I lay down on the bed and relived those beautiful moments with him where we sat together, where he told me I want to see you. I want to touch you. My daydreaming self was much braver than my real self and so in my fantasy, I dropped the towel and he looked at me. And instead of the disgust I feared in his eyes, I only saw desire. Hot desire. When Adam was turned on, his dark eyes glowed with it. They were luminous, beautiful. Like smoldering coals.

I swallowed, my throat suddenly tight, my heart racing with my own desire. I pictured Adam’s hands sliding up my waist, moving over my breasts. I remembered how it had felt the other night, his thumbs rubbing over my nipples repeatedly. Lust arced through me and despite the irony of joking that I’d be in my bunk, my hand went between my legs because the tension that had been building in me since arrival was now full to bursting and I couldn’t take it anymore. He wasn’t going to touch me until we knew for sure I was better. But I couldn’t wait any longer.

I let out a little moan. It was my hand but I imagined it was his and in the middle of my fantasy, I felt a weight sag the bed. I stopped, opening my eyes and looked up. Adam sat on the bed beside me, watching me. He’d never caught me in the act before and in my daze I realized I should probably be embarrassed but I was just too turned on to be. And the fact that he was sitting there, watching me, turned me on even more.

He bent down and kissed me, took my hand and put it back where it had been, rubbing against my clitoris. His hand settled on top of mine, pressing it down. And he was penetrating me, his tongue in my mouth and his fingers inside me. I cried out but it was muffled by his mouth.

When he pulled his mouth away, he was whispering things that made the nerve endings dance all over the surface of my skin. “You are so sexy, Emilia. My sexy, naughty girl. I want to watch you come. I want to hear you.”

I gasped again. “I’m imagining you on top of me. Inside me.”

He groaned and kissed me again, my mouth, my neck, my ears. He lay down beside me, his robe falling open and I could see the corded muscles of his chest, the edge of his tattoo peeking out from under the snowy white. “I wish you could fuck me, Adam. I want you so much.”

“I want you too. I want to pleasure you. I want to make you feel good. Do you feel good?”

“Yes, yes, I feel good.”

He moved again, pushing my legs open, he placed himself between them. My thighs pressed against his sturdy shoulders and he was licking me. I yelped and grabbed the headboard behind me, my eyes rolling back. It felt—So. Damn. Good. Every part of me was on fire and I was breathing so fast I couldn’t catch my breath. All I could feel was that point of my body where Adam’s mouth connected to me, his tongue penetrating, his mouth sucking. My back arched and I was coming so violently that my hips bucked off the bed and collided with his head. He jerked back and held me down, then put his mouth against me again, refusing to let up until the powerful convulsions had stopped and I was whimpering, begging for him to take his mouth away because the feelings were so intense they now hurt…

My body was plunged into lassitude, every bit of tension rung from it like a damp rag. I could only lie there and relish that stunning afterglow that had me flying so high. Adam straightened and looked at me, then ran a hand over my stomach before moving up to lie beside me. We lay like that for a long time, the tops of our heads pressed together but no other part of us touching. I reached out and grabbed his hand, lacing my fingers around his.

Then he turned and did the most wonderful thing of all. He said, “Don’t let that shitty voice inside your head tell you that you aren’t sexy. Ever. Because you are burning a hole right through me. And I love it.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Adam

Two days after we returned home, Emilia went in for her scan. I could hardly breathe at all the entire day. And I had to sit in a waiting room in the hospital while she was gone for hours, much of the time locked inside a giant machine, keeping absolutely still. At least that’s how they’d explained it would happen.

Since waking up that morning and getting ready, she’d been unusually quiet. And just before being called back, she had taken off the compass I’d given her—probably one of the few times it was ever off of her body, but she had been prohibited to wear or hold it during the scan. She’d pressed it into my palm and made me swear to keep it safe. I looked down into my palm now, studying the dark blue surface, the constellation outlined in diamonds. My throat closed with emotion and I stuffed it in my shirt pocket.

I glanced across from me where Kim sat paging jerkily through a magazine without reading it. My Uncle Peter had a hand on her leg, watching her with concerned eyes. My leg tapped up and down repeatedly.