CHAPTER SEVEN

I DREAD THE NEXT MORNING. In fact, I try to sleep through it, hoping that Chandler will just leave me alone until he needs me again. I’m not that lucky. Someone knocks on my door in the morning. I think about telling them to go away before I remind myself that I’m here for a job. Then I force myself out of bed and open the door to Susan’s deadpan expression.

“Aren’t you a bucket of cheer this morning.” I glare at her.

“Breakfast is ready,” she tells me before taking her leave. I give her backside the finger as she’s walking away.

I take my time changing, hoping that Chandler will eat without me and spare me his presence. When I arrive in the dining room, he’s sitting at the table with an empty plate in front of him.

“Good morning,” he says, following me with his eyes.

“Morning.” I purposely leave out the good part. There’s nothing good about being here. Not anymore.

I pick up my fork and knife, trying to figure out how to attack the eggs benedict laid before me.

“Emma, we need to talk.” His voice is all seriousness.

“What about?” I try to pretend like I don’t care.

“Last night.” He leans back.

“What about last night?” I cut a too-large bite of egg and English muffin. If he’s going to try to hold a conversation with me, then I’m going to eat as quickly as I can and retreat to...wherever he’s not.

“It’s not what you think.”

My fuse reaches its end. I set my fork down and meet his gaze. If looks could kill, I would have murdered him in cold blood three times over already. “Oh really, Chandler? What do you think I think? Please, by all means, enlighten me.”

“Calm down.” He furrows his brow as if I’m the one in the wrong, which only pisses me off more. “That wasn’t Susan in that video.”

“It wasn’t? Well it sure as hell looked like her.” I keep my voice low. A low yell. Is there such a thing?

“It was her twin sister, my ex-fiance,” Chandler explains, looking out the window. “She died two years ago during childbirth. Our son didn’t make it either.”

I want to pity him, but I can’t because I still don’t understand what’s going on.

“I don’t remember reading anything about you having a fiance.”

“We were very private about it. She didn’t want to be in the limelight because I’m famous. We met at an art gallery—”

“Spare me the sentimental story.” I hold my hand up to cut him off. “Why did you show me that video? Why did you make me think that...”

“That I don’t care about you? That I just used you?” His words strike at my heart, hurting far more than I thought they could.

“You don’t care about me. You did use me,” I clarify.

“That’s not true.” He reaches across the table to take my hand, but I pull it away from him. When he realizes that I’m disgusted by him, he slumps back with a sigh. “You said that my paintings are full of emotion. I needed to capture a certain emotion for that specific piece, and the best way to do it was by—”

“Torturing me.” I rake my eyes across his face, searching for some sign of remorse.

“You’ll understand when you see the exhibit.” He insists. “Tell me, how did watching that video make you feel?”

I think for half a second before I respond. “It made me want to cut your dick off.”

He chuckles. “My dick would rather be inside of you than cut off, but okay. And what else did you feel?”

“Betrayed.” I can’t even look at him. “It made me feel like you betrayed my trust.”

“And?”

I have a feeling I know what he wants, but I can’t force myself to say it. “Chandler, is there anyone else in your life? Like another woman.”

He smiles brilliantly, and I hate myself for wanting to forgive him. A lot hinges on this answer, though. “No,” he tells me. “There’s no one else. Just you.” The way he says ‘just you’ ignites something inside of me that I was certain had died when I saw that video. How can an ember stay alive when you throw freezing cold water on a fire? He drops his gaze to the table, picking at a spec of food stuck to it. “Emma, I want to thank you for sticking by me throughout this project. I know it hasn’t been easy. There are only two more images I need to capture. I promise they won’t be as hard as what you’ve already endured. Today will be a fun day.” Chandler nods to himself.

“What do you have planned for today?” I ask him suspiciously.

“You’ll see.” He smirks at me mischievously before his expression goes serious again. “Do you think you can be intimate with me again, now knowing that I’m yours and yours alone?”

My mouth falls agape. Did he really just say that? More importantly, does he mean it?

“Mine and mine alone, huh?” I shift in my seat.

“I am right now.”

Ouch. He makes no promises for the future. Still, knowing that I’m not sharing him—that I haven’t been sharing him—puts my mind at ease.

“I think I can go a few more rounds with you,” I confess, feeling my body craving him the more time we spend together.

