The familiar, powerful winds lifted my summer skirt right up as I stepped out of the O'Hare airport in Chicago. I fixed my skirt using both my arms, flustered but enjoying the cool wind touching my skin, a welcome change compared to the Texas heat. The windy city was playfully welcoming me back.

A year ago, I was fighting back tears and boarding a flight to Austin, having ended my six-year-long relationship with Jim. Deep down, we knew it would eventually come to this. We wanted different things from life and were just delaying the impending by latching on. I wanted a marriage, a family, and a white picket fence, whereas Jim didn't believe in marriages, having seen his parents separate at a young age.

Inevitably, fighting began, quickly increasing in frequency and intensity. I secretly hoped that he would one day change his mind, but, no matter how long I waited, that day never came. Growing tired of the constant bickering, we mutually decided to end things. It broke my heart, and it was extremely hard to live in this city after that. Everywhere I went brought a crashing realization of how much I missed him. Soon after, I took a job in Austin and moved out of Chicago with a broken, heavy heart.

Today, one year after that life-altering incident, both of us have moved on; at least we pretend that we have. A couple of months back, a common friend hesitantly mentioned that Jim is dating a woman from work and things had started getting serious between them. Nodding casually, I pretended to be as disinterested as I could, but deep down it felt like my heart was broken all over again, and shards of glasses ripped my insides for the millionth time. It's ridiculous to have felt this way; I should be happy for him. Isn't that what we wanted for each other? More importantly, I was with this wonderful guy, who was more than willing to give me everything that Jim didn't. I should be happy, but I still find myself crying at night thinking of what Jim and I could have been, only to wake up and don a brave face for the world.

As I walk back into this city, the city that we once called home together, my bravado starts slipping again, flooding my insides with wretched longing, making my stomach twist, pushing a sharp pain into my chest. When Jim asked me for dinner over the phone, I thought catching up as old friends wouldn't hurt. However, as I am getting dressed for dinner, I feel like I'm walking into something I'm not ready to handle. I look at myself in the mirror, blue jeans hugging my long slender legs and a yellow crop top, showing my tempting navel and slim, twenty-eight-inch waist. I wonder why am I dressed up like that, as memories of all the times Jim mercilessly tickled me, chasing me around the apartment, flood my vision, secretly hoping the outfit will make him think of the same.

We picked a restaurant that was within walking distance from our apartment. Damn! No, It's just Jim's apartment, now. It's agonizing, as I mentally correct myself. I watch him walk towards our dinner table, looking as handsome as ever.

Dressed in a casual white t-shirt, dark leather jacket, and black jeans, he flashes his million-dollar smile and pulls me to him in a warm hug. I completely lose myself in the familiarity of his fragrance. His arms naturally fall on my waist as his fingers graze my bare skin, bringing a ripple to my insides. We take a heavy breath as we let each other go and take our seats.

"It's so good to see you, Annie," Jim says, flashing that smile again.

I just smile weakly in response, unable to form a sentence as another wave of sentiments takes over me.

"Are you okay?" He asks in a sincere tone as he squeezes my hand gently.

I nod convincingly, as I plaster a fake smile on my face, hoping he will buy into my facade. He hesitates, knowing there is something wrong but carries on with the dinner.

Except for this little episode, we have a surprisingly great dinner. Conversation flows effortlessly with no awkwardness, whatsoever. We forget about the earth-shattering breakup, the people we are dating, and the commitments we made to them. I feel complete again, the aching in my heart is gone, replaced by a contentment that I've been longing for since I left Chicago.

Out of habit, we exit the restaurant and start walking down the tiny, city street towards Jim's apartment, hand in hand, enjoying the summer winds. We cross that ice-cream shop that we used to love, Kurimu.

"Ice cream?" we both ask at the same time, laughing at how well we still know each other.

Jim always used to tease me about my bizarre taste in ice cream flavors; I order the "purple yam," making it too easy for him to pull my leg like old times. Silly giggles and comfort that only we can give each other make the evening so enjoyable. We exit the shop and continue to walk down the street.

Reality hits hard, and we suddenly stop in front of the apartment gate. The dam keeping my emotions in check cracks open, almost knocking me over with a huge tide of agony. I put my face into my hands and burst into uncontrollable tears, balling in the middle of the street. Jim rushes to my side, holding me tightly, letting me cry a little in his arms. My face is buried in his chest, staining his white t-shirt with the mascara running down my face.

"I am so sorry I am ruining your white t-shirt," I murmur as I come out of the embrace.

