I almost don’t believe it.

I wouldn’t believe it, in fact, except that I feel him. And I know he’s feeling me. He looked right in and there was nothing I could do to stop him. And I do want him to stop.

I want him . . . to . . .

“Stop.” The word comes out in a choked whisper and it’s lost between our tongues. I can’t stop myself, and I don’t want to think about why he’s doing this anymore. My mind walks out on me and his kiss, his hands, his heat – they take over.

I’m rock hard and there’s no way to hide it and I don’t even care. I’ve never kept anything else from him. If I tried, he’d just take it anyway.

God, it feels so beautiful and I want to laugh or cry or just do something to relieve the incredible pressure of the emotion that’s nearly knocking me off my feet. He knows it, and he grins into his kiss because he’s got me and he always has.

And before I realize what’s happened, I’ve thrown him out. I can’t even breathe for the shock and he’s giving me that cocky fucking look of his.

Now I’m alone in here and it’s so quiet that I want to scream. I can’t even think of stopping the tears. Why do I let him do this to me? (I say this as if there’s a choice involved.)

I pull myself together and tell myself I did the right thing. At least I was true to Ben. I sure as hell wasn’t to myself. Or to Brian.

I flip off the lights and lock the door and walk out as if my whole world hasn’t just fallen from the sky.