MY MOUTH IS HANGING. I’m sure I’m the sexiest thing in the world right now; holding a chocolate Daim bar, ponytail, worn jeans and sneakers. I wish I knew what to say. I wish I could promise him that I won’t hurt him.

“Anyway,” he continues. “I’m having the best time of my life with you, and I’m glad I said yes.”

I shoot him a tearful smile. “Me too.” I don’t tell him that this has been the best week of my life, even better than my honeymoon in Paris. No one needs to know that but me.

Shortly thereafter, we explore the strangest fun house I’ve ever seen — it looks like an old nuclear plant, but it’s so much fun. “You make me feel like a kid,” I tell him.

“It’s not me.” He smirks. “It’s this place.”

Then we hop on the oldest manually operated roller coaster in the world — the guy operating it wears a funny hat. It’s kind of lame as far as coasters go, but it’s still fun.

We walk through the beautiful gardens, and I snap a few pictures of the Chinese temple and the boats floating in the pond. Every single detail of this place is exquisite. There are so many little restaurants and things to see. We walk out to check out the whimsical pirate ship restaurant, but decide not to eat there because we’re both in the mood for Asian.

We don’t explore too many wild rides because I tend to get nauseous, but Eli convinces me to try the chair swing ride. “It’s a must,” he says. My heart is beating hard as we set off, and he waves at me as we slowly lift up into the air. Turns out he was right. It’s so much fun, up high. The wind blows in my face, and the view of the park is awe-inspiring. I feel like I’m flying.

We eat at Wagamama, which I’ve never been to before, and I love it. We both order ramen bowls and fresh juices, and stuff our faces.

We venture back into the park, and Eli convinces me to go on the merry-go-round. “It’s for kids,” I argue, but he won’t hear any of it. The colorful whimsical animals beckon me, and I finally concede. He sits on one of the benches and convinces me to climb up on a giraffe. I feel utterly ridiculous, but I realize that I’ve never smiled or laughed so much in a single day. It’s bittersweet — it makes me happy, and it saddens me as well.

When darkness falls, the place becomes even more magical. The lights twinkle and dance, and the rides and sights become even more fairy tale-like. We spend the rest of the evening strolling through the park, not missing a single detail. We snap a lot of selfies, and we try out a few more games but have no luck. Eli snaps a few pictures of me in front of the elephant heads. I cuddle close to the cute red elephant and smile for the camera. And likewise, I snap a few shots of him standing next to the giraffe heads.

I buy a souvenir coffee cup — it has a picture of the hot balloons Ferris wheel ride — yet another reminder of him. It might just become my favorite mug. Every time I drink from it, I’ll remember us sitting in one of those baskets, kissing. I’ll remember the way it felt to be in his arms, to feel his lips on mine.

“What do you want to do when we get home?” he asks with a mischievous grin. We’re walking back, and it’s dark. The city is buzzing, and I’m still full of energy. Although it’s getting late, I know I won’t be tired for a while.

“You’ve had a long day. I think you should go right to bed,” he teases. “I can tuck you in.”

“Well, yeah, I could do that, or we…” I feel a blush creep up along my cheeks. “Or we could fuck like bunnies.”

He stops in his tracks. “Uh…” he’s speechless and a small laugh escapes him. I think I’ve shocked him.

I bite my lip. “What do you think?”

“Is that what we’re doing?” he asks. “Fucking?”

I swallow hard. No, it’s not.

We’re not fucking. We’re making love. I’m pretty sure we’re in love.  I’m drowning in every emotion, and I feel like he is too. We’re definitely doing more than fucking.

“It’s all we can do, Eli,” I say casually. “You know that. That was the arrangement. That’s what I promised John. One week.”

He’s quiet, and I eagerly anticipate his next words.

“One week,” he finally manages. “One week is not enough.”

“I know.”

“It might be easy for you to turn off your feelings,” he says, “and tell yourself we’re just fucking, but it feels like a lot more to me—”

“Eli,” I snap. “Don’t do this. We’re fucking, all right?! Just deal with it!”

A quick flash of anger travels across his face — it’s so quick, I almost miss it. We keep walking, but his steps are hurried, his stride long. He’s mad at me, and I feel horrible. I hope he doesn’t let this ruin the rest of our time together. He knew this all along — this is not news.

