As he continues to stare at me in a way I haven’t seen before, I decide I need my old River back before we can keep talking. I don’t want to let him slip away, but don’t know what to do. Averting his intense stare, my eyes dart to the stillness of the water and I know that is where I can find peace. So I strip off my pants and dive into the pool, wanting to wash my body of the sand and bottled-up emotion. Tranquility shoots through me as my skin meets the coolness of the water. Surfacing, I swim to the side and gesture to him to join me. He sits there, his pants unzipped, and shakes his head no.

Splashing water in his direction, I goad him, “What? Are you too drunk to swim? Because there sure as shit are a lot of empty beer bottles next to you.”

He crosses his arms and smirks at me and I can tell he’s trying not to laugh. A few more seconds pass. When I splash him again his expression changes and this time he smiles. “I could swim laps around you with all these bottles tied around my waist.”

“Prove it. Come on. Don’t be chickenshit. I bet you tomorrow’s coffee run you can’t beat me in your condition. In fact, I’ll even throw in a hold-your-breath contest.” I figure even though he always swims faster and can hold his breath longer, I doubt he can best me at either now. And honestly, I don’t care if I win or lose—I just want him back.

“I’ll take that bet and I’ll have a double espresso, but it doesn’t mean I’m not still mad as hell at you.”

Without another word he stumbles slightly as he removes his jeans and boxers, then dives in. He swims to the opposite end of the pool and grabs the ledge. I stay where I am, giving him his distance.

“So how’s this contest going to go?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Hold your breath first works for me.”

“Okay, why not. Let’s do it. On the count of three. One. Two. Three,” I say and then I plunge underwater.

When I come up, I’m not even sure he went under.

“Guess I win,” I say, gasping a little for air.

He nods but says nothing, his stare more intense with every passing second.

“Okay, what’s next? Laps? First one to the end wins.”

“Sure,” he answers.

And with that, I say go and just take off. I feel him swimming near me as we pass each other somewhere in the middle of the pool.

When I finish my laps, I look for him but he’s not swimming, he’s standing next to me, watching me. He does his best to keep a straight face, but my exhaustion must be apparent. Through the glow of the moonlight I catch his expression.

“Stop smirking. It’s not funny.”

“It kind of is,” he says as he hoists himself up and out of the pool.

I study his perfect naked body and he catches me when he turns to extend his hand. Helping me up, his grip doesn’t falter. I eye him as he watches me steadily, a slight hint of amusement in his face. Once I have both feet back on the ground he takes a step back. He drops his head and I can tell he’s trying to contain his laughter.

Looking up, he grins and with a hint of smugness says, “You look tired.”

I frown. “You cheated.”

“That’s a matter of opinion. I was the first one to your end of the pool. I finished my lap. You didn’t say we had to return.”

“Whatever,” I silently dare him to go on, but he doesn’t.

He just stands there and his closeness makes my pulse race. He’s taking me in and I can tell. I take a step closer to him. I see his chest rising and falling a little more rapidly. I brace my hands on his shoulders.

“What do you want?” he whispers.

“You. I want your lips on mine. I want you to kiss me.”

Maybe it was the touch, maybe it was my answer but whatever the reason he swiftly picks me up. I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him closer to me. I tilt my head back and his lips attach to my neck. They are warm and soft. When they meet my mouth, it falls open to let him in. As water drips from our naked bodies, he carries me toward the stairs heading to our bedroom. With my arms draped around his neck, I rake my fingernails along his shoulder blades and he shivers. He hastily sets me down on one of the steps and hovering over me he asks, “What else do you want?”

Gasping, I manage to answer, “You. Just you.”

He grabs me, yanking me forward, and I know we’re not going to make it up the stairs. He takes my hands, raising them above my head, and locks our fingers together. He traces my mouth with his tongue and tugs on my lower lip. Freeing one hand, he runs it past my stomach down to my slick flesh. His touch sends an instant feeling of exhilaration through my body. My breathing speeds up and I work my tongue up his neck, wanting to taste every inch of him.

He inhales sharply and releases my other hand. Moving his hands to my waist, he then slides his hand to my lower back, forcefully pulling me to him. I am shaking with need as I shift my hands down to grab him. When my fingers stroke his thick shaft and I circle his tip, he groans.

