Tristan stripped off his clothes. He’d kept his promise to Tessa. He hadn’t wandered off the porch, but the rain was still coming down hard, sideways, and he was soaked through. Again.

It was mid-afternoon but felt much later. Finding Tessa on the beach, and everything that had happened since—it had drained him. Tristan was exhausted. Wet. And so on edge he didn’t know if he’d be able to sleep.

Tessa was still in the cot, the blanket pulled up to her chin. Her dark hair, now dry, pillowed around her head. She was sleeping on her back, her face tilted towards the door. He could practically taste the tempting sweep of her lips from the other side of the room.

So much for self-preservation, his little voice prodded.

Tristan didn’t give a fuck. She was there, with him. Gloriously, simply naked under those covers. In the bed that he’d called his for the past month. She’d found his secret hideaway and Tristan was going to enjoy it for as long as possible. Which might only be until the storm cleared. But even those few hours were more than Tristan had ever thought possible.

Finally free from his cold, wet clothes, Tristan got into the cot. It was narrow, barely comfortable when he was alone. But Tristan wasn’t going to sleep anywhere but with Tessa. Slipping under the blankets, Tristan shifted Tessa until she was facing the wall, her back to his front. Tristan curled his body against hers, twining their legs together and wrapping an arm around her waist.

She fit against him perfectly. Tristan rested his chin on top of her head, the scent of saltwater laid over the hint of sweetness that always seemed to follow her. Tessa’s breathing was slow and even, and Tristan closed his eyes, matching the push and pull of his lungs to hers.

He was hard. Fuck, he’d been hard since he’d taken her clothes off to check her cuts. And watching her come…. He’d almost lost it then. She’d felt so insanely good, her tight channel clutching his fingers as she broke apart, her breasts against his chest, her intoxicating perfume sharing the air with her soft cries. Tristan’s dick jumped at the thought. He buried his low groan in her hair and pulled her tighter, wincing when his throbbing cock sank into the soft crevice of her ass. It was torture, and it was heavenly.

Sleep came easier than it had in ages, but before drifting off Tristan registered an unexpected feeling in his face. A smile.

It was dark when he woke, and eerily silent outside. They must have been in eye of the hurricane, the rain and wind temporarily gone. Tessa was restless, her feet sliding along his calves in jerky little movements. Her head twisted on the pillow, a little sound escaping her mouth.

“Tessa?” Tristan slipped his bottom arm beneath her head, cradling it in the crook of his elbow. He pulled her tight against his chest with the other, lacing their fingers together on top of the blanket.

She shuddered, whispering something in her sleep.

“Tessa,” he repeated “Tessa, shhhhh, you’re okay.”

“Tristan?” Her voice was raspy, rough with sleep. She wiggled back into him and Tristan groaned into her shoulder when his cock jumped instantly to life.

“Yes, sweet. I’m here.” He squeezed her hand. “We’re fine, safe. Go back to sleep.”

Tessa grumbled something and shook her head against the pillow.

Tristan dropped a light kiss to her shoulder. “What was that?”

“I wasn’t worried about the storm.”

“No?”

“No.” Tessa arched slightly and rocked her ass, lightly stroking his cock against her skin. “I was thinking about something else.”

There. Tristan felt it again. A smile, followed by a low rumble in his chest. A laugh, warm and wonderful, and nowhere near as amazing as the feel of Tessa taunting him with her body.

“Hmmm. Care to share?”

“That’s exactly what I want to do.” Tessa turned over, a tempting grin on her lips.

Face to face, curled up under the covers, in the dim cabin, far away from the rest of the world, it hit Tristan just how beautiful Tessa was.

Her eyes were sleepy pools of chocolate, warm and smooth. Her lips rosy, well-kissed, and her cheeks flushed from the heat of the bed, her freckles adorable. But it was her expression that had his head swimming.

She was looking at him with a mixture of desire and determination, like she wanted him but thought she’d have to fight to get him. Which made him want to laugh again. Because, at that second, Tristan was more present than he’d been in his entire life. He didn’t feel any desire to run, or swim, or escape. If anything, it was the opposite. Tristan wanted to stay. Wanted to live in that little cot in that tiny cottage as long as Tessa was there, gazing at him like he was the only thing on the planet worth looking at.

Tessa ghosted her mouth across his, snaking her hands into his hair. The heat from her touch sank into the back of his neck and Tristan actually sighed.

She was watching him, expectant but hesitant, waiting for something.

