It was about a thirty-five-minute drive from the airport to our hostel, and Derrick spent the entire time reading out facts and pointing out random landmarks, as dictated and described by The Ultimate Traveler. I was quickly realizing, aside from being drop-dead gorgeous, funny and clever, he was also kind of nerdy — another ticked box; I seriously loved me some nerds.

Ray had been my first real nerd, buff on the outside but brilliant on the inside. I always felt challenged by him. Our conversations were stimulating and interesting. Not a day went by where I didn’t learn something from him, and I loved that. Being the first person in my family to graduate from university, I valued education, whether it be formal or simply sitting on the couch and hearing about the amazing discoveries and things he did in the lab each day. I always felt like I’d bettered myself and enhanced my intelligence somehow just talking to my husband. And I got that same vibe from Derrick, that this man could teach me things. I knew I’d never be bored or left feeling unchallenged or unstimulated. Tick, tick, tick in the boxes.

“Did you know,” Derrick started…again, “that Miraflores is a district of the Lima Province in Peru? It’s known for being safer than other districts, and for its exclusive residential houses and upscale shopping district. Apparently, as a city in itself, Lima isn’t overly special, but Miraflores is where most tourists come and stay.” He looked up from his book and grinned at me. “So, we’re headed in the right direction.”

I smiled back, my eyes drifting back out the window of the van, watching an entirely new world zoom by. A short while later, and after several interesting facts about Lima and Miraflores from my sexy new travel buddy, hostel neighbor and walking, talking Wikipedia article, we pulled up to a wrought-iron gate with spikes on top and barbed wire hugging the spikes. Looming above was a five-story banana-yellow building made of stucco and brick with barred windows and more spikes and barbed wire around the balconies. Was this a hostel or a prison?

Our shuttle driver helped us unload and then buzzed the front door. It clicked open a second later, and we were ushered inside. The lobby and entranceway weren’t overly memorable or inviting — a small desk, a couple of old couches, some stands and racks of pamphlets for tours. Nothing out of the ordinary, but also nothing exciting. At least the last place I’d stayed, in Panama, had a pinball machine in the front entrance, and the place before that had a bird cage with a talking parrot that said “Welcome” in fifteen different languages.

I handed over my passport. The woman behind the desk scanned it, then she brought out a big reservation book and started trailing her finger down the pages to find my booking. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Really? This was the twenty-first century; I booked it online. Surely, they had some online record. And her computer was right in front of her…something was starting to smell a little fishy.

Suddenly her head popped up, and she bit her lip, her eyes flying back and forth between me and the reservation book. “I…I’m very sorry, Ms. Valentine.” Her lip trembled. “We…we no longer have your room.”

I gaped at her. “Then how did you know to pick me up from the airport?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. B-but, your room is now occupied. We are full.”

I blinked at her, not quite sure what to do next. “I booked this three days ago. I have my confirmation receipt… See?” I opened up my travel file folder, went to the tab marked “accommodation” and thrust it into her hands. My OCD for organization and my law-student meticulous attention to detail were coming out in droves. She took it from me and studied it, her eyes flying too quickly across the page to truly be paying attention to anything.

She shook her head. “I—I’m sorry. We can give you your deposit back if you’d like to store your bag here while you go and find somewhere else to stay.” That was a weird thing to offer; why wouldn’t I take my bag with me? Maybe it was a cultural thing, or something was getting lost in translation.

I blew my bangs off my forehead and rolled my eyes. “Yeah…sure…I guess.”

“What about my room? Could we share?” Derrick asked, tucking his Ultimate Traveler under his arm and stepping forward, flashing a dashing grin at the shaking little Peruvian woman. He’d been quietly watching the entire exchange while standing just a couple of steps behind me. She’d already checked him in and confirmed his reservation. Lucky duck.

I shot him a dubious look. “Share?”

“Well, do I have twin beds? Could we share?”

The little Peruvian woman, whose name tag said “Gladys,” perked up. “Si, si…yes…yes, you can share. You can share.” And then she grabbed a key from the panel of hooks and keys behind her and practically threw it at him.

