HAILEY’S POV
Five years.
Five years, three therapists, and one very expensive, very underwhelming vibrator, and not a single other man has made me come.
Let that sink in. It’s a special kind of hell, knowing the only person who can unlock your body is the same asshole who systematically torched your self-esteem.
So when my phone lit up with a text from an unknown number that just read, "I'm in town. The usual spot.", I didn't even hesitate.
I didn't want to see him. My body, however, was staging a full-scale mutiny.
The "usual spot" was a grimy alley behind a dive bar. Classy.
I pulled up next to his obnoxiously sleek car and got in. The cologne, the same one he always wore, filled the space.
"Hailey." His voice was a low gravel roll that went straight to my c**t. Traitorous b***h.
