Opening the envelope, I pulled out the small white index card and read the handwritten note:

You’re welcome.

—Jake.

I rolled my eyes and pushed my cart out into the lobby. I waved to the staff at the front desk as I passed by and headed toward the mail room.

Even though I was somewhat sad about leaving this job, I was ecstatic to finally have a job that could offer me a full forty hours a week. Even more ecstatic that I would finally get a chance to work flights that were more than an hour or two and stay at much nicer hotels.

I pressed the “up” button on the elevator and leaned against my cart as the numbers on the overhead lit up on the way down.

Is it stopping on every floor?

Groaning, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and noticed there was a new notification. A new comment on the blog I hadn’t written on in years. I opened it and saw it was the same asshole who always commented, KayTROLL.

KayTROLL: No more blogs? No more interesting tid-bits from your woe-is-me life? I was hoping to hear a “I’ve finally grown up years later” post...That or a grand apology. Unless you’ve died...Have you died?

Ugh...

I put my phone away, not wanting to engage in that part of my old life. Even though I’d never received a single positive comment from whoever that person was, I regarded him as a distant friend. A distant friend who took pleasure in treating me like shit, but at least he read everything I once wrote.

The elevator doors ahead suddenly opened and a group of residents walked off all at once. I waited for the last person to step off, until I realized he wasn’t getting off at all.

He was staring at me, looking at me exactly how he’d looked at me that night, beckoning me with his gaze.

I felt every nerve in my body instantly come to life, but I didn’t let it show.

“Are you getting on?” Jake asked, his voice low.

“After you get off, yes.”

“I’m not getting off.” He held the doors open, waiting for him to join him, but I didn’t.

“No, thank you,” I said. “Wrong elevator bank.” I quickly turned away and pushed my cart toward the western elevator bank. I felt him following me, but I didn’t look back.

I hit the up button and kept my gaze forward. When the elevator doors opened, I pulled my cart inside and he stepped right next to me. I pretended to glance at my clipboard and hit five, the floor for the mailroom.

Jake didn’t hit eighty, and the doors closed.

It took everything in me not to look toward him, to keep my face forward the entire ride up, especially since I could feel him staring at me. Especially since I could feel that undeniable, palpable energy between us.

The doors glided open on five and I got off with my cart, telling him, “Have a good day,” but he didn’t stay. He stepped off and followed me down the hallway and into the mailroom.

I picked up a stack of magazines, tossing them into their appropriate bins—feeling Jake on my heels.

“What are you doing?” I finally turned around to face him. “Do I know you?”

His smirk slid into a full blown smile. “Yes, I believe we’ve met pretty recently.”

“I’m not sure sure about that.” I stuttered. “If we did, it must not have been a memorable encounter because I can’t seem to recall it.”

“Would you like a reminder?” He lowered his voice and his gaze veered to my lips. “I’m in a particularly giving mood today.”

“No,” I said, inhaling the scent of his cologne as he stepped closer. “There’ll be no need for a reminder.”

“What about the need for a repeat?” He closed the gap between us. “Surely that answer would be different.”

“Actually, it wouldn’t be...”

“And why is that?”

“It just wouldn’t be.” I immediately walked away from him, to the side of the room that held the individual mailboxes. I started checking off the boxes that had “package arrived” stickers and I felt him step behind me, felt him gently tugging my hair and mimicking the rough rhythm of when he’d tugged it that night.

“Turn around,” he whispered, and I spun around without any hesitation.

He stared at me with those smoldering blue eyes and pressed a hand against my cheek. “Did you get my present?”

“That wasn’t a present.”

“Me not pressing charges was the present. The box was a reminder of how generous I’m being about not reporting you.”

“Well, thank you for returning all of the things that originally belonged to me...Although, now that I think about it, you didn’t return my panties.”

“I’m keeping those.”

“As a souvenir?”

“As a reward. What time do you get off today?”

“I’m sorry, sir.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “I’m not allowed to give out my employee information, and since I get paid by the hour, I really need to get to work.”

“Then whose room are you stealing today?”

“No one’s. I’m a changed employee.”

“I highly doubt that.” He smiled, ignoring my poor attempt to blow him off. His lips brushed against mine and slowly leaned forward, using his hips to pin me against the mailboxes.

He trailed his finger against my lips. “You haven’t thought about me fucking you?”

“No.”

He stared right into my eyes. “Tell me you haven’t gone to sleep dreaming of me filling your pussy with my cock for hours and I’ll leave you alone right now.”