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Four. It’s like watching the world end and begin anew.

Three. I lick my lips.

Two. He looks.

O—

‘Damnit.’ I barely hear him.

‘Ha! I wi⁠—’

His lips crash into mine the same moment my arse lands on the piano keys with jarring discord. There’s nothing soft about him. Nothing soft about the way he grips my arms hard enough to bruise, keeping my body a respectable distance while he defiles my mouth. It takes a second for me to catch up. But when I get there…This distance just won’t do.

I shrug out of his hold and meet him with enough force to equal his. Our teeth clack and our hands claw at each other’s clothing. I can’t get a breath in. I don’t need to. I don’t need anything for the rest of my life but this right here. Hands move to the backs of my thighs and tap once. A wordless command. I don’t need to be told. I climb his body like a ladder; Walker holds me just as steady. The hard planes of his body do not match the softness of mine, but they make for exquisite contrast and delicious friction. He pulls me harder against him. I hook my arm around his neck and leverage the hold to grind against him. We both break apart in ragged moans. Green meets blue. When is it enough?

Walker has no answers. He looks for clues against my skin. His lips blazing trails and charting country wherever he can reach. My cheek, my ear, neck, collarbone, shoulder. When there’s no territory left uncovered, he says, ‘Can I have more?’

I nod. ‘Yes.’ I nod again.

Words seem to break the urgency. Walker’s eyes are on mine when he dusts the straps of my pyjamas off my shoulders, and I shrug to let the rest of the material drop. He’s waiting. I nod. His eyes drag slowly over me. I don’t think anyone has ever looked at me the way he does. He looks at me like I’m a gift. Something precious.

He regains the space he’d taken to look at me. His kiss against my lips is soft and quick. The kind married couples give on their way out the door. Walker has started a new expedition, and his attention to detail is meticulous. His hands are hard and warm against the underside of my breasts. He leaves wet-mouthed kisses on my chest, his breath a cool flush that makes my skin dimple and my nipples peak. From the direction of his eyes, I can tell where he’s headed next. He pulls one taut nipple into his hot mouth, circling it with his clever tongue while he kneads the other. I can feel everything. I can feel it more than I’ve ever felt anything in my life. How can this not be real? I can feel his breath skating over my skin as he abandons my breasts.

He watches me; there’s a glint in his eye. Not a reflection. When he gets to his knees⁠—

I gasp for air and sit up in bed. Tremors shake the house. Flustered and sweating, my pyjamas stick to me. I press a hand to my chest to steady my racing heart. I look up at the ceiling, expecting to see… well, anything other than the monstrous artwork on the ceiling. But no. No shadows. No mist. The music has stopped. Or maybe it never started. Maybe it really was just a dream. I collapse back into bed and curl into my side.

Perhaps he was never there.

Perhaps. But what a dream it was. I touch my fingertips to my lips.

Looks like the nevers weren’t un-nevered after⁠—

A tug on my hair. ‘I’m not done with you yet.’

I could feel him there too, but not like before. There was only cool pressure where he aligned his body against mine. One hand held my waist and the other tightened its hold in my hair. ‘Show me how you touch yourself,’ he whispered in my⁠—

‘Hello! Come in, Miller!’

Lavender is waving a branch in front of my face. I jump.

‘What?’ My voice cracks. I clear my throat. ‘What?’ Yes, that what sounded much less like someone reliving a sexual encounter with the ghost that haunts her house.

‘Oh, girl.’ Lavender sighs. ‘You got it bad.’

‘I don’t have anything.’

‘You sure about that? Ghosts can still transfer STDs. Spectrally-transmitted disease. Look it up.’

‘Really?!’ My eyes bug out of my head.

She cracks after a second. A devious smile, spreading slowly like an illness. I bump her trunk and roll my eyes.

‘How did you know?’ I ask, toeing the dirt. I sip my coffee in increments, trying to make it last.

When I woke there was no trace of him. No shirt to shrug on and walk through the house scantily clad in. No glasses of wine for two. No one to hide my morning breath from. Fine. It’s fine, I said. It wasn’t. But it would be. I could be. I dressed, stomped down the stairs and dragged my feet to the kitchen. And⁠—

‘You’re awake.’ He was standing at the window. The first rays of morning sunlight speared through him.