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his Henley collar in back. A small iron medallion hung from a cord at his neck, and a mix of leather bands encircled one wrist. But this was no dirty hipster. His jaw was clean-shaven, square and sharp. His gentle, brown eyes glowed, unobstructed by unnecessary designer glasses. And his lips were full, yet masculine, the smile different from my Jacob’s, but still just as genuine and easy-going.
    Blinking away the tears, I took a tentative step closer and raised a finger to the young man’s well-sculpted cheek, sliding it to the crisp line of his jaw, until it came to rest at his slightly dimpled chin.
    He didn’t say another word. Confident and unassuming, he just stared me in the eye in a way that quieted the turmoil and bitterness. If I believed in ghosts, I would have sworn Jacob had swooped down from the heavens and stolen into this young man’s body, had possessed his soul, even for the briefest of moments.
    My fingers moved to his lips of their own accord as I stared at the soft, dusky flesh, so tempting, as if beckoning me across time. I felt his hands drop to his sides. They never reached up to touch me, but rather waited for me to do what I wanted so badly to do.
    I moved in closer, until my body felt captured by his heat, his breath warm and gentle against my cheek. My gaze drifted over every inch of his beautiful, young face. Then, like gravity, I was drawn to him, my lips brushing his from side to side before pressing ever so lightly.
    I closed my eyes as he opened his mouth a hair’s breadth, just enough for the tip of his tongue to peek out and make an introduction. Mine joined his, and we danced about each other for a few seconds, testing the waters. We both opened a little wider, each inviting the other in.
    With a deep breath and a slight moan, my hands smoothed over his chest and up along his shoulders, behind his neck and into his soft, lush hair. I felt the warmth of his hands coil around my waist and slide up my back. His body molded into mine as I pressed him harder into the door.
    He let me have full rein, never forcing himself on me, yet never pulling back either. He gave himself to me—to use, to explore, to feed upon. Because that’s what it felt like, as if he were infusing lifeblood into every cell, to my very soul, and I was the starving animal at the very end of my rope.
    It was the single most sexually fulfilling moment I’d felt in nearly twenty years, standing here with this stranger, this man who was hardly more than a boy, really, at least compared to me.
    So young, so tender, so giving.
    And so sexy.
    Just like my Jacob.
    But he wasn’t my Jacob, and I was aware of that every second. I just didn’t want to let the moment go. I needed it like I needed air, like I hadn’t had a decent, full breath in two decades. It filled and energized me, spread through me like wildfire, igniting passions I thought long dead. And it made me realize how I’d become little more than a thin shell of the sensual woman I used to be.
    With a longing sigh, I slowly eased my tongue from his mouth, my lips from his lips, my fingers from his hair, and dropped back down from my tiptoes. His eyes fluttered open and looked down at me with an unfathomable expression, aroused and smugly satisfied, a little amused, I think.
    I couldn’t be angry with him for that. He was entirely too hot and so very young, yet obviously not the least bit inexperienced. Everything about him felt sexual, sensual.
    “What was that for?” he asked, his voice low and his heated eyes glued to mine.
    With an upward squeeze of my shoulders, I said, “Payback,” then flashed him a grin as a whirlwind of desire churned inside me, making my cheeks flame and my fingers tingle with electricity.
    His brow shot up and his smile widened. “Interesting,” he said. “May I ask for what?”
    His casual attitude emboldened me. “My husband,” I answered. “I caught him cheating earlier. With my best friend, no less.”
    His brow knitted