4

I couldn’t get his hands out of my head.

Not just how they moved—though God help me, the man had the kind of precision that could make a surgeon blush. It was how he touched me. Like he knew me. Like I was something he’d studied, mastered, and owned.

It had been a full day, but I could still feel the ghost of his grip on my throat, the echo of his fingers inside me, the raw ache of wanting more. My body hadn’t stopped buzzing. I’d tried my vibrator twice. Useless. Like trying to scratch an itch with mittens on—wrong pressure, wrong rhythm, wrong person.

“Selena.” Claudine’s voice sliced through my fog. “Hello? Did you die standing up?”

I blinked and realized I’d been frozen in our kitchen, coffee mug halfway to my mouth, zoning out like someone unplugged my brain.

“Sorry,” I said, sipping lukewarm brew. “Got distracted.”

Claudine perched on the counter, her bare legs swinging. “Girl, that was not ‘distracted.’ That was erotic paralysis. You had your ‘construction worker TikTok’ face on.”

My cheeks flushed. “No idea what you mean.”

“Sure. And I don’t listen to raunchy ASMR before bed,” she deadpanned. “Scale of one to ten—how aggressively did Mr. Mystery redecorate your insides?”

I choked. “Jesus, Claudine.”

“What?” she shrugged. “You vanished for twenty minutes and reappeared looking like someone had dragged you out of a very sexy tornado. Plus”—her eyes narrowed—“you came back commando.”

My stomach dropped. “How would you even know that?”

She crossed her arms. “You’re the queen of coordinated underwear. You’d wear lace to a dental cleaning. You don’t lose panties. Not unless someone removed them with purpose.”

I groaned and buried my face in my hands. “Please stop talking.”

“Oh, hell no,” she grinned. “I’ve waited a full twenty-four hours for tea. Spill it. Was he huge? Did he make you finish? Did you do that squeaky little moan you pretend doesn’t exist?”

I bolted for the door. “I’m going to my dad’s.”

“Running won’t cure the sexual tension,” she called after me. “But maybe a family meltdown will distract you from the fact that you finally had an orgasm that counted!”

I flipped her off on my way out. She wasn’t wrong.

My family was pure, unfiltered chaos. And honestly? Chaos sounded like a nice break from replaying mystery man’s fingers on repeat.

The train ride should’ve been relaxing. Should’ve been a moment to breathe, scroll, maybe nap.

Instead, I spent every second staring out the window, replaying that night in graphic detail. His mouth, his voice, the way he made me forget who I was and beg for more. By the time we pulled into my stop, I was ready to climb the walls.

My father met me at the front door looking like he’d aged ten years in two days. “Thank God you’re here,” he exhaled, dragging me into a bear hug. “I think I’m losing my mind.”

From inside the house came the high-pitched wail of Abby, my youngest sister, followed by the unmistakable sound of something shattering. No sign of Madilyn, which meant she was either hiding, plotting, or already arrested.

“What now?” I asked, already bracing myself.

“Madilyn chopped some girl’s ponytail off with safety scissors. Got suspended,” he muttered, raking his hands through his thinning hair. “Abby’s been inconsolable for hours because her Barbie lost its head—don’t ask—and I burned dinner while trying to untangle Christmas lights. In July.”

I stared. “Christmas lights?”

“She said they were ‘aesthetic fairy lights.’ They’re currently knotted around the ceiling fan. I may have created an electrical hazard.”

This was my life. Always had been.

Mom left when I was thirteen, and I’d been acting like the third parent ever since. Grocery runs. Bedtime negotiations. Emotional triage. I was twenty-two and felt forty.

“Go sit down,” I sighed, dropping my bag. “Pour something alcoholic. I’ve got this.”

Three hours later, Barbie had a replacement head, Madilyn swore off public haircuts (for now), no one died from fire or electrocution, and dinner had been salvaged into something edible.

Madilyn curled up beside me on the couch, quieter than usual. “I slashed Tyler’s tires,” she admitted into my shoulder. “Everyone saw him with Debby, and I just… snapped.”

“Heartbreak makes us do crazy shit,” I said, brushing her hair out of her face.

“Have you ever lost it over a guy?”

I thought of that night. That stranger’s mouth. The way his fingers undid me faster than any emotion ever had.

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I have.”

Later that night, after Dad passed out on the recliner and both girls were finally asleep, I slipped outside with a bottle of wine. Not a glass. The bottle.

The porch swing creaked beneath me as I pulled my knees up and exhaled. Finally—silence. No fires. No tears. No demands.

Just me.

And the phantom memory of his hands. The deep pull of wanting. The ache that hummed under my skin like electricity waiting to detonate.

My phone buzzed.

Unknown Number.

I opened the message.

It was a picture.

My panties. Black lace. Held in a large, unmistakably masculine hand.

I nearly dropped the wine. A second message followed:

Unknown: Left these behind, didn’t you?

My heart slammed.

Me: Who is this?

His reply came within seconds:

Unknown: Wow. You already forgot our little rendezvous in the private room?

A rush of heat slid down my spine.

Unknown: You ran off before I could return them. Among other things I intended to give you.

I swallowed hard and set the bottle down.

Me: You never told me your name.

Unknown: You never asked.

Me: You act like I owe you something.

Unknown: You act like you didn’t want more.

My thighs clenched instinctively.

Me: Maybe I was just giving you a challenge.

Unknown: Maybe I like challenges.

Long pause. Then—

Unknown: You and I have unfinished business.

Every nerve ending in my body lit up.

Me: And what exactly are you planning to do about that?

Unknown: Depends. Are you done running?

My breath caught.

For the first time, I wasn’t being needed. I wasn’t being depended on. I wasn’t anyone’s therapist, babysitter, or cook.

I was just a woman.

With an ache that hadn’t left in twenty-four hours.

Me: Try me.