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 ...