I jump when Emma walks back into the room and quickly put my phone away.

I know that she doesn't feel like she quite belongs.

I want her here, but today is just a bad day for me. I thought I could handle it.

I thought that I would be okay with having access to that part of my life, but now I know that it would’ve been better for my mental health if I had never even looked her up in the first place.

When I started this new life, I was supposed to start with a clean slate. No one was supposed to know who I was or anything about my past. That's why I have a new name now and that's why I write under a pseudonym.

A month ago, I happened to run into Alex in Beverly Hills and he recognized me immediately. We haven't been in touch in years, but he’s someone from my past who knew me as Liam.

What he doesn't know is that it's not the name I use now. That's not the name that appears in any of my official documents and that's not the name that I use to write.

I keep pushing myself to make things work with Emma, but I’m not sure what that means exactly. Then she has a panic attack.

When I bring her tea, I rub her back and I kiss her.

Suddenly everything changes. It's almost as if we don't need to talk about what is going on between us but instead just let ourselves exist in this moment.

When our lips touch, the world starts to make sense again.

She may not know who I am and she may not know what I have done, but our bodies make sense together and that's enough for now.

She touches me gently, but I'm not in the mood to be gentle.

When I push her against the wall, she smiles at me and kisses me harder. I want her and I don't want to take my time.

She may not know who I really am or anything about my past, but she has to know that I am a true person right now.

I kiss her harder on the lips, until my mouth almost hurts.

It's a good kind of hurt, the one that you think about long after.

Her kisses get sloppy and out-of-control just like her hands. One moment she buries them in my hair and the next she runs her fingers up and down my back.

I pull off her shirt and she pulls off mine.

I unclasp her bra and press my body against hers.

It hasn’t been long since we touched, but it feels like it has been years. I have missed this more than I can say.

I need to be inside of her. A part of me wants to take my time, but I can't bring myself to do it.

My hands are frantic.

They pull off her pants and hers unbuckle my belt. She jumps up and wraps her legs firmly around my hips, pulling me close to her.

I'm not inside her yet.

She's teasing me. I like it.

I grab her right underneath her butt and carry her to the bed. I throw her down and get on top.

She smiles at me and reaches up to kiss me again. This time however, I don't let her. I flip her over on her stomach. I press her hard into the bed and I run my fingers up and down her spine until she moves into the pillow.

I split her legs open and run my fingers down her inner thigh. I can feel the wetness and I feel her wanting me, but I don't press inside yet.

“You’re teasing me,” she mumbles.

“Of course.”

I want this moment to last as long as possible and yet I want to be inside of her as quickly as possible.

I take a deep breath and calm my breathing.

I stare at the roundness of her butt and how it sticks up in the air.

“Put it a little bit higher,” I say.

She does, getting on her knees. With her head still in the pillow, I run my fingers down the slope of her back. Then I follow the curve of her body.

I bend down and kiss her between her legs. This surprises her as she jumps a little bit further up. I lick her and kiss her over and over again.

“Getting close,” she whispers, grabbing the bedspread with her hands.

“Not yet,” I whisper and pull away slightly to take a little look.

The inside of her is red and plump, infused with blood, throbbing for me.

I thrust my fingers inside of her, making sure to stimulate her clit.

She points her toes and then relaxes them with each thrust. I watch the way that her body moves and she watches mine.

When I can't stand it anymore, I slip on a condom and push myself inside. I open her up wide and she moans my name into the pillow.

I grab onto her hips to move in and out of her. Her body moves with mine as if we are listening and dancing to the same song.

Then something starts to course through her body, almost as if it were a wave.

She starts to moan louder and louder, muffling herself with a pillow, her body thrusting harder and harder against me.

At the same time, an explosion goes off within me. I have held it back enough, now I let myself go.

“Emma,” I whisper and collapse on top of her.

18

Emma

The following morning, I wake up around seven and run my fingers over the empty spot next to me on the bed.

Liam is not here.

I rub my eyes and rise slowly, keenly aware of how tense my muscles feel from the exercise I got last night.

I stretch my arms high overhead, then slip on my leggings and a T-shirt, making my way into the main room. Skylar greets me with excited jumps and I pet her head and give her a little kiss on the nose.

I look for Liam in the room on the other side of the kitchen, but he's not there.

I look out of the enormous bay window onto the sun-drenched hills of the desert outside. There's a little lizard doing push-ups on a flat boulder and a few crickets hopping around nearby. My stomach growls and I realize that I need food.

On the desk next to a half-drunk cup of coffee is Liam's laptop. It's closed and plugged into the charging cable.

I look around and given the open floor plan of the house, I know that if he's here, he's probably somewhere in the bathroom.

I'm tempted to open the laptop and see what he is working on.

I run my fingers over the top, wondering if I should. Of course not, but I'm still tempted.

No, this is his workspace and he's entitled to his privacy. I will not snoop around in search of something that he's not willing to share with me.

Eventually, I decide against it.

When I walk back into the main room, I look out of the glass door and see Liam far in the distance. His body is moving swiftly, but he's out of breath.

When he gets onto the porch, he doubles over, drenched in sweat, and looks at the time on his watch.

“How was your run?” I ask, opening the door.

“Good, really good,” he says, trying to catch his breath.

“How long did you go for?”

“Five miles,” he says with a huff.

We are out on the back porch. It's wooden, resembling the kind of porches popular in saloons and westerns.

It wraps almost all the way around and has a deep brown railing, also made out of wood, which can double as a hitching post.

Liam lifts one foot up onto the railing to stretch out his hamstring and I see muscles protruding on his tan legs.

When he switches sides, he pulls off his sweat-drenched shirt, exposing a tight, neatly arranged six pack.

I can't help but lick my lips.

“Do you run every morning?” I ask.

“I'm trying to get back into it. I haven't for a while and my depression got the best of me.”