“Good. Then I’ll let you finish eating and meet you out on the deck. I certainly can’t have you getting beefier than me.” He winks at me before standing.

My cheeks heat up as I realize he did hear me yesterday when I challenged him. I guess that means he also heard me call him a sick fuck in my room yesterday. Hopefully, he’ll spare me bringing that up.

“See you outside,” I reply before stuffing the bite of egg and ham and English muffin into my mouth. We’ve been talking for so long that it’s gotten cold.

I spend the rest of breakfast so happy that I’m practically wiggling. It’s odd how quickly things can change. In just the span of one conversation, I went from wanting to kill Chandler to loving him again. Is this really going to be okay? I’m starting to think it might have been better if I had stayed mad at him. At least, it wouldn’t hurt so badly when I have to leave.

I join him on the deck, and the sexual tension is as thick as ever. We workout and talk and laugh. He picks me up, claiming to be using my body weight for arm exercises. It’s too flirty and strangely romantic, especially when he looks at me affectionately with those dreamy chocolate eyes of his. I can’t wait to have my lips on his and my hands on his body again, knowing it’s only a matter of time.

Even though I’m enjoying hanging out with Chandler, our workout can’t be over soon enough. I take a bath with glee, looking forward to whatever is to come. It’s like we’ve just had a lover’s quarrel and are moving towards the makeup sex phase.

I wish he had given me some clue about what we’re doing today, but at least I know it involves taking our clothes off, so again I wear as little as possible. After today, I will have exhausted my stash of dresses, so he’ll have more articles of clothing to remove from me. Or I’ll have more to remove from myself, depending on his mood.

I wait in my room for Chandler to come retrieve me, feeling unusually nervous but every bit as excited. It’s strange how one day apart can make you miss someone’s touch so much. Every cell in my body is revved for his arrival.

He knocks on the door, and I practically leap to my feet, smiling broadly as I open it to him. His face lights up the second he sees my expression.

“Are you ready?” He takes my hand in his, and I blush.

“I’m ready.” I nod, closing the door behind us and walking with him down the hall hand-in-hand.

He’s dressed down in a pair of sweatpants. No shoes again, which probably means he’s going to want us to shed clothes before we enter the room. Even though holding hands with him gives me butterflies, I kind of wish I was walking behind him so I could see the cute dimples above his ass. I’ll get to see plenty of that, though, when he finishes undressing soon. A mischievous grin spreads my lips as I predict that he’s not wearing underwear. I wonder if he normally does in day-to-day life. It’s been 50/50 since we’ve been here.

He stops in front of a door and lets go of my hand to pull his keycard from his pocket. He swipes the card and then immediately opens the door for me, stepping aside so that I can enter the room. The scents of fruit and sugar waft out, confusing my senses until I realize what I’m looking at. Inside the room are tables filled with food. I give Chandler a queer look before apprehensively stepping up to one of them. There are bowls of cherries and strawberries, assorted cupcakes on platters and various cakes. There are bottles of whipped cream and flavored syrups. And artistically spread out amongst them are other things—things that make my cheeks heat up. Candy underwear, gummy bras, edible condoms, flavored lube. It doesn’t take me long to realize that everything in this room that’s not furniture is edible.

I turn from the table, observing my surroundings. The walls and ceiling are all white. The floor is white tile. Aside from the tables, the only furniture in the room is a white pallet on the floor. It can’t even really be called a bed. More like a thin mattress dressed in white sheets with two white pillows atop it.

“Champagne?” Chandler asks, pouring us each a glass before I have a chance to respond.

I lean back against the table, kind of wanting to eat a cupcake but not daring to mess up his display. “I’m not really sure what all this is yet.”

“It’s a fun time,” he tells me with a smile. “I put your outfit at the end of the table.”

I glance down at the tasteless pink candy bra and underwear he’s referring to. “Where’s yours?” I tease, picking up the box.

He cocks his head to the side and gives me a look that clearly states he doesn’t plan on wearing anything so silly.

“You’re no fun.” I wrinkle my nose at him.

“We’ll see.” He brings me my glass of champagne and then stands there watching me lecherously while I change into the hard candy ensemble. Once I’m done, he hands me my glass and lifts his in cheers. “To our last fun evening together.”

