“Oh, I get it loud and clear. And just what exactly will you be doing while I’m not dating? Fucking your way through every woman in Manhattan who doesn’t work for you?” He was back in my space again, and I could feel the pulse of his anger. It matched my own. “I’ll be doing what I’ve been doing since I met you,” he rasped. “What’s that?” “Fucking my goddamn hand and wishing it was you.” And there went my knees, buckling under me.
