He was right. We'd been observed, recorded, and analyzed—our privacy invaded in ways that transcended physical surveillance. Now, at last, we existed only for each other.
I peeled the fabric from his shoulders, exposing his chest inch by inch. His body had changed since Tahiti—leaner now, hardened by weeks of flight and vigilance.
A flush spread across his shoulders. "You're staring."
"Memorizing," I cupped the sharp angle of his jaw. "I didn't finish before."
Our first night together on that distant beach was born of desperation—two drowning men clinging to whatever fragments of their lives remained. Later, in the cabin, we came together in the shadow of impending catastrophe. But now... this was different.
Alex reached for the hem of my shirt, tugging upward with gentle insistence. "My turn."
I raised my arms, allowing him to pull the fabric over my head. The air against my bare skin raised goosebumps. His palms pressed flat against my chest.
He leaned in to kiss me. I tasted mint from chewing gum. Reaching up, I raked my fingers through his hair.
We headed to the bedroom without breaking contact, shedding our remaining clothes. The sheets, the first soft cotton in days, felt impossibly soft against my bare skin.
I traced the landscape of Alex's body—the hollow at his throat, the constellation of freckles across his shoulders, and the sensitive spot just above his hip that made his breath catch.
He whispered against me. "You're trembling."
"Not from fear—excitement."
Alex pressed his lips against my neck. "We've never done this."
"Done what?"
"Been together without something or someone chasing us. Without time running out."
He was right. We'd stolen and borrowed every moment we shared against uncertain futures. We'd never simply claimed time together as ours.
I responded not with words but with the press of my body against his.
His cock stiffened against my thigh, and I wrapped my hand around it, relishing the low groan that escaped him. He moved against me, sliding a leg between mine, intensifying the exquisite friction.
He curled his fingers around my shaft, and the world went hazy at the edges.
We rolled together, Alex pinning me beneath him. He kissed me, and then his lips wandered, tracing the line of my jaw and the arc of my collarbone until I gasped for a breath. He was everywhere, and it was almost too much, more than I could bear.
"Fuck," he breathed.
I only managed one syllable in one response. "Yeah."
He reached for a condom, unrolling it over me with skilled fingers. "Been waiting for this."
He grabbed the lube from the nightstand, slicked his fingers, and reached behind himself. I watched him, transfixed, as he worked them inside, opening himself with slow determination, his lips parted as he concentrated.
When he was ready, he straddled me, guiding me slowly and carefully until I was inside him. He let out a shuddering breath.
With a rocking motion, he began to move, meeting each thrust with a rising urgency. There was no clock ticking here, no footsteps in pursuit, only the two of us—present.
Alex splayed his fingers on my chest. His head fell back, lips parting in a silent moan, and I watched him ride the crest, bringing us right to the edge.
He paused, holding us there, and I cried out at the sudden denial. He smiled, wicked and knowing, before rocking forward again, taking us back and forth until my vision blurred.
Suddenly, he shifted, altering the angle, and I was lost. He pushed his body down with a fierce finality, and we both went over the edge. The world dissolved into white light and heat.
My name was on his lips, and his on mine. He collapsed against me, and I wrapped my arms around him, feeling the wild, staccato beat of his heart against me.
