …taking another finger for me…”

I’m whispering all the dirty thoughts that float through my head, hoping one of them will be the one to push her over the edge. Marlow laps each of them up, clenching, pleading, moaning my name. Driving me wild. Getting so, so close.

And then I feel it slip away again.

I pull my hand away, but I’m not giving up. I could do this all day. Fuck, I could do this all week.

“Where’s your bedroom?” I ask. Maybe she needs to lie down and relax into it.

Marlow slumps against the wall. She draws in a breath so long that it must reach her toes.

“I can’t,” she says on a long exhale. When she opens her eyes, a tear rolls down her cheek.

I’m jolted back to reality. I reach up, cupping her face and lightly brushing the tear away.

“Marlow, what’s wrong? Tell me I didn’t hurt you.”

“No.” It’s a hiccup of a word. “But you will. I can’t do this with you.”

I take a step back and scrub my hand over my face.

Marlow is already fixing her underwear and smoothing her dress back into place.

Her lips are swollen, her skin is flushed with heat, and her breath is ragged.

It’s a picture I’ll never get out of my head, just like her undressing in the hotel room last night.

But I know it’s all I’ll ever get, and I need to hear her say it. I need the woman in front of me to tell me that I don’t have a chance in hell with her ever again so I can get past this... thing …I’m feeling.

“Talk to me, Marlow. Tell me what’s going on.”

She tenses and looks everywhere but at me. It feels like shit to ask this beautiful woman to let me down, easy or not.

“I’m sorry,” she starts. Her voice is sympathetic, maybe even a little sad. “I shouldn’t have asked you to kiss me. I knew it would make things messy between us.”

“It doesn’t have to be messy,” I say. It comes out with no conviction at all, probably because I know it’s a lie the minute the words leave my mouth.

I do this sort of thing all the time – uncomplicated hookups with uncomplicated women.

None of those women are my coworkers. None of those women are Marlow.

She sighs. “But it will be. I’m a relationship girl.

I get attached. If you and I do this, I’ll get attached.

I know that makes me sound a little crazy, or like I’m not a modern, empowered woman, but it’s just the way I am when it comes to sex.

I don’t know how to do casual, and I don’t want to risk making a mess of things with you, especially since we work together. ”

She’s right, of course.

Why does Marlow always have to be so right about things?

I admire the fact that she refuses to pretend to be something she isn’t. But it also doesn’t change the way I am. And it doesn’t change the way this would end.

“I’m sorry, I just want to be honest with you,” she says.

I see the uncertainty in her eyes. She’s wringing her hands nervously in front of her. She needs to hear me say it, too.

“You’re right,” I say, “and I appreciate your honesty. But can I ask you something?”

She nods slowly.

“Do you think we could try being friends at least? Being your mortal enemy is wearing me out.”

“I think we can manage that,” Marlow smiles half-heartedly.

I take a couple steps forward and press a kiss to her cheek before turning to leave her apartment.