“To our...” the words fade from my lips with my smile, and I stop before our glasses clink. “Wait, what do you mean?”

“It’s your last night here. We’ll spend part of tomorrow together, and then I’ll be sending you home.”

“Oh.” I avert my eyes, feeling a wave of depression sweeping over me. Did a week really go by so quickly?

“Hey.” Chandler reaches up to caress my cheek, drawing my attention back to him. “I won’t have any of that. Let’s have fun today. Okay? I need you here with me.” His expression is serious, which means that me being upset will only disrupt whatever he needs to capture for his art. I have to pull myself together. I knew when I came here that I couldn’t stay forever. Then again, I hadn’t expected to be intimate with Chandler. And I definitely hadn’t expected to fall in love with him. When I leave tomorrow, my heart is going to shatter into a million pieces.

“Be here...for me,” he says, probably sensing that I’m fading further away from him.

“For you.” I press his hand to my cheek and turn to kiss his palm.

“You don’t have to drink the champagne if you don’t want to.” He sets his glass down, and it’s oddly comforting, like he’s nullifying the toast. I’m glad because I don’t want to toast to that. I don’t want to pretend to be happy that I’m about to lose one of the most amazing men I’ve ever met. “Now, seduce me.” He gives me a wolfish grin, nodding towards the bed.

The mood shifts in an instant. I definitely want to do something that will make him remember me forever.

I turn from him to walk to the bed, taking long, measured strides, placing one foot in front of the other like a cat. It’s a little hard to lower myself sexily when the bed is so low to the floor, but I do the best I can, folding down onto my back and splaying my legs. I run my hands over my body, feeling the candy beads rolling beneath my fingertips. When I run out of ideas, I motion with my finger for Chandler to come to me.

He plays the sexy card far better than I do, stalking up to me like a predator. The darkness in his eyes makes me shiver to my core. He kneels on the bed, the outline of his cock clearly visible as blood pools below to make him hard. My mouth waters at the sight of his powerful body, all hard muscles and raw energy. I come up onto my knees to slide my hand behind his neck, straining to kiss him. His tongue parts my lips, and I open for him, longing to taste him. There’s a hint of champagne on his breath, which is strange since I never saw him take a drink. Briefly, I wonder if he was drinking before he came into the room with me, but ultimately decide that it doesn’t matter.

My other hand slips between his legs, cupping the steel there and lazily stroking him over his pants. His mouth finds my neck, kissing a rough path to the straps of my bra. There’s a slight tug on it, and then I hear a crunching sound. Chunks of candy fall down my body. Chandler straightens, his expression twisted unpleasantly.

“Oh, that’s horrible.” He finishes chewing the candy and swallows. I can’t help but giggle.

“Is it?” I look down at the place where he bit off some of the candy. Other pieces have fallen to fill the gap.

“It tastes like strawberry chalk.” He glances back at the table, and I know he wants his champagne to wash the taste away. Thankfully, willpower keeps him from tearing himself away from me.

“So I’m guessing I don’t have to worry about you eating my underwear off.” I wiggle my butt.

“Maybe we should switch you into the gummy underwear.” His expression suggests skepticism of those tasting any better.

“Maybe we shouldn’t.” I really don’t want to be sticky. “Maybe I should just take these off.” I slip my fingers into the waistband of my candy underwear and teasingly pull them down over my hips.

“Maybe we should do whipped cream instead?” He raises an eyebrow.

“You’re bound and determined to get me dirty today, aren’t you?” I pout.

“That I am.” He stands finally, and I frown from the loss of him. I watch as Chandler goes over to the table and loads his arms up with items before coming back to me.

“What did you get?” I scoot to the edge of the mattress to get a good look.

Chandler tries to shield it all with his hands. “You’ll see it all when I use it all.”

“Well, you brought a lot.” I sit back on the heels of my palms. He didn’t do well hiding it. I already saw the strawberries and whipped cream.

“Take off the bra.” He picks up the bottle of whipped cream and gives it a good shake.

I do as I’m told, thinking that this is going to be cold. I’m not wrong. When he sprays the whipped cream onto my chest, my nipples turn to diamonds. Chandler’s mouth defrosts them a bit, but they still stay hard when he’s sucking on them. I try to ignore the stickiness, focusing on the pleasure that his tongue and lips give me. My hand stays between his legs, my fingers enjoying the firmness of him beneath them. I want more, though. I want to feel his skin. And so I start to peel off his pants.