He lifts his head and stares at me. “I need to be inside of you.”

“I’m yours. Take me.”

Forgoing any foreplay, his hands push my legs further apart. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip before crushing his mouth to mine. I close my eyes as fire explodes through my body. Then he grabs both of my hands and raises them back over my head, holding my hands in place with one of his. I watch him as he takes himself in his hand, readying himself for me, and I gasp at the pure eroticism of it all. He plunges into me and I scream out as he takes what’s his. The pace he sets is hard and fast. Watching him and feeling the weight of his body on mine makes me tremble. I can’t touch him and somehow that only makes my need for him more intense. I know what he’s doing—he’s marking me, but I don’t care. He already owns every piece of me. If he needs this to remind him, I’ll give it to him.

When he grinds himself deep inside me, my head falls back and my legs tighten around him without any conscious thought. He urges me to follow his pace as he moves hard and fast and I follow. He seems to get lost in the moment, like he can’t get enough of me. I close my eyes and just absorb every ounce of him.

We touch each other everywhere. Our hands, our lips, our bodies, they never leave each other. Running, pressing, skimming, and gliding over every ounce of flesh, we continue to move at a pace we never have before. I open my eyes in time to see his close. My moans turn into his groans and before I know it I am screaming, “Oh God, yes!” over and over again. Pausing before taking one final thrust, he does the same.

Shuddering, he pulls out of me and lifts my arms over my head again with one hand while the other moves down my body. I’m taken aback as to what he’s doing but when his hot breath hits my neck and his hand cups my sex, I know. I moan. I can’t help it. I’m already so wet from the combination of him and me, that when he inserts two fingers inside me they easily slide in. His thumb presses against me as his fingers move in and out, over and over. I can feel him harden against my thigh and the need to have him inside me is stronger than ever. He moves his mouth to my breast and circles the nipple with his tongue before sucking on it, and, although I just came, I can feel it building again. The warm hardness resting on my thigh, his hand on my sex, his mouth on my nipple—it’s sensory overload and I scream out as pleasure tears through me.

I’m still panting a minute later when, without a word, he picks me up and carries me the rest of the way up the stairs and into the house. After kicking the door shut, he sets me on the bed and lies next to me, urging me to move on top of him. Of course I do. I tuck my arms under his neck and lay my head on his chest. Once my breathing calms, I kiss his neck and then nuzzle into it. He kisses my head and rests his cheek there. We both know we have to talk, but neither of us wants to and that’s okay for now.

After a few minutes, I peek up at him and his eyes are fixed on me. I raise one eyebrow and smirk at him.

He grins back. “What?”

I try to make light of a situation that I know is nothing but heavy. “You skipped all the romance, Loverboy.”

Laughing, he says, “You know it can’t always be rainbows and butterflies.”

I grin at him, remembering the first weekend we spent together and how I asked him if he was dreaming of rainbows and butterflies. Then inching myself up next to him on the pillow so that we are nose to nose, I say, “I think you got the butterflies part down pretty well.”

We lay together for a long while, but neither one of us falls asleep. Leaning over him, I push the hair from his eyes and kiss his nose. “I missed you today.”

“I missed you, too.”

“Don’t ever not call me again.”

“Dahlia, you’re the one who wouldn’t talk to me at Grace’s and then took off. Calling you wouldn’t change what happened, and, honestly, I was pissed at you and didn’t want to talk to you.”

Tears well in my eyes, and he pulls me back down to him. “Besides, how could I call you when you smashed your phone?”

I look at him, dumbfounded. “How do you know that?”

“I called Aerie this morning and she told me she was on her way to see you. Later on she texted me that you got mad and threw your phone. Care to tell me why?”

“I think you already know why, smart-ass.”

“Yeah, but I want to hear you say it.”

I give him a shut-up-now-before-you-get-in-any-more-trouble look and say, “Please promise to always call, no matter how mad we are.”

“First you have to promise you won’t hang up on me.”

“I promise to never hang up.”

Making a crossing motion over his heart he says, “I promise to call.”