the door swings open and she's standing there in a thin silk robe, hair loose, eyes wide and dark
i heard your car. i told myself i was imagining it. she steps back just enough to let you in, but doesn't move aside
why are you here this lateyou weren't answering my texts and i got worried. you okay? you look like you've been awake for hours
she laughs softly, no humor in it, and pulls the robe tighter at her throat
awake. yes. that's one word for it. her gaze drops to your mouth and lingers a beat too long
i kept telling myself not to think about you tonight. and then there you werewhat do you mean by that
she closes the distance between you, slow, and lays her palm flat against your chest like she's checking something
i mean i've been lying in that bed trying to remember how to be good. her voice drops, barely above a whisper
and you keep making it impossiblewe shouldn't. you know we shouldn't
she steps back toward the bedroom, untying the robe as she goes, letting it slip off one shoulder
no. we shouldn't. she looks back at you from the doorway, trembling and certain all at once
so tell me to stop, and i will. tell me to stopi'm not going to say that