Chandler smirks at me, letting my nipple slip from his mouth to straighten himself so that I can pull his pants down over his hips and expose that glorious cock of his. It springs forth at an upward arch, and I can’t resist the urge to put my lips on him. He lies back on the bed as I crawl over him, reaching over to offer me two packages. “Blowjob mints or a flavored condom?”

“Blowjob mints,” I reply quickly, knowing that I’d rather taste him instead of plastic.

He pops open the container and offers me two of the little pink mints. I toss them into my mouth, sucking on them for a moment before making a face.

“Horrible?” he asks.

“They’re probably about the same as that candy bra.” Chalky and not very good.

“They’re supposed to numb your throat a bit,” he tells me matter-of-factly.

“Because I can’t take your big dick without them?” I tease before gripping him at the base and impaling myself on him.

He groans, tossing his head back. “I certainly never said that.”

“Mhm,” I mumble around his girth.

Even with the mints, which I don’t feel make a damn bit of difference, I avoid taking him to the back of my throat. I’d much rather suck on his tip and stroke his length with my hand.

Chandler closes his eyes and relaxes while I blow him. It’s not long before he’s ready to switch things up, putting me on my back and sinking down between my legs. He pulls the crotch of my candy underwear aside, looking annoyed with it. I’m really glad I shaved or else my hairs would have caught between the beads. Not to mention the embarrassment of them sticking out between the candies. Not sexy at all.

“Would you have preferred the gummy underwear?” I smirk at him.

“Not sure.” He balls his fist around the crotch of the panties and gives them a good tug. Beads of candy fly everywhere as the strings holding them together snap. I giggle as they roll in various directions as if trying to escape us.

“Much less sexy than you envisioned?” I wrinkle my nose at him.

“I honestly never envisioned it being sexy,” he confesses.

“Then why do it?”

“For the art.” He grins at me before licking up the length of my slit. I let out a shuddering moan, relaxing back against the bed. “Mmm, your pussy is so sweet.” His tongue tunnels into me, lapping at my wetness before sliding up to tease at my clit. “Want to try something different?” He gives me a mischievous smirk.

“Sure. I’m always up for different.” I wonder what he has in mind.

He takes a strawberry from the plate he brought over, and I squirm slightly as he pushes it between my folds. It feels so wrong, and I can’t help but blush as I figure out what he’s about to do. Chandler looks at me over my mound as his mouth dips between my legs. I feel a slight pressure and then hear the crunch of his teeth biting into the strawberry. It’s so damn dirty but he looks so sexy while he’s doing it. If I were the artist, it would be yet another moment between us that I’d want immortalized. That look in his eyes sears my very soul.

“That was way hotter than I expected it would be.” I avert my gaze, feeling like I might maul him if I stare at him a moment longer.

He pulls the remaining strawberry from me and licks me clean. “It tastes exquisite with you.” Then his mouth really gets to work. I whimper as he applies deep pressure to my clit, his tongue massaging my cleft and pushing me closer to climax. It’s not long before I’m squirming on his face, my body about to give way. He slides his hands beneath me, gripping my ass and bearing down on my pussy. I come so hard that I have to clutch onto the sheets to stabilize myself.

“Oh fuck, Chandler.” I exhale a deep breath I didn’t even know I had been holding.

He doesn’t give me a moment to recover, pressing two fingers into me to fight against the contractions. He probes them, curling them slightly to rub across my G-spot. It feels like he’s drawing out the orgasm, making it way longer than it should be. His tongue slicks across my sensitive clit. I think it will be too much, but it’s not. Soothing almost, though my thighs quiver from the intensity of everything.

When his mouth finally leaves my pussy, I sit up and wrap my hand around the back of his neck, drawing him to me for a long series of kisses. I must admit that the mixed flavor of myself and the strawberry lingering on his tongue isn’t half bad. I kiss Chandler until I’m breathless. Then I crawl onto all fours, giving him a come hither look over my shoulder.

He queues in immediately, coming up onto his knees and stroking his cock as he lines himself up behind me. I purr as I feel him rub his glans between my folds. It’s a gentle tease, like a pendulum swinging back and forth before it stops at the center.

