Blake cradled her head in his hands. When he kissed her, Julia knew that no matter where in the world he was, as long as he was with her they’d be home.

“Do you have dinner plans?” he murmured, still kissing her face, the flutter of her eyelids soft against his lips.

“I used to.”

He laughed quietly. “I hope I’m not ruining things.”

She touched her finger to his nose. “You once told me you intended to ruin me.”

“Mmm.” He licked his lips. “Then I’d better get started.”

“How about Indian?” she said. “There’s a great delivery place down the block, they’ll be slow on a Friday night, but…” She let her fingers trace over his mouth, along his clavicle, down the front of his chest where she longed to follow with her lips. “Maybe we could find some way to pass the time.”

And then it was as though a switch in him suddenly flipped. Gone was the reserved Blake standing politely at arm’s distance, explaining himself to her. Inching forward until he was close enough to stroke her hand. At her words, he reached for her as he pushed back his chair and stood. She leaped up so her legs were straddling his waist. He held her in his strong arms and she kissed him, tugging on his lower lip with her teeth. She wanted this so much it hurt.

Her hips rocked against him as they clung tightly to one another, kissing furiously. He pressed against her through his jeans and she remembered the first time she’d felt him like this, in the pool. Only now it was in her kitchen, nothing magical or faraway about that, and it still turned her on like it had the first time. Maybe even more.

“Blake,” she moaned, the thrill of his name pulsing through her body. “I love you, Blake.” She kissed him again. “I love you.” The words escaped of their own volition before she could think or second-guess herself. But as soon as she said it she knew there was no second-guessing, because it was true. That their time together had been short didn’t make it any less real. She wanted Blake, wanted all of him, and she was going to make sure he knew.

Blake wrapped one hand tighter around her upper thigh while the other hand slid up the back of her shirt, the hint of skin on skin making her back arch so that her hips drove harder against him. His kiss was possessive, and she let herself be claimed.

“I love you, Julia Evans,” he told her. “There’s no way I’m letting you go.”

“Don’t,” she said, “ever.” She tugged on his lip with her teeth. He groaned and kissed her harder.

“I need you,” she said, and felt his lips turn in a smile.

“I thought you needed food.”

She laughed, heart galloping out of her chest. “Menu. In the kitchen. By the fridge.” She couldn’t form full sentences while her lips were on his, her tongue searching, tasting, drawing him in.

He staggered backward, spinning her until her back was up against the refrigerator, her legs still wrapped around him. He used the door as a brace to hold her up while he pinned her with his pelvis, leaving a hand free to reach for her breasts as he kissed the side of her neck, making her moan.

“In the drawer,” Julia panted as his teeth found her ear lobe and tugged.

He thrust against her to keep her in place against the fridge, and she loved the feel of it, the way he held her there so that she couldn’t move. The pressure of him, the pressure against her back, her thighs open and aching for him.

She craned her neck to see into the drawer. “The red one,” she said. He pulled it out and then brought his hand back under her ass to hold her up as he lifted her away from the fridge.

“Bedroom?” he asked. She steered him into the room, kissing him, laughing as he bumped her into the table, the edge of the couch, staggering backward as he refused to pull his lips from hers.

He dropped her on the bed and flopped down next to her. “Favorite choices?” he asked, passing her the menu.

But no matter how much her stomach was growling, she couldn’t focus on that. She pushed the menu away and swung her leg over him, pulling herself up so she was straddling his thighs as he lay back on the bed and gazed up at her.

“Blake,” she murmured as she ran her hands up his chest, first over his shirt and then under, feeling the ripples in his stomach, catching on the button to his jeans before she unhooked it and slid the zipper down. “My favorite choice is Blake.”

She dropped down until she was kneeling on the floor before him as he lay there, pants unbuttoned, the bulge of his cock so tempting she wanted to savor it before she slid it all the way out and put her mouth on him. He groaned, his eyes closed, waiting. The sweetness of anticipation. She thought about how nervous she’d felt when they’d first been together in the pool. He’d seemed so sure of himself—and so sure that the next day, he was going to leave.

How much things had changed for both of them.

This wasn’t a promise. It wasn’t a guarantee. But it wasn’t going to be a one-night stand. This was the start of something too big to be contained in a night, in a week, in any set amount of time. It was too big for a postcard, an email. Too big to have in one talk.

It was in all the things that weren’t said, all the things that didn’t have to be, all the things that shouldn’t have been. Maybe they never talked about what had happened between them in Brazil, not because there wasn’t anything to talk about, but because there was too much to know how to say it all. Maybe Blake really had been hoping for her to broach the topic first, for the same reasons she hadn’t brought it up with him. Who wanted to be the one who didn’t understand what the fling was—the one who ruined it by bringing up feelings that weren’t supposed to be there? Who wanted to be the one left behind when the other person moved on?

Or maybe it was like he’d said, and he’d simply needed more time to sort out what was in his heart, the same way Julia had. Because it was only when faced with his absence that she truly understood what it had meant to know him by her side. The pain wasn’t in leaving, she’d come to realize, but in having to go through every subsequent moment knowing both of them had left.

She slid him out of his pants and pushed his shirt up so she could lick along his stomach, flick his nipples with her tongue. Work her way down with such tantalizing slowness that he was squirming by the time she touched the tip of his cock lightly, teasing, with her tongue. She licked along the length of his shaft, then slid her mouth over him. She loved the feel of him, the taste of him, the way he filled her mouth. The way he filled her, completely.

And then she was standing before him, pulling her clothes off, reaching over to get a condom from her nightstand, climbing on top of him. Murmuring her love to him as her body lowered down. It was different in her apartment, in her home, surrounded by the quietness of her everyday life. And it was different knowing that this wouldn’t be the last time.

That should have been scary, but she wasn’t afraid. She was on the edge of the cliff and she was running, she was hitting the edge, she was taking the next step with nothing to hold her up, but she already knew that when she tumbled off the edge of the platform, she would feel not the absence of ground beneath her but the thrill of flying with her brand new wings.

If she fell, well, at least the views would be worth it on the way down. But first the wind would catch her and she’d fly.

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