My mouth just hung open. “Uh…”

“This way.” And before I even knew what was going on, we were following her up four flights of stairs, sweat trickling between my breasts and misting my brow by the time we made it to a door marked “4.”

Oh crap!

I’m not superstitious or anything, but my best friend, Emily, is Chinese, and her family is very superstitious, and according to them, the number four is bad. Very, very bad. I don’t know why it’s bad, but it is. Hotels and apartments in some parts of Asia don’t even have a fourth floor; it’s that bad. An ominous shiver ran through me despite the heat in the building and in my body from just hiking half the Andes up to the room. But I pushed the bad thoughts about the number four out of my head and waited for Derrick to open his door with the key. That was a bad number in Asia; we were in South America, so it didn’t count, right?

“Yes, you share.” The front desk woman grinned, believing that the problem had been solved. That it was no biggie for two total strangers to share a room.

The door swung open, and there it was. A giant king-size bed. Staring at us, taunting us.

“You uh…you can take the bed if you’d like,” Derrick murmured, his eyes fixed straight ahead. Ever since Gladys, from the front desk, had taken her leave of us, we hadn’t made eye contact. We’d just stood there, at the foot of the bed, taking in the lush red duvet with gold embroidery and matching pillow cases. The whole thing screamed: “Come have sex on me.”

“I can sleep on the floor.” He was unable to meet my eyes.

I didn’t say anything. I just swallowed. And my eyes fell to the bathroom door, and I suddenly longed for a shower. The water at my last hostel had stopped running two days ago, so I’d been bathing with baby wipes. I needed to wash my hair and shave my pits.

“I, um…do you mind if I have a shower?” I asked, the red from the bed drawing my gaze like a waving flag before a bull.

His head snapped up, gray eyes dancing. “No, no of course not. Go right ahead.”

Nodding, but not saying anything, because the enormous bed in the middle of the room was saying enough for the both of us, I yarded my bag over to a corner and started rooting around inside looking for clothes and toiletries.

Naked as a jay bird and ready to get clean, I stepped into the shower and turned on the water, loving the feeling of the warm spray as it cleansed my body of the hot tropical grime. I was rinsing my hair when squeaks and groans from the faucet and pipes made me squint through the soapy bubbles, and all of a sudden, like a bullet from a gun, the on/off handle burst from the wall and smacked me in the leg. Then the spray nozzle squealed and shot from the wall as well. Before I knew it, water was everywhere, all over the bathroom — because of course, the bathroom had to be open concept with just a shower, no doors or curtains — nothing. The room was soaked in seconds, the toilet, the sink, the floors, the mirror. It was as if the skies had opened up and the roof had flown off.

I hadn’t even realized it, but I’d been screaming. Fumbling around and stupidly trying to put the handle back on, or force the water down the drain with my hands… for a lawyer, logic in the face of chaos had escaped me.

Incessant knocking at the door had me slipping in the tub, grappling at nothing because there wasn’t anything, no handles, nothing to grab onto, and winding up on my ass, legs spread.

“Everything okay?” Panic and curiosity battling it out for top dog in his tone.

“Don’t come in here!” I called, blinded by the spray while my hands slipped and slid on the tiles as I tried to gain enough momentum to push myself up.

“What’s wrong?”

I grunted, my eyes flying to the door and its jiggling knob. “Don’t come in here!”

The door started to open. “I’m not looking. I swear,” he said, coming around the corner his hand over his eye. “Are you okay? I heard pipes bursting and lots of spraying water.” He tilted his head down. “And I uh… I see LOTS of water”.

I was stuck. I whimpered. “The handle and nozzle exploded, and I fell.”

“D-do you need help?”

I let out a sigh. “Yes. But you’re going to have to look to see what you’re doing.”

“I can try to cover my eyes.”

“Move your hand, Derrick!”

His hand slid down over his face, and his eyes took in my compromised and incredibly embarrassing state. Naked, wet and spread eagle on the tiled bathroom floor, while the water poured down on me like a rainforest afternoon monsoon. The whole room had become enveloped in a thick and steamy fog, while the floor began to resemble a public pool.