Just sex. One week.

He knew that. I don’t know why he’s acting like this is a sudden surprise, as if I’d promised him something more. I never did.

My stomach drops when he grabs my arms and swiftly drags me in a dark corner between two old buildings. It’s dark and there’s no one else around. “What are you doing?” I ask. “You scared the shit out of me.” My heart is pounding. He leads me to a secluded spot around a corner.

He presses me softly against the cold brick wall, and cups my face in his hands. I’m still holding my giant chocolate bar against my chest, and my pulse is racing.

His eyes are dark, and his breath is ragged. He smells like candy. He doesn’t say a word for the longest time, and with every passing second, my heart beats a little faster. “I thought we could fuck,” he deadpans. “It’s what we do, right?”

His words have rendered me completely speechless.

“I can take you against the wall,” he breathes into my ear. “No one can see us here. It’s what you want, right?! A good wall fuck.”

God, I want to. I really want to. Gabriella Moore would never, not in a million years. But I would. I definitely would.

He takes the Daim bar from me, and sets it on the ground next to my feet. I’m still frozen. He falls to his knees and works my fly. I can’t believe this is happening. He peels my jeans over my ass, along with my cotton panties. I let out a moan and arch my back. My head is pressed against the wall, and I stare up, right into the darkness of the night. He slides my jeans down my legs, and removes a single shoe, and peels off a single leg.

Damn, I should have worn a dress or a skirt.

He grabs the underside of my thigh and lifts one leg as he presses his hot mouth on my pussy. I almost die right there. But he doesn’t stay there long. He’s playing. He’s teasing.

He stands and towers over me again. I claw at his jaw, lowering his mouth to mine. I want all of him. I can’t get enough of his kiss. I feel the first drop of rain on my forehead as I reach for his fly. I fiddle with the button, but my hand is shaking for some reason. My pulse races as I dig into his boxers and wrap my hand around him — he’s so hot, and I can’t wait to feel his warmth inside me.

Another drop of rain. And another.

He digs a condom out of his pocket. My heart is still pounding — I’m not sure if it’s being out here in public that has set it into overdrive. John and I have never done this — sex outside, in public.

I fucking love it.

Before long, it starts pouring. The rain is cold and comes down heavy, but Eli and I couldn’t care less. His kiss tastes even sweeter in the rain. He grabs my ass tightly as he sinks into me — he’s rough and hard, but I love every second. “God… I love fucking you,” he breathes against my ear. “You can’t go back. I need to fuck you like this every day, Gabriella.”

Yes. I know exactly what he means.

He pounds harder into me. My thighs are locked around his hips, and I try to pull away from the wall because it hurts. But this feels so damn good.

“I want to hear you come,” he growls. “I want you to be loud.”

I don’t want to be loud… not here. But I feel my climax coming so hard, and I just want to get lost in it. I close my eyes when it finally hits me, and I scream into the night, into the heavy downpour.

It’s awkward post-sex. There’s no sweet holding or pillow talk — we’re in a filthy dark alley, and it’s cold and pouring. I bend down and pick up my giant chocolate bar — it’s drenched. I know that every time I look at that chocolate bar from then on, I’ll think about the wild wall sex. The kids better eat it fast, but it’s 2 kg of chocolate — I’ll definitely need to help.

We run the whole way, and as soon as we get home, I exhale, glad to be inside, and sheltered from the cold rain. Floyd is thrilled to see us, and jumps up on the both of us. We dash to the bedroom and quickly strip out of our wet clothes. I’m so wet, I’m dripping. Eli comes back with just a towel around his hips. I gawk at the lovely lines of his torso and shoulders, and that dark trail leading to his navel. He dries my hair with a huge bath towel, and wraps me up in it — I feel like a little kid. He holds me tightly in his arms. I circle my arms around his waist, and he leans down and presses his lips against mine.

We make love. Again! This time around, it’s slow and sweet. I can’t remember the last time John and I had sex twice in a row like that, or even twice in the same day. I suppose I’m making up for lost time.

We drift off to sleep, lying in bed, Floyd at our feet. “What we’re doing…” Eli says. “It’s not fucking.”