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And then I couldn’t. Hardly at all. I started to wheeze and gasp. Shite, I was having an asthma attack. I couldn’t get any air in. My vision receded, my lungs burning, screaming for oxygen. Andrew quickly grabbed my inhaler from the nightstand and passed it over. One, then two puffs, and I could finally feel relief. Sweet, sweet air rushed into me. Andrew rubbed my back in soothing circles.
“Are you okay now? Can I get you anything?” he asked. I shook my head as I focused on my breath. I felt the constriction gradually ease and then I was able to inhale normally again.
“Oh, God, I’m sorry. First time I’ve had an asthma attack right after an orgasm,” I gasped. “But what a way to go.”
“Now’s not the time for your British sense of humor, sweetheart. Are you alright?” Andrew looked at me with concern.
I nodded and leaned back against the pillow, my breathing getting slower and deeper. “Repeat that please.”
“Now’s not the time...”
“Not that!” I whispered as I turned my head to look at him.
“I don’t know what you mean. Sweetheart,” he murmured and kissed my shoulder, then my neck. Sweet, soft kisses. Every touch had me falling a bit deeper, a bit harder.
“Yes. Call me that again. It fucking turns me on.”
“I think I could recite the alphabet backwards at this point and it would turn you on.” He rolled his eyes. “How can you think of sex right now? You just had an attack.”
“It’s your fault. You keep kissing me,” I whined, and he shook his head.
“I’m fine now. And so’s my dick. Look.” I pointed to my lap.
“You’re crazy.” Andrew laughed.
“Crazy for you.”
“Thank you, Madonna,” he teased, then kissed me softly. “I feel the exact same way. Now slide down under the covers and relax.”
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep.”
He pulled me into his arms, and I moaned at the contact. I fit there perfectly. I never wanted to leave.
“Andrew, I…”
“Yes?” he murmured as he kissed my neck.
“Nothing. Just hold me and don’t let go,” I whispered.
“I’ve got you, love.”
He certainly did.
TWENTY-TWO
ANDREW
Our last full day was pretty much spent in our room, including breakfast, then lunch. We made it outside in the afternoon for a quick dip in the ocean and then we headed back inside to fuck frantically on every available surface. And before I knew it, it was January 3rd. We got up, showered, dressed, and packed on autopilot. Neither one of us spoke to the other this morning, as if we sensed that we had no words to describe what had happened between us and didn’t want to voice our worry over what was coming next.
We chatted with Jasper and Xavier before we left. Xavier sent me his mother’s contact details, and we promised to stay in touch. Jasper hugged Rowan tightly and whispered something in his ear. Whatever it was, Rowan nodded at his friend and gave him one last hug, like he was reassuring him.
We stood on the dock at the marina, waiting for Charlie with the tender. The sky was clear and perfect, but the winds had picked up, and boats began to rock with the motion of the swells. It felt strange after holding Rowan’s hand for three days to stand beside him like a stranger. But I didn’t know what to do. I’d set up the rules for this weekend, and now I wanted to forget they existed. We were fooling ourselves, and I was the biggest fool of all.
I was in love with Rowan, but there was no future in it. I worried that once he was back on board, he’d see this as a wonderful weekend but nothing more. Would there be a way for us to continue a real relationship or was that wishful thinking on my part?
The tender approached, and I waved at Charlie. Beside me, Rowan stood rigid, but I felt his gaze on my face. I turned my head to look at him, and he seared me with a look so blistering, I felt the heated backdraft all the way through to my bones.
“This isn’t over, my love,” he murmured.
