When I wake up, I’m alone in Brando’s bed. Bright sunshine streams through the windows. I get up and put on more of his clothes: boxer briefs, gym shorts that I cinch in at the waist, a t-shirt that I have to tuck in because it hangs on me like a dress, and a flannel shirt because it’s a lot cooler up here in the mountains.

I go in the bathroom and brush my teeth with the spare that Brando gave me. It brings home how fast all this has happened.

Am I staying? Does he want me to? If I am, then I need to ask about going to a store and getting some supplies, but I don’t want to bring it up and sound like I’m fishing for an invitation.

Face washed, I go downstairs. A delicious smell reaches me on the way, and I can see that Brando’s in the kitchen. I’m not making much noise on the stairs — they don’t creak — but he looks over anyway.

“Hi. I thought I’d let you sleep.”

Now that I’m close enough, I can see that he doesn’t seem to have slept much at all. His face is pale, his cheeks covered in stubble as if he were too exhausted to shave. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Fine.” His tone and the way he breaks eye contact make clear he doesn’t want to talk about it. I can’t help worrying, but I don’t push.

“What are you making?” I ask after a moment of not-so-comfortable silence. “It smells delicious.”

“Spaghetti. Sauce and meatballs are done, and I’m about to start on the garlic bread.”

“Ohh, foodgasm alert.” That gets me a smile. “Can I help?”

Instead of answering, he turns to me and hooks an arm around my waist, tugging me closer. “I was short with you. I’m sorry.”

“That’s all right.”

Brando looks down at me, a half-smile playing around his face. “You’re beautiful, you know.” He touches his mouth to mine, and immediately I melt against him, my arms twining around his neck.

The kiss turns hot, and deep, and his hands tug the t-shirt loose, then burrow inside his clothing to cup my bare ass, squeezing. I groan into his mouth, and he breaks the kiss only to grab the hem of the t-shirt and flannel shirt and peel them both off me in one smooth move.

His mouth clamps over my breast while his hand goes into the shorts again, this time to cup my pussy. He finds me drenched and growls deep in his throat, the sound vibrating through my nipple, making me quiver in ecstasy.

I cling to him while his fingers work me. His mouth switches to my other breast, sucking hard. I’m bent back over his arm, my hands in his hair, holding him against me as pleasure screams through my system like a wildfire burning out of control.

When the climax hits me, I jerk in his grasp. His thumb finds my clit and his teeth graze my nipple, sending me straight into another orgasm, my whole body quaking.

Brando leans me against the wall long enough to get his shorts and boxer briefs off me, then carries me over to the dining room table. Laying me down, he frees himself, takes hold of my hips, and fills me with one hard thrust.

“Oh!” My shout echoes up to the high ceiling. He’s fucking me hard, all the muscles in his athletic body working together to claim me, brand me, pummel me into submission.

“Never get enough of you,” he grunts as he pounds into me, and his words send me over the edge into my first brutal climax, my body convulsing with the force of my release. “Fuck you forever.”

“Yes,” I gasp, barely able to breathe because he hasn’t slowed down at all and I’m already on the verge of another orgasm. “Never stop fucking me, Brando.”

“Sasha.” He goes even faster, bending over me, my legs lying flat against my body, my feet by my head, and now he’s hitting my clit with every stroke. I start coming and can’t stop, bucking against him as he plows into me, until my nails rake his back and my teeth sink into his shoulder and he finds his own long, shuddering release.

When he gets his breath back, Brando lifts me off the table, keeping our bodies joined, and eases back onto a chair. He cradles me against him, his strong arms around me, his hands stroking my back, my hair. I have never felt so cherished in my life.

After a while, his mouth finds mine. We kiss, gently, for a long time. At first it’s pure tenderness, each of us giving with no demands, but gradually it heats up, until I tighten around him.

At that, his hands find my hips and he starts to raise and lower me, very slowly. He’s in a mood to be bossy; he won’t let me set the pace, even when I start to whimper with need.

Finally, he goes faster, his hips starting to flex, drilling into me with his cock every time he brings my body down. He speeds up until he’s yanking me down hard, thrusting up to meet me, my breasts jiggling from the impact.

I know I’m close, but just as I start to reach for my clit the climax hits me and I explode, clamping around him as wave after wave of pleasure breaks over me. Moments later, he follows me over the edge.

We lean together as our breathing slows. My skin is slick with sweat; his shirt is soaked through with it. “Shower,” he says at last.

“Yeah. Did we ruin the spaghetti?”

“Nah. The sauce is on low; I hadn’t put the pasta on yet.” He kisses my forehead and I bite my tongue, literally, to keep from blurting out words I can’t say. Not yet, maybe not ever.

The mention of a shower reminds me to ask, “Do you have another deodorant? The one in the medicine cabinet is pretty much gone. I looked, but I couldn’t find one.”

He looks at me, and his face changes. Something I can’t read comes into his eyes. “What?” I say.

“You’re in school, right? You’re off for the summer?”

“Right.”

“Got a job lined up?”

I shake my head, suddenly embarrassed that I have the luxury of not working. “I was planning on volunteering with a charity for the summer.”

“That’s cool. Got one picked out?”

“Not yet. Why, do you have one in mind?”