Tristan traced her hairline with one finger, running past her ear down to her jaw, where he stopped, cupping her face with one hand. He brushed the tip of his nose against hers. “Kiss me,” he said, the flare of hunger in her eyes slamming into his gut. “Kiss m—”

And she was. Hot and slow and heavy. Like he was the source of every good thing in the world and this was her only chance to experience it. The weight of that kiss captured him, tied him down to the bed and the earth below it. Their lips knew just what to do, what to say. One would open and the other would take, with languid strokes and fractured breaths. Tessa pulled back to kiss the corner of his mouth, and Tristan parted hers wide, plunging his tongue ravenously. Tessa suckled his bottom lip, and Tristan dotted gentle kisses along the top of hers. It was a dance made up of soft presses and gaping, desperate yearning.

Tristan fell, into the kiss, into Tessa, into the fervor building around them.

And then they were kissing with more than just their mouths. Through the lusty haze, Tristan realized they were skin to skin, every inch of Tessa’s naked body caressing his. Every time their mouths met, she rocked into him. Breasts to chest, pebbled nipples hard and tempting, her smooth stomach to his ridged one, the leg she’d thrown over his thigh pulling his swollen erection against her slick heat.

He could feel her beneath his skin, sinking into his marrow. Tristan’s eyes rolled back, the sensation overwhelming and so right that he was left gasping for air.

It should always be like this. It should always feel like this. Like you’re alive….

“Tessa,” he groaned into her mouth.

“I know,” she answered, starting another wild, rolling kiss.

Tristan gave up what few thoughts he had left and turned himself over to her. Tessa could have whatever she wanted from him.

In the cool, dark stillness of the night, they explored each other.

Tessa ran her hands across his shoulders, mapping the lines of his muscles and bones. Tristan tensed when she found the web of scars that started at the top of his spine and spread across his right shoulder blade. But she didn’t linger, and Tristan kissed her harder, in thanks, when she moved to the groove of his lower back, tugging him closer as her hands slid to the divots above his ass.

Tristan swore into her mouth, his cock seeking the heat between her thighs. No, not yet….

“Yes, God, touch me,” she pleaded when Tristan palmed one breast, his fingers spreading wide across her chest. He dragged the pad of his thumb across her nipple and smiled when she bucked in response.

“You like that,” he teased, kissing the upper slope. “You like when I touch you here.” He pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tugging gently, dragging out Tessa’s moan. Proving his point.

“I-I-yes…” she stuttered as he took her other breast into his mouth, sucking gently while he pinched and pulled the other with more force. Tristan’s lips curved up as he soaked up her soft whimpers. Her hands were at his waist, his lower back out of reach as he bent to worship her chest. “Oh, fuck….” Tessa’s fingers spasmed when Tristan bit her nipple, caressing her right breast more softly, plumping it with his hand as he pulled her left one sharply into his mouth.

Tristan couldn’t taste enough of her. Her plush breasts, her puckered nipples, the lingering salt he could taste on her skin. She was the most delicious thing he’d ever had, and he wanted more.

Tristan shifted down the bed, dropping kisses along her stomach. When he got to her belly button Tessa stopped him, tugging on his hair.

“No,” she protested.

“Yes.” He traced her navel with his tongue.

“No,” she repeated. “Not now. I need to feel you.” Her voice became thin, pleading. “I’m going to lose my fucking mind if I don’t touch you. Please.”

How could he say no? The second her words registered, his dick jerked, a drop of liquid escaping. Fuck, he needed it as much as she did.

He tortured them both with one lingering kiss just above the line of her trim curls. Then, Tristan crawled up the bed, pushing Tessa flat beneath him. The head of his cock trailed along her leg and they both groaned.

Tristan pressed his hands into the bed, on either side of her head. His knees bracketed her thighs. Tessa’s eyes were half-lidded but burning bright, riveted to his. He hovered there, anticipation ratcheting higher and higher every second they just watched each other.

“Ask me again,” he said.

Tessa swallowed slowly, her fingertips barely grazing the deep line that angled towards his groin. “Let me touch you.”

Tristan was trembling. He’d never made love to a woman. He’d fucked them. Screwed them. Fooled around with him when he was a kid. Gotten off with them in college, learned how to please them as he’d gotten older. But, no matter how enjoyable those encounters had been, they’d been mechanical. Biological necessity.

But, this…. Tristan’s heart was pounding so hard he felt it echo in the small cabin. His skin was on fire, prickling with frantic need and a fear he couldn’t mute. This would be different. Everything about being with Tessa was different. And different terrified him. Routine was how Tristan survived. Head down, emotions in check, heart shut off, the repetitive motion of moving through the ocean helping him stay sane.

Tessa stayed still beneath him. Her breaths came out in short pants, her eyes dilated and desperate. Tristan could feel the heat of her hand just inches from his cock.