He wraps his hands around my waist, pushing balls deep into me in one fluid motion. I moan loudly as his cock tunnels inside of me to fill me up. The feeling is exquisite. Everything is complete when we’re together like this.

I close my eyes while he starts to thrust, drowning in the pleasure of being so connected to him. He places his palm on the small of my back and fists the other into my hair, though he barely uses it for leverage. The small bite of pain at my scalp is even more erotic. I love that he’s not scared to do what he wants—the sign of a confident man.

Maybe that’s why I find him so sexy. He knows what he wants. He goes for it. He gets exactly what he wants every time. Maybe I want him so much because I want to be like him someday. He inspires me in so many ways. How could I not have fallen in love with him?

Thinking about it makes my heart hurt. Even though he’s giving me unimaginable pleasure, there’s still that thought at the back of my mind that this is the last time. For that reason, I should be savoring it even more, laser focusing on enjoying this to the fullest. But there’s an empty feeling inside of me...as if he’s already starting to slip away, and I don’t like it one bit.

“Chandler, I...” I love you is what I begin to say. Then sense takes over me, and I stop. Nothing could destroy the moment more than if I say it and he doesn’t say it back. Worse, if he doesn’t feel the same way and things become awkward. So I just let the words contort into a moan, never reaching a literate end.

He slows down, gazing at me as he slides his cock in and out of my wetness. My pussy contracts around him, hugging him, wanting to draw him back in. I need this with him. I need this now more than I ever have. Yes, I can focus now. I will burn every moment of this time with him into my memory because that’s the only way I’ll be able to keep him.

Chandler rolls me over onto my side, his cock never leaving me. He continues thrusting, and I try to concentrate on that spot between my legs instead of everything I’m feeling. It’s a battle, if I’m being honest with myself. There’s a coldness to not being able to look at him, a disconnect that I haven’t felt since the first time we were together. But I know I’m the only one who is feeling it because he’s not acting any differently. To redirect my attention, I rub my clit, needing to climax.

I move his hand from my waist to my breast, urging him to squeeze, desperately trying to reach that place where my mind empties of everything but the pleasure I’m feeling. He cups my breast, giving my nipple a quick teasing pinch before his hand slips back down to my waist, making me feel denied. I wonder if he knows that he’s torturing me.

“Make me come,” I beg.

“Not yet,” he says breathily behind me.

“Why not?” I pout.

“You’ll come when I say you can.”

I inhale deeply and bite my bottom lip. Even his words turn me on. Why am I having such a hard time staying with him?

I close my legs, hugging them. The pressure of Chandler’s dick inside of me intensifies. Nothing has ever felt better than this. Will anyone else ever be able to sexually fulfill me like he has? I know he’s my first, so I have nothing to compare him to, but I highly doubt that anyone else will be able to live up to what we’ve done together here.

Chandler finally takes a break, his cock falling out of me as he pulls me into his arms, his mouth crashing on top of mine. I swoon from his powerful embrace, kissing him with all the love I feel inside. I never knew that a kiss could fulfill me and hurt me at the same time, but it does both, and I just can’t stop kissing him.

“Can we stay like this forever?” my voice quivers from the pain I feel inside.

“Not forever,” he whispers, pressing his forehead against mine.

His words are crushing, reminding me that this is just sex to him. Just art. That my feelings are one-sided. If he loved me, he would have humored me with a more romantic response.

“Lie down.” I put my palm on his chest to guide him back. I want on top, not because I particularly want to ride him but because I want to see his face while we’re having sex and I’m not sure that will happen unless I’m in control.

He does as he’s told, getting comfortable on the bed before I crawl over him. I take him into me and immediately start bouncing on his dick, leaning back to feel his tip rubbing across my G-spot with every thrust. He keeps his eyes closed as if he’s bound and determined to deny me the one thing I need from him right now. And I keep my gaze locked on his face, waiting for that connection, wanting to yell at him to look at me.

I moan loudly to get his attention, way louder than the pleasure I’m actually feeling. He opens his eyes for a split second, more to make sure I’m okay than anything else, but then he closes them again. So I give up, using him as the means to an end. That’s all we are to each other after all. I’m just his model. And he’s just my fuck toy. I have to see us that way if I’m ever going to get through this without crying...because I’m already so damn close. Everything inside of me hurts. The only thing keeping the tears at bay is what little focus I still have on my pleasure. Maybe if I do cry, he’ll write it off as the sex just being that good. I’ll take any excuse right now not for him to think that I’m completely falling apart.