A quick flash to my breasts and crotch, because he’s a man and, well, of course, and then he sloshed his way through the water, and his hands were under my arms, hoisting me up.

“Here.” He righted me on my feet, his shirt and jeans getting soaked in the process, while droplets beaded on his lashes like dew on a leaf. I stumbled against him as I tripped over the ledge of the shower, falling into his arms, against his hard chest. “Whoa.”

“Sorry,” I murmured, finding my arms up around his neck, holding on for dear life.

Our eyes locked. “It’s okay. You, uh…you need a towel.”

I bit my lip. “I…I think they’re all wet.”

“Yeah.” He swallowed, realizing that my breasts were mashed against his chest, my leg wedged between his. “Wet.”

I shook my head and blinked, breaking the spell. “We need to stop the water.”

His eyes refocused. “Right!” And he gently let me go and stepped over the ledge and into the shower. Squeaks and groans from the pipes and some manly grunts, and suddenly the clouds parted, and the thunderstorm was over.

He looked back over his shoulder at me, drenched from head to toe, glistening wet like a golden Adonis. His white linen shirt clung to his body while his jeans hugged him like a second skin. “We might have to move hostels,” he sighed.

I nodded and bit my lip. “Yeah.”

He looked down at his body and slowly started to peel away the wet layers. I swallowed as he unbuttoned his shirt, and his abs, chiseled and glowing, revealed themselves. Pecs and arms, a sexy as hell back. Holy mother of God. And then the jeans. What on earth was his angle here?

He kicked out of them, and then there he stood, in nothing but black boxer briefs, looking like something Michelangelo had manifested in an attempt to improve on The David. And there I was, still naked. He looked at me, his pupils dilating as he raked my body with his gaze, lingering on my breasts. My nipples pearled in arousal from the intensity of his stare. I couldn’t help myself, and I continued to study him with open fascination, watching as a telltale bulge began to grow in the front of his shorts.

“I, uh…” I licked my lips, while my eyes refused to travel back to his face.

“Piper?"

“Derrick?” I swallowed again. Finally, my eyes fell back on his face. His nostrils flared like a lion that had just caught the scent of an impala, while the look he gave me was pure, unadulterated need, craving.

And then, we were on each other. Mouths crashing, while hands flew into hair, and my breasts mashed even harder against his tight chest. I leaped up onto his hips, and he ploughed us over to the counter, resting my butt on the cold, wet tile, while his teeth nipped my lips and his hands came down to caress and knead my breasts. I was breathless, struck dumb with how badly I wanted this, how badly I needed this. I needed to feel alive, and, holy hell, did Derrick make me feel alive.

I clung to him, scratching at his back, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, and pulled him against me. His tongue wedged its way into my mouth, challenging mine to a duel, twirling and swirling around one another in a velvety acrobatic dance while our lips and teeth got in the way but also made it so much better. I mewled as his teeth found my neck, licking up the sensitive tendon, while one of his hands traveled down between us and into my folds, finding me wet, hot and needy.

He pulled away for just a second, his eyes glassy and lips swollen. He looked adorable. “Piper…”

I fluttered my eyelashes, having already started shamelessly bucking into his fingers. “What?”

“I…I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

I shook my head. “You’re not. Trust me.” Please don’t ask me about my dead husband. I want an orgasm more than I want to breathe right now, and dead husbands are a serious mood killer.

But that seemed to be enough for him, and he nodded. “Condom…in my bag.”

I sighed. Thank God, because I didn’t have any with me. I certainly hadn’t ruled sex out on this trip, but it hadn’t been paramount on my agenda either.

And removing his hand from my clit, where he had been rubbing little erotic circles, he scooped me back up by the butt and carried me through the bathroom and into our room, tossing me on the bed.

Within twelve seconds he had located the condoms in his bag and was on top of me.

“You’re sure?” he asked again, a lock of his sexy dark hair falling carelessly across his forehead. Oh, my God, he was gorgeous.

I nodded and wrapped my legs around his pelvis, pushing up into him. “Very sure.”