“Please,” she repeated, soft but determined. Tristan felt her fingers trace the “V” down to his groin ever so slightly, and every thought, every argument died. The lust was unstoppable. Different was going to destroy him. And he was going to enjoy every fucking second of it.

“God, yes,” he answered, his jaw clenching when she wrapped her hand around him. Tristan tipped his head back, a feral groan tearing free.

He was thick, hard, and throbbing, and Tessa’s hand was small and cool where she gripped him.

She stroked once, twice, slowly, like she was getting used to the feel of him. Tristan’s hips jerked, demanding more.

He looked down and almost lost it, his balls tightening dangerously. Tessa was staring at where they touched, watching her hand move up and down his shaft. Her eyes were filled with carnal appreciation and Tristan felt his dick get harder. She drew out another drop of pre-come and Tessa’s tongue skimmed her bottom lip, like she wanted to lick it off.

“God, Tristan,” she whispered, her eyes still on his cock. “You’re fucking beautiful.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Tessa.” Tristan’s arms bowed at his elbows, his broad back dipping in the middle as he buckled forward. He rocked his hips, unable to hold back. “Harder,” he groaned. “Stroke me harder.”

Tessa didn’t need to be told twice. She dropped her hand to his wide base and squeezed before pulling up. She swept her palm over his swollen glans, capturing the liquid and spreading it across the sensitive face. Down, then up, Tessa worked his cock, the sound of her hand against his flesh dark and illicit. And so fucking sexy Tristan wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to hold on.

“That feels so fucking good.” He never wanted her to stop, never wanted to go a day without having Tessa touch him this way. Like he was the gateway to her own personal paradise.

Tessa ran one finger across his slit, catching another drop and ringing it around the base of his head. At the same time, she cupped his balls with her other hand, massaging with her fingers. The friction of the bandage was rough and fucking perfect.

“Aghhhhh.” Tristan didn’t recognize the sound that came out of him. He was strung so tight, so enraptured by the way Tessa stroked him. But he needed more.

“Come here,” he growled. Tristan rolled to his side, shifting Tessa with him so they were facing each other. But Tessa kept going, pushing Tristan until he was flat on his back and she was straddling his lap.

She settled above him, her thighs parted over his hips, her hot core millimeters from his throbbing dick. She sat back, her perky ass brushing the tops of his thighs.

Tristan stopped breathing as she met his gaze and held it, sucking one of her fingers into her mouth before dropping the wet tip to where his swollen head jutted against his abs. She traced the rim of his crown with that single, slick finger and Tristan went blind.

His hips surged up, sinking the length of his cock between her swollen lips. Tessa’s head fell back, her mouth curving into the sexiest fucking smile he’d seen in his entire life.

“You,” he said, grinding his hips up again, “are the single most blindingly beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Tessa dropped her hips, rocking forward so that her clit caught his hard ridge. She fell to her elbows on his chest, her nipples scraping his pecs, her breath hot and rapid. “And you”—she said, pulsing forward, then sliding back long and slow—“feel better than anything in the entire fucking world.”

Tristan reached between them and spread her wide, making space for his erection between her folds. Tessa was so wet, her arousal quickly covered his fingers and cock. Her liquid heat seared him, and Tristan wanted inside, wanted to thrust so fast and so far into her. He got even harder at the thought and Tessa rocked again, rubbing her little nub against his broad glans.

He was so close, and he didn’t have a condom.

“Tessa, wait.” He grabbed her hips, hard. “Stop.” It took Tristan a few seconds to gather the air he needed. “I don’t have any protection.”

Tessa’s face fell instantly, and he wanted to scream. When he’d set up his makeshift home in the cabin he’d never even considered having a woman there. Let alone finding himself about to have sex with Tessa there.

“I’m not on birth control,” she said, her hips still pulsing, little, tiny movements, despite his punishing grip.

“I can’t—” Tristan shook his head, not knowing what to say. “We can’t—” He was clean. And, given what he knew about Tessa and their current position, he trusted she was too. But unprotected sex was out of the question. His family was so fucked up already, there was no chance he was risking an unplanned pregnancy on top of everything else.

“Shhh.” Tessa silenced him with a kiss. “I know. We can’t. We won’t. But we can do something else.”

Tessa lingered against his mouth for one more second before she pushed up. Using one hand, she adjusted them so that the length of Tristan’s cock was cradled fully between her lower lips, her heat and wetness surrounding him from his base to just below his head. Palms flat on his chest, she pushed down, gripping his hips with her thighs. They were wedged together tight and Tessa rocked once, slowly, stroking Tristan with her core.