My thighs burn from the effort of staying on top of him as long as I physically can. When Chandler feels me starting to slow down, he cups my ass to help me, taking some of the weight off. It’s not long before I’m spent and forced to go down onto my knees, still refusing to get off of him.

He reaches up and gropes my breasts, finally opening his eyes. I place my hands on top of his, writhing as I drown in the connection I’ve been yearning for. The way he’s looking at me is so sensual.

When his hands leave my body, I touch myself, wanting to give him a show—wanting to keep him engaged. He stays with me this time, and I give him my all.

“Don’t stop touching me,” I beg as I rotate my hips to feel him in every part of me.

“Oh yeah,” he groans softly, his palms coming back to cup me again, my nipples slipping between his fingertips.

I grind down with him all the way inside of me, wanting to feel him as deep as he can go. His hands fall to my waist, clamping on as he presses up in time with me. I lean forward, crushing my clit against him, feeling my orgasm coming on. It’s exactly what I need right now, and there’s no way I’ll allow him to stop me.

I stare into his eyes as I writhe on him, bending to kiss him when I know I’m at my peak. One last thrust and my body burns from climax. Everything around us disappears from the feel of his lips on mine and his cock spreading my pussy. He curses against my mouth, and I feel him swell. I know there’s no barrier between us, but I don’t care. I take him all into me, moving on top of him to draw out his pleasure. Why I stopped caring about my own, I don’t know.

That’s a lie. I do know. It’s because I love him. Because I want him to enjoy this just as much, if not more, as I am. I want to show him that I love him, and if I can’t say the words, then I can at least show him with my actions.

“Jesus fuck, Emma.” Chandler’s chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, his dick still swelling and spurting inside of me. It’s like his entire body is contracting. I’ve never seen him come so hard before.

“Mmm. It feels so good,” I purr, resting against his chest.

Once both of our bodies settle, he strokes my hair. It feels incredibly soothing, but I know it won’t last. Soon, he’ll push me away and stand to get dressed, and I’ll be left in this room alone. But on the plus side, at least I can eat my feelings, I think as I glance over at all of the cupcakes. I’m so going to eat about ten of those.

I listen to the sound of his heartbeat as it begins to slow. I feel like it’s counting down to when he kicks me out. I begin to count the beats, taking a wild guess that I won’t even make it to two minutes before he’s ready to leave.

Sixty seconds. One hundred and twenty seconds. The beats tick on. I lose count after three minutes and start over. Two more minutes, and I stop counting. My eyes are growing heavy. My body is exhausted, and his fingers strumming through my hair is just way too soothing.

“Would you like to take a shower with me?” Chandler asks, rousing me from my half asleep state.

“A shower would be lovely,” I reply, hiding my shock that I’m not going to have to spend the next several minutes dressing alone and contemplating my feelings.

I stand, and Chandler takes me by the hand and leads me to his bedroom, then to the master bathroom. It feels too intimate. More intimate than what we just did together. Especially when he soaps me up and washes my hair and lavishes affection upon me under the hot spray of the showerhead. His lips are on me. His hands. It’s almost better than all the sex we’ve had so far because I feel things from him. Everything seems genuine—like he actually wants to be with me.

We stare at one another like star-crossed lovers. Every time our eyes meet, something deep within my soul stirs. Every time he touches me, my body is renewed with sexual energy. We kiss until we’re breathless, and then he holds me like he never wants to let me go, our slippery bodies pressed together. It’s the best thing ever.

But all good things must come to an end. We eventually turn pruney under the water and are forced to get out. To be honest, I don’t know how we didn’t use up all the hot water, because we must have been in the shower for at least an hour. Chandler towels my hair off. Then he goes two steps further, blow dries it and brushes it out. I giggle at his reflection in the mirror, and his easy smile breaks my heart. I try to wipe the first tear away as it cascades down my cheek, pretending that an eyelash fell into my eye. Then I hold myself together until we part ways until dinner, and when I’m finally alone in my room, I completely fall apart.

