“He stops kissing, but his lips stay touching mine, lightly, like a feather would. "I'm bad for you, Sarah. I won't ever be the gentleman you need.""Maybe I don’t want gentle."He pulls something from his dress pants and presses it into my hand. "And that is my fault.”

“He grabs my hands and lifts them up in the air. I grip the railing on the top of the bed."Don’t move those hands," he whispers into my nape. I nod and lick my lips. I'm on my tiptoes. My breath is catching and coming out spurts of rough air. His hands run down my arms. I shiver and pant. His lips brush the back of my neck. He sweeps my hair to one side, kissing down my shoulder blade. Heat and nerves battle low in my belly as his hands grip my hips, pulling me back to him."Don't let go of that railing, Sarah." His words are growled between kisses and licks. I hear the menacing threat in them.”

“I laugh nervously and jerk my hand free, "I want the you that tilts his head back and eats the snow. I want the you that holds me and snuggles into me. I want him, but you hardly ever show him to me. I see a glimpse of him and then it's you that’s back." I point disappointedly. "I want the sweet guy who puts his hand out for me."His eyes fight something. His lips tighten, "He's in here too. I think there are a few of us.”

“He clears his throat, "Have you considered he sees you as a girl at school? Not all girls are whole when you meet them. Sometimes you have to help them get there. Right now, you are a broken girl. That doesn’t mean that you'll always be broken. That doesn’t make you less of a girl." He clears his throat again, "I'll call the doc. She'll want to talk to you."The tears in my eyes don’t come out. They stay in there like tiny kaleidoscopes, trying to make the world the way I need it to be. My words don’t come right away either. I don’t hear the click on his end when I whisper, "I'm not broken." But he isn’t there. He never really is. He is the master of not being there.”

“He grabs my arm and pulls me into his embrace. I close my eyes and it's perfection. The kiss is needy and desperate even if it's closed mouth. It's the things we don't say. Words like, I needed you more than anything in the entire world and here you are. It's the sentences neither of us can say. Because neither of us likes grand gestures or big words. But the kiss says it all, the desperate tremble of his fearful lips against mine, speak volumes compared to the words we may or may not be able to say.”

“I grip him. "Don’t leave me."He kisses my lips, "Never again. This isn’t me leaving you. This is me choosing you." He throws my words back at me.He kisses me once more and then pushes off. He leaves and doesn’t look back. I fight the urge to run after him.”

“The image of him standing in the elevator doors, in his silver dress shirt and dark-grey dress pants wiping me off his lips, is the sexiest and most devastating thing I've ever seen.”