Tristan’s legs locked and his back arched, his head sinking into the pillow as Tessa rode him slowly, then harder. Her hair was everywhere, the strands curled with humidity and sleep and sex. Her breasts bounced. Round, full, and tempting, Tristan could see the evidence of his fingers and lips on her flushed nipples. The sight of it made his cock grow longer, pre-come dripping from the tip.

Losing himself to Tessa’s rhythm, Tristan curled both hands around her ass, gripping her cheeks as she slid forward, then back. Coaxing, then following.

She was a force of nature above him. Gorgeous and powerful, her eyes were closed in concentration, her bottom lip pinched between her teeth, the crease between her eyes deepening every time she rubbed her clit against his head.

Sweat dotted her chest and his neck. They were barely breathing, every instinct focused on where they stroked themselves against each other. Tessa moved faster. Tristan’s hips rose to meet her, every time, the cot creaking beneath their rough efforts.

Tessa’s nails bit into his muscles. “Oh, fuck, Tristan,” she gasped. “You’re so hard. And feel so good against my clit. Fuuuuuck.” The words fell out of her mouth, thready and high-pitched as she got closer and closer to coming.

“That’s it, sweet Tess. Make yourself come. Use me. Use my cock to make yourself come.”

The tingling was heavy at the base of his spine. He was going to come, hard. And soon.

“Come, Tessa. Come for me. Come on me.” Tristan held down her hips as he surged up, angling just right so that he pressed against her clit. She was shaking, every muscle rigid as she got closer to breaking.

“So close. Tristan, yes! Don’t stop. I’m so close. So-fucking-close.”

Tristan repeated the movement, jerking up, dragging her hips down, his cock harder, longer, pulsing heavy between her parted folds and his sweat-slicked skin. They both just needed one more stroke, one more push, and….

Tessa shattered first, her back arching sharply, her mouth open, eyes closed as she came, her hair skimming his hands where he held her hips, shaking with pleasure.

“Tessa,” Tristan groaned as his own climax hit him. His cock jerked between them, hard, almost painfully, as his release flooded his stomach and chest. Pulse after pulse, the pleasure gripped him for what felt like forever. Tristan thought he was going to pass out. He felt high. Free. His lungs hurt, his muscles were sore, his heart was pounding. His body ached in a way it never did after being in the ocean. And his soul felt freer than it had in decades.

They stayed like that, locked in the rictus of pleasure, for several heartbeats. They were a mess, their skin slick with sweat and satisfaction. Slowly, Tessa collapsed against him. Their breathing slowed, feeling returning to their limbs.

“We’re a little gross.” She giggled against his chest.

“Fuck,” Tristan swore, his own rough laugh following. “We really are.” Their stomachs were practically stuck together and he grimaced. He doubted that was the way to make a good impression on his…. What was she? Friend? Girlfriend? What did he call the woman who’d given him the most mind-bending climax of his life without even really fucking him?

The woman who had unearthed something he’d kept hidden, locked away….

“Sorry.” Tristan was glad she couldn’t see the color on his cheeks. “I’ll get something to clean us up.” He shifted Tessa and slid out from beneath her, ignoring when she tried to pull him back.

There was a tiny bathroom in the far corner of the cabin. It was basic. Just a toilet and a small sink, with a dingy, uncovered light bulb that bobbed overhead. But it had running water. Tristan quickly wiped his stomach and sides clean before grabbing a towel for Tessa. For the first time since he’d moved in, he wished he’d stolen softer ones from the hotel.

Tessa was on her back, her eyes closed. She hummed as he gently cleaned her off, her hand playing idly with his hair as worked.

The wind had picked back up. The eye had passed, the second half of the hurricane ready to slam into the island. A tremor trickled through him at the thought that Tessa had been out there. Because of him.

“Stop thinking about it.” Tessa was looking up at him, her eyes drowsy with sleepy contentment.

“Hmm?”

“You’re thinking about me. And the storm. And you can stop. I’m here. Safe. With you. So stop thinking about it and come back to bed.” Tessa shifted, making room for him.

Tristan joined her under the covers, relaxing as she slung one thigh over his legs and wrapped her arm around his chest. They both sighed when Tessa nestled her head into the groove of his shoulder.

Tristan’s eyes closed. “Has anyone ever told you that you can be very bossy?” He felt her lips curve against his pec.

“No one would dare. At least”—she paused, placing a soft kiss to his skin—“not in the kitchen.”

Tristan huffed a laugh into her hair, his body blanketed in the most incredible warmth. “I’ll be sure to remember that. Next time.”

“Don’t get any ideas.” Tessa yawned.

“Me? Never.”

She was breathing softly against him, and Tristan fell asleep, the storm outside almost completely forgotten.