“No. I was just thinking …” He runs his hands up and down my arms. “We have charities up here. Maybe not here here, I’m not sure, but down the hill anyway.”

My heart leaps; light sparkles through me. “You probably do.”

“I know we just met, but … I like having you around.” He gives a little laugh. “Not the most romantic speech ever. I didn’t practice this.”

“I like being around you.”

He gives me a lazy smile that curls my toes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. And, you know, I don’t have to work at a charity. I just wanted to do something useful with my time, not be sitting around on my ass. I could get some kind of job up here.”

“It so happens I know a few people around here. I could probably find someone who needed help. What’s your major, anyway?”

“Sociology.” I whisper it like it’s something dirty.

Brando cocks an eyebrow at me. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. Except it won’t equip me to follow my dad into the family business.”

“Ahh. Which you have no intention of doing, but he doesn’t know that yet.”

“Exactly. I know he loves me, but … I’m his only child, and there’s this assumption that he’s going to pass the business on to me.”

“It’s a hard thing, to feel like following your heart will disappoint someone you love.”

“It really is. I just have to hope he’ll understand when I tell him.”

I’m starting to get chilled. When I huddle closer to him, Brando pulls off his shirt and gives it to me. I pull it on, still warm from his body, and smile at him. “I should always wear your clothes.”

His eyes twinkle. “When you wear any at all,” he agrees. “So. This summer, up here?”

I nod. I should be freaking out that we’re having this conversation, but it feels right. Totally right. “Yeah.”

“Good. Let’s get that shower.”

* * *

The spaghetti is delicious. While we’re eating it, some of Brando’s girl cousins show up with an emergency delivery of clothes, shoes, and toiletries. Later, when I go with him to the restaurant again, none of the staff say anything to us, but I see a lot of smiles. Kami keeps grinning like she’s just won the lottery.

We get back to the cabin at midnight. The bags the girls brought are on the floor by the couch. I start toward them, but Brando stops me. “Leave them, babe. We can deal with it in the morning.”

I warm at the we. “Okay.”

When we go to bed, the mood is new. There’s no less heat between us, but there’s more of everything else. More feeling, more tenderness, more depth. Even when we were fucking like animals, it was never only sex; but tonight, we’re making love.

When we come, we come together, a long, shimmering climax that brings tears to my eyes. I hold Brando close, stroking his hair, before we move into our usual spooned position. I snuggle back against him, feeling safe and warm and loved.

“Good night, Sasha.”

“Good night, Brando.”

Within seconds, sleep wraps around us like a velvet blanket.

* * *

His voice wakes me. Low, guttural, speaking words I can’t understand. He gets louder, until he’s doing a sort of strangled yelling, but I still don’t know what he’s saying.

It finally registers on my sleep-addled brain that he must be dreaming. I start to turn his way, and the next instant I’m flat on my back under him.

It’s pitch dark in the bedroom, so I can’t see his face. But this time, I understand him perfectly. “I’ll fuckin’ kill you.”

His voice is ugly, vicious. When his hands slide up my torso toward my throat, I panic, batting at him, screaming his name, trying desperately to wake him. “Brando! Brando!”

He goes still, and then his weight abruptly leaves me. The lamp comes on, but he keeps moving, rolling off the bed and slamming into the bathroom.

I wait, trembling, the covers drawn up to my chin. He’s back in under thirty seconds, his expression terrible. “Brando—”

“Get out.”

I stare at him. “What?”

“You speak fuckin’ English? I said get out.”

I’m too stunned to move. I don’t recognize this man.

When I don’t obey, he stalks around the foot of the bed and gathers up my clothing, opens the bedroom door, and hurls my garments over the railing to land in the living room below. “You’re not out of here in five seconds, I’ll toss you over too.”

I don’t understand what’s going on, but I have to try. “Brando—”

“GET OUT!”

I scramble from the bed, taking the comforter with me to shield my nakedness, feeling suddenly cold and exposed. He moves aside to let me pass and I actually back from the room, frightened of the hard-eyed stranger he’s become.

I go sideways down the stairs, glancing up to make sure he’s not following. At the bottom I drop the comforter and drag my clothes on as fast as I can with shaking hands.

My purse lands with a thud in front of me, followed by his car keys. “Take the SUV. I’ll send someone to pick it up.”

The bedroom door slams shut behind him, so hard that the walls shake. I stare at the keys, but don’t pick them up. Grabbing my purse, I go to the front door.

The heavy crossbar he put over it my first night here is up, held in place by some mechanism I can’t decipher. He hasn’t bothered with it since.

It strikes me as some terrible metaphor for what’s happened, but I can’t make my brain work to figure it out. Slipping out onto the front porch, I leave the door ajar a crack while I check my cell phone to see if it has a signal. I’d rather take a cab, no matter how much it costs.

But there’s no cell service out here in the woods. And even if there were, I realize I don’t know his address. He said I could text it to my friends, that first night, but I never did. Never asked. By the time we got here, I was too caught up in him to even think of it.

Creeping inside, I get the keys, closing the door as quietly as I can when I’m back on the porch. I retrace the route to the restaurant, and once I’m there I check my cell again and find a signal.

I want to call Emily, but I can’t. I’m too ashamed.

The cab arrives fifteen minutes later. I leave the SUV’s keys under the mat.