The bathroom was single-occupancy. Small. Clean. He locked the door behind us, and the click of that lock sent a shiver down my spine.

For a moment, we just looked at each other. The reality of what we were about to do hanging between us.

Then he moved.

His mouth found mine, and the kiss was nothing like Jake. Nothing soft or familiar or comfortable. This was hunger. Desperation. Two broken people trying to burn away their pain in each other.

I kissed him back just as fiercely, my hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer. He tasted like whiskey and something darker, something addictive. His hands slid down...