“You seem calm. Too calm. It worries me. I don’t know if it’s an act or if nothing can shake you anymore.”
Harmony gazed back at him, feeling herself soften inside the small circle of safety he always seemed to carry. The moonlight silvered his features and made the world feel smaller, closer, suspended just for them.
Adrenaline had nowhere left to go, so it turned into want.
“I think I’m past the point of shaking,” she whispered.
He searched her face. “Aren’t you afraid of how this ends?”
“I’m more scared of what I’ll find out about myself,” she said quietly. “Fear can be useful, though. It reminds us that we’re still human. That we can be hurt.”
He stepped closer, the night folding around them. “Sometimes I don’t think you are vulnerable. Sometimes I believe that nothing can touch you.”
His hand rose and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. He tucked it behind her ear, fingertips lingering as if waiting for her to pull away.
She didn’t.
“Maybe that’s the point,” she murmured. “To be strong enough that no one can reach the vulnerable spots.”
They stood so close their breaths mingled. She could move away. She didn’t. She didn’t want to. Every emotion, every pleasure, every unanswered question had tightened between them for months, maybe even years.
She wasn’t sure who leaned in first. She wasn’t sure it mattered.
His arms wrapped around her as his mouth found hers. The kiss was soft at first—curious, tentative, as if asking for permission. When she didn’t resist, it deepened, hunger rising like a tide.
Her back hit the wall of the building, his body pressing into hers. The fountain roared nearby, masking sound as restraint shattered.
He lifted her easily, and she wrapped her legs around him as he bit her bottom lip. She groaned, fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him closer. His hands traced her sides, then slid beneath her skirt, rough palms gliding up her thigh. When his fingers brushed her lace panties, she gasped into his mouth.
There were no questions now.
No hesitation.
Just hunger.
Fabric ripped in his hands. Her breath hitched at the sound.
She heard his zipper, then felt him—hot, urgent, undeniable.
He kissed her long and hard, and then buried himself deep inside her, his lips swallowing her cry. Her back bruised against the stucco, but the pain only sharpened the pleasure. She clung to him, lost in sensation.
The climax hit fast and violently. She buried her face in his neck as he pulled her tighter, body shuddering as he emptied into her. It was desperate, messy, necessary. A release the island itself seemed to demand of them.
For a long moment, they stayed tangled together, breathing each other’s air, skin slick with sweat. Slowly, her legs loosened, and he lowered her to the ground. She held onto him until her knees steadied.
They separated, still breathless.
A faint metallic click echoed from somewhere beyond the fountain, like a radio mic being palmed too hard. Harmony’s gaze flicked toward the sound—but the street was empty.
Zach smiled—soft but shaken. “I wasn’t expecting that. But I’m not unhappy it happened.”
Harmony laughed. “Well . . . it’s been coming for a long time . . . and was desperately needed.”
“Come home with me,” he said, his voice warm, his eyes gleaming.
She shook her head. “I have zero regrets, and I’d love to have more. But I need to write. That’s what I do when the world around me bleeds. It’s how I make it behave.”
Disappointment flickered through his eyes, but he nodded. She traced his jaw lightly, his five o’clock shadow scraping her nails—a thank you, a goodbye, a promise of nothing.
