A few minutes later, I'm out of the shower. I've used his comb on the sink to brush through my wet hair. I've even used his deodorant and dabbed a little bit of his cologne on my wrists, just wanting to smell like him. Have him touching me in any way possible. I open the door partway and retrieve a black T-shirt, pulling it on over my head, the hem falling well below my knees, the neckline drooping off one shoulder.
I'm starved for the sight of Daniel by now.
My fingers are curled into my palms and every inch of me is sensitized. The heat from the shower did nothing to calm the ache he has created. A throb that has his name on it. I stop in my bedroom to leave my dirty clothes on the bed, then I move on jelly legs to the front of the apartment where I find Daniel heating soup on the stov