His grin stole my breath. “Well, in that case.” He quickly sat up on his knees, pulled off his boxer briefs, oh mama! And rolled on the rubber.

I licked my bottom lip again and swallowed. The sight of a man touching himself, right before he touched me, was a weakness of mine. So primal, so hedonistic. He covered me again, his biceps and delts flexing next to my shoulders as he hovered above me, carrying all of his weight. I ached to have him inside me, ached to feel the touch of a man again, to be consumed and filled again. It’d been too long.

Our eyes locked, and I thought for sure he was going to rear up and slam home, but instead he dipped his head and brushed his lips against mine. Sweet and light and not at all what I wanted. I needed hard and fast. It’d been too long for my dry spell to be quelled with gentle and kind. I needed nasty. I needed dirty.

I jerked my head up and nipped his chin, laughing low in my chest at his startled gasp. But then he picked up on my vibe and nipped back. His teeth began grazing down my jaw and neck and shoulder, moving over to my nipple. He took the hard, crimson bud greedily into his mouth and sucked, pulling with his teeth and flicking with his tongue. I arched into him.

“More,” I hummed, letting my head tilt back into the pillows and my eyes close. “More.”

He smiled against my chest, and then moved over to the other nipple, delivering the same exquisite torture as before, pulling just enough to garner a feline mewl from my parted lips.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he said with a snarl, lifting his head to look me in the eye again, our hips churning against one another, both of us desperate for the same thing. For the connection.

“Fuck me! Fuck me hard and fast…please.”

Gray eyes flared back at me, and he lifted his hips, set his face into a determined scowl and finally, finally, drove home, sheathing himself to the hilt in one solid thrust. I let out an involuntary grunt from the impact. He was big. Not monster big, but it’d been a while since I’d been with any man at all, and this man was well-endowed to boot.

“You okay?” His pelvis paused mid-thrust. Meanwhile, all I wanted was for him to pick up the speed and hammer me into the mattress until I was putty.

I nodded and bucked up into him. “Yeah…it’s just…it’s been a while. Don’t stop…please don’t stop.”

That smile. And then he did as he was told and went to task. I ground myself against him, frantic for more friction, to feel that sweet little brush of his pelvic bone against my clit, the intermittent rubbing and teasing, lulling my whole body and every nerve ending into eager submission until all I felt was good. With each dirty thrust, he split me open wider, his body claiming mine, dominating mine, possessing mine.

Within moments I was already close, my pussy trembling with every pull and gripping him with every push. I let my hands travel down his back and ribs, exploring his body, his smooth skin, toned muscles, faint scars. I couldn’t help myself, and I let my fingers fall to his clenching butt. The taut muscle flexed and tightened with every measured thrust. I dug my nails in, and he hissed and then chuckled low and menacing against my shoulder.

“Naughty girl… you’ll pay for that.”

My eyes flashed wide. Would I really? Yes, please.

He chomped down hard on my nipple in revenge, so I dug my fingers in more. He bit down again, this time nearly piercing the skin, all the while the thrusting, the hammering, the plundering never stopped. The man was a machine. Gone was the nerd spewing out facts like an encyclopedia. All that was left was a beast, a savage sex beast ravishing my body until I could no longer think about anything but how good he felt inside me.

He chuckled low and then picked up speed, while his hand came around behind me and reached for mine, lacing our fingers together. He brought them above my head, and then did the same with the other hand, pinning me beneath him, holding onto me for dear life.

I writhed against him, arched my back and then let go. That sweet and rhythmic brush of his pelvic bone against my clit was what did it, what pushed me over the edge into decadent oblivion.

Bright lights flashed behind my closed lids, while his teeth found my shoulder, stifling the groans of his own release. I clenched around him, tight and hot and eager for more of him, for all of him as he pulsed inside of me.

We lay there for a few moments, sweaty and panting, letting our brains find some semblance of equanimity again before we separated and faced reality.

Despite the weight of him on me, pressing my pliant and satiated body into the bed, I felt lighter and more at ease than I had in nearly two years. My head was clear, and finally, my heart felt open again.