I spot a dark alcove surrounded by bougainvillea behind the club. “There.” I drag her into the nook and, without hesitation, pin her against the back wall of the club. I grip her face, my heart racing. “No more ‘thinking about it.’ No more ‘processing.’ You’remine. All week long it’s me and you and no one else and that’s all there is to it. You got that?”
She nods.
“Say it.”
“Me and you.”
“You’re mine.Say it.”
“I’m yours.” She lets out a long exhale. “Oh, God, I want you, Ryan.”
I’m hard as a rock. My heart is pounding. I pull up her dress and pull down her undies and slide my fingers inside her and she groans. “You want me or him?”
“I don’t want him. I’ve never wanted him.”
“Your body’s mine,” I say as I roll a condom onto my dick. “I own it. It’s mine and no one else’s—especially nothis.”
She nods.
I grab her ass and pick her up and she wraps her legs around my waist as I slide myself into her, her back against the flower-covered wall. “Say my name.”
“Ryan.”
“Promise me it’s just me and you.”
“I promise.”
“Say my name again.”
She grips my face and looks into my eyes. “Ryan. It’s just me and you. I’m yours. I promise...” She lets out a sigh of deep arousal. “Ryan.”
Oh my God. I feel like my heart’s exploding and melting, all at once, right along with my body. I kiss her passionately, relieved and thrilled and beyond turned on, my body moving in and out of hers, my palms gripping her ass as I hold her up, my chest on fire.
“Tessa,” I whisper into her ear. “You own me, baby. You’ve owned me since before I laid eyes on you.”
Just when I think I can’t hang on any longer, she comes, hard, throwing her head back and stiffening in my arms—and, seconds later, I let go and come, too.Hard.
When we’re both done growling and quaking with pleasure, we kiss for a very long moment in the moonlight, our chests pressed together, electricity coursing between us. There’s no doubt about it—this thing between us is bigger than sex. And much, much bigger than one week in paradise. I want her and she wants me and that’s all there is to it. Finally—fuckingfinally, we’re both on the same page. From here on out, it’s gonna be just me and her.
Tessa slides down my body, finds her undies in a bush and pulls them on, and then straightens her dress and her hair. “Okay,” she says. “What happens in Maui stays in Maui—just like you said. We’ll have some delicious fun on the down-low this week and, when we get back to Seattle, we’ll both pretend it never happened.” She holds up her palm for a high-five and I leave her hanging, feeling like she just slapped me across the face.
When it’s clear I’m not gonna high-five her, she places her raised palm on my cheek, kisses my lips softly, and swipes the pad of her thumb across my lower lip—a maneuver that makes my heart physically pang for her.
“I’ll go back into the club first,” she whispers. “Wait a few minutes so nobody gets suspicious.” She kisses me again and smiles. “God, this is gonna be fun. I can’t wait.” And with that, she turns and practically sprints into the club, leaving me standing with my mouth hanging open and my heart feeling like it’s bleeding out.
50
Tessa
After the 22 Goats concert ends, Ryan and I sneak back to my room, strip off our clothes, and eagerly begin exploring each other’s bodies, inside and out. How is it every sexual encounter with this man makes me want himmore, rather thanless?
Finally, when our bodies are spent and satisfied, we lie in bed naked, nose to nose, on our sides, our fingers intertwined, and talk softly in the moonlit room, the relaxing sounds of the ocean wafting through an open French door.
We talk and talk—about our childhoods, religion, politics, music, and movies. We argue to near-death about the “secret ingredient” for great guacamole. Ryan swears by a pinch of cumin; I say it’s a splash of Worcestershire sauce. Ryan calls the front desk and asks for a fitted sheet to be delivered by housekeeping and then proceeds to teach me how to properly fold a fitted sheet and then he promptly binds my hands with said sheet and fucks the hell out of me again.
After Ryan’s finished showing me every sheet-related trick in his arsenal (holy hell!), I teach Ryan a trick of my own: I pull him out of bed and teach him the basic steps to the tango—and then we dance around the room naked for a while, accompanied by the one song I never seem to tire of hearing, “Bailando.”
When we’re done dancing, we flop onto the bed and Ryan asks me to translate the lyrics to “Bailando,” line by line, so I pull them up on my phone and go through them.