He lifts my chin softly, making me look into his dreamy, deep blue eyes as he cautiously moves closer. I remember the first time he kissed me, how his lips softly brushed mine, teasing my lips with soft pecks until I was begging for him to give me his all.

We struggle with good sense as our emotions magnetically pull us closer until our lips meet in a long kiss fused with everything that we were holding back. Breathless, not giving a fuck about the surroundings or the fact that we were cheating on our partners, we explore each other's lips anew, the same lips that we once kissed every day.

We pull apart with great struggle as we sit there hyperventilating, our heads touching lightly as more tears keep flowing. He grabs my hands and pulls me into the elevator. The emotional and sexual tension is palpable and drives us wild with desire. He stops right outside his apartment door and stands tall in front of me with my back to the door. A calming sense envelopes my mind as I feel a wall of protection around myself, a sense of security that Jim used to be in my life until I was thrown out in the woods, alone.

Slowly, the tears are replaced with an animalistic attraction that doesn't abate. Months of separation, dating several desirable people, and here we are - back where we started. My chest heaves with every breath as I stare into his steely blue eyes, looking for answers that still keep me up at night. Do you still want me?

After what seems like an eternity, he cups my face with both his hands and asks in a voice thick with desire, "Tell me what you want". Is he also struggling with the same questions?

I just gasp loudly unable to form a response.

"I won't move until I hear you say it," he asserts in a deep, throaty voice.

"For one night, I want to forget the world and be yours. Fuck me, please." I beg.

He urgently grabs my waist, pushing me against the door and opening it with a loud bam. He slams my body on the wall behind us, moving both my hands above my head, taking a step back, and admiring the view. My long black hair is scattered on the wall, my tits hard and showing through the crop top, my eyes begging him to take me, make me his own again. He always enjoyed this view and took an extra minute then, a look of desire and disbelief in his eyes.

"Is it even possible that you have gotten more desirable since the last time I pinned you down this way?"

I smile slightly, not leaving his beautiful eyes, biting my lips, knowing how that used to drive him crazy.

He curses inaudibly under his breath, and lifts me. My thighs wrap around his torso as we kiss urgently, moaning into each other, my hand tugging at his curly, dark hair, pulling him closer. His hands wander under my top as he finds and unclasps my bra, taking it off swiftly. His touch, so familiar, burns my body with a newfound rush. I pull my crop top off as he takes my pert, 34C tits in his mouth, flicking them with his tongue, driving me crazy. My fingernails dig into his back, as I whimper with every flick.

He plants tiny kisses across my neck, moving to my right earlobe and nibbling it gently, knowing very well that arouses me incredibly. He licks the back of my ear, blowing into it right after sending shivers down my spine. He continues kissing and sucking my neck until I am begging him to give me more.

We crash on the couch, too worked up to move to the bedroom at this point. He pulls my jeans off while my hands yank his t-shirt off. I unbutton his jeans quickly, running my fingers on his hard dick through his Calvin Klein jeans. He drops his jeans and bends over to lick my pussy over my panties as I let out a loud moan, practically putty in his hands. His tongue works wonders, licking relentlessly, making me squirm with pleasure, my hands pushing his head further. I feel a warm electricity rush through my skin as I get close, very close, to cumming.

He stops suddenly and pulls out his dick. "I need to feel you coming on my dick, sweetheart," he says slamming his hardness inside me as I scream with pleasure.

My hands meet at the top of my head, pulling my hair as I become lost in the sensation of every thrust of his hard cock inside me. I feel whole again, like the missing piece of the puzzle that I have been looking for is back inside me. My eyes savor every part of his body, his expressions, his grunts as he fucks me as if I belong to him.

Our eyes meet and our lips smash together in a kiss so intense it's like it's the end of the world. Our tongues explore each other anew with a strange urgency.

"I'm close," I whisper, pulling his face closer as I moan and scream into his mouth, heat rushing to my pussy, as it clenches his dick tightly.

That drives him over the edge, and I feel spurts of cum shooting inside me. I hold him tightly, never wanting the feeling, the embrace to end, as he rides his orgasm with me.

Panting and completely spent, he cups my face and we kiss deeply, lovingly, making silent promises we know we cannot keep. Like John Mayer says, "we are slow dancing in a burning room, waiting for the flames to destroy us completely." Closing my eyes, feeling his soft lips on mine, I know that, for him, I'll keep burning until my whole world is charred and we have only ashes to show for our lives.