Why is he being so wonderful to me today? Does he know that he’s only making things worse? If he didn’t before, then he’ll know when he watches the video of me in my room, sprawled across my bed sobbing like an infant into my pillow. All of these tears are for him. Every single one of them.

I cry until I have no energy left. Then I fall asleep until a knock on the door wakes me several hours later. It’s dinner, I realize when I look at the clock.

I pull myself out of bed and quickly get dressed. A glance in the mirror reveals puffy eyes. Sleep did little to revitalize my face. I rub some concealer around my eyes, pull my hair back into a ponytail and head to the dining room.

Chandler is waiting for me with a smile. He looks breathtakingly handsome in a tuxedo. It’s the first time I’ve seen him dressed up since I came here. It makes me want to clear the dinner table and fuck him on top of it. My body is desperate for his touch. My lips, needy for his kiss. My heart yearns to be by his side for all eternity. All of these things I can’t have. The ones I could are in the past. The one I want the most is too far out of reach.

“I feel underdressed,” I say with a forced smile as I slip into the seat across from him. I’m wearing a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. He looks ready to go to a fancy ball, and my attire is more appropriate for the beach.

“It’s surf and turf night.” He gestures to the plates that Susan is placing before us. There appears to be a filet mignon and a lobster tail on each one with a side of asparagus and mashed potatoes and gravy.

“Do you always wear a tux on surf and turf night?” I smirk, feeling myself relax. It’s so easy to talk to him. So easy to joke with him. Part of me wishes I didn’t feel like we’re so damn compatible.

“I’m eccentric.” His eyes widen for effect, and I can’t help but giggle.

“Well, sorry I didn’t pack my ball gown. I left all of my princess dresses back at the castle.” I thumb behind me, though I have no idea what direction home is in.

“You still look like a princess to me.” His expression softens, and I feel genuine affection behind his words.

I blush, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear that doesn’t even exist. I can feel the tears coming to my eyes again, and I have to look away—at anything but him. Don’t cry, Emma. Don’t cry.

I manage to hold myself together by not engaging him in any more conversation. He tries to make small talk, asking me how the food is and how I’ve enjoyed my stay. The food is delicious as always, and my stay has been incredible, though taxing at times. Whenever he can get a sweet word in, he does, and it only hurts me further. Finally, I can’t take it anymore.

“What happens after this?” My treacherous mouth asks the question that I know I won’t like the answer to.

“After this?” He seems startled. “After this, I’ll compile all the images from our time together—”

“That’s not what I meant,” I cut him off, staring at him intently.

He gets my meaning instantly. No more needs to be said. When you can communicate with someone without words, that’s when you really know you have a deeper connection, I think with sad longing.

“What do you want to happen after this, Emma?”

“I...” I stutter. Again I feel the need to tell him I love him. I refuse to look like a fool, though. “I want to stay in contact with you.” I surrender to the reality that that’s the best I can hope for.

“Then we’ll stay in contact,” he says with a smile, and that’s the end of the conversation.

I return to my room with a hollow pit in my stomach, hating myself for not having said more. It felt like the last real chance I had to tell him my feelings. There’s no way to know how he would have reacted, though. And if he would have laughed or rejected me, it would have broken my heart, maybe more than leaving him will. I’d rather hold onto my pride and leave here with my head held high.

For the first time ever, when I lie down to sleep, I pray for that strange dream where Chandler comes into my room and takes advantage of me. Maybe I should have asked him for sleeping medicine. Is it too late? I glance over at the clock. It’s a little after 11 PM. I’ve already been tossing and turning for a while. I wonder if he’s asleep.

I stare at the door to Chandler’s bedroom, wishing I had the nerve to open it and climb into bed with him. What would he do, I wonder? Would he be angry? Would he kick me out? I’d like to think not. I imagine that he would lift up the covers so that I can crawl under them with him. I picture him caressing my face and drawing me to him for a kiss. Then I envision other things, naughty things that make me want to touch myself.

Oh, what the hell. Let’s end this the same way we started it.

I’ve done enough things naked on camera this week to be far less embarrassed about my body. I kick the covers off, disrobe and slip my hand between my legs. My other hand moves to grope my breast, pinching and tugging on my nipple. I work my fingers in tight circles, massaging out my pleasure as I moan Chandler’s name into the darkness.