I spend all of Sunday worrying about Mal. Okay, I spend a lot of it binge-watching Futurama and texting Carrie about my mystery boy toy and how difficult he is.

And there's the gym. But my workout doesn't bring its usual satisfaction. Instead, I think of the hurt in Mal's eyes and the softness in his posture and all the ways I want to soothe him.

He arrives at exactly eleven on Monday. We make small talk about the weather, about the movies we watched, about his Mom's condition (still no word) for the drive to the first beach. He sits back as I make notes, then we have a silent drive to the second beach.

We pick up lunch silently.

We drive to the last beach silently.

It's beautiful, perfect for the shoot, but that doesn't thrill me the way it should.

Mal arranges our lunch as I scribble in my notebook. Even with the heaviness in the air, this place is paradise. Even with the waves crashing into the sand, the air feels quiet. Still. Even with wedding gear up on our left—there's a ceremony at sunset—the place feels desolate.

"It's romantic, don't you think?" I bite my lip, even as I motion to the white altar decked with big pink flowers. The chairs have turquoise bows and those same pink flowers. But Mal doesn't want to hear about weddings, not with everything changing.

His blue eyes fill with something I can't place. "It is."

I look back to my notes for some help in changing the subject. "Next weekend is our best bet. Saturday and Sunday. I think this is the beach. But we'll have limited time. There are sunset weddings on Saturday and Sunday."

His eyes stay on the altar. "It's perfect."

"Good." I push off the blanket. "Can the food wait twenty minutes?"

"I can't be held responsible for the disappearance of any sashimi."

"Too many carbs in the sushi rolls?"

His smile is more sad than anything. "Go, do your thing."

"Thanks." I move around the beach, lining up all my future shots, scribbling our shooting schedule into my notebook. This should work. It will be tight doing everything in two days, but we can make it happen. And if not, we can squeeze in a third day.

When I'm finished, I come back to the picnic blanket. Mal is sitting there, watching me with a proud smile.

"Yes?" I slide my notebook into my purse.

He pulls the plastic lids off our containers of sushi and grabs a piece of a salmon avocado roll. "You remind me of my brother."

"Baby, don't stop with the dirty talk."

He smiles. "I won't." He pops the roll in his mouth, chews, swallows, moves closer. "You have the kind of passion that's contagious."

"That's good?"

"Fucking amazing." He grabs another piece salmon avocado roll and brings it to my lips.

I take the whole thing into my mouth, chew, swallow. It's good and I'm starving. "More."

He does it with another. This time, his fingers skim my lips. I can taste the salt on his skin as much as I can taste the nutty brown rice (of course), the soft, rich salmon, the creamy avocado.

He does it again.

Again.

Until I've eaten the entire roll.

With the next, we take turns.

We take turns feeding each other until we're done with our sushi.

There's something sweet about him feeding me. Strange, but sweet.

This really is the perfect place for a picnic. The sun is high in the sky but the ocean breeze keeps the air temperate. The crystal blue water is lapping at the pristine sand gently.

I want to throw myself into the water.

Then Mal pulls me into his arms and I want to stay there forever.

Even with all the ugliness surrounding us, this is a beautiful afternoon.

But I want more than being next to Mal.

I want to do something to wipe his pain away.

I turn back to him and run my fingers through his hair. He stares back at me with those deep blue eyes of his.

God, the hurt in his eyes.

But there's something else too. His posture is softer. Easier. He isn't trying to fight his pain or put on a poker face the way he does with everyone else.

He's here with me.

And he's hurting.

This is something that hurts, but he can't take on the pain of it all the time. He needs a break.

I move closer. "You don't want to talk?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

It's fair. It's an ongoing crisis. He's powerless to stop it. Getting his mind off it will help more than anything else.

Or maybe that's a lame excuse and I'm thinking with my libido.

Either way, I'm not leaving without making sure he feels good for at least a few minutes.

I open my mouth to speak, but I fail to find the words. They aren't my strong suit.

I let my eyelids flutter closed and I press my lips to Mal's.

His kiss is hard and hungry. He doesn't waste any time. He slides his hand under my dress and rubs me over my panties.

Fuck, that feels good.

I kiss him harder.

I shift against his hand.

I forget about everything but how much I want to make him feel good.

He nips at my ear. "Take off your panties."

I have to shift off his lap to do it. "Someone might come to the wedding early. They might see."

"And?"

It's a compelling counterpoint.

I pull my panties to my ankles and kick them off.

Mal slides his arm around my waist and pulls me into a deep kiss. God, all the need in his kiss…

Right now, this is exactly what we both need.

I melt into his touch as he pushes my dress to my waist and does away with my bra. He breaks our kiss to drag his lips down my neck and chest. Then he's sucking on my nipple.

Fuck.

We're here, on the beach, where anyone could walk by.

It's a secluded spot, but it's easy to find.

We could get caught.

Someone could see.

That thought should terrify me. But it doesn't. It makes my sex clench. It makes my nipples tighten.

It gets me unzipping his jeans.

Mal groans as I cup him over his boxers. As I stroke him over his boxers.

He sucks harder. Then it's his teeth. A bite hard enough to make me yelp. But the pleasure that comes with it…

Fuck.

"Mal…" I should keep my voice down. The ocean is quiet here. The breeze too. There are no sounds of footsteps or faraway cars, but still…

I shouldn't scream his name.

I want to scream his name.

He pulls away from my body enough to look me in the eyes. "You want to be in control, baby?"

"I want to make you feel good."

There's nothing in his expression but that mix of desire and control. I don't have a better way to describe it.

The look in his eyes is commanding and satisfied at once.

He lets out a low groan as he lowers himself onto his back. "Come here and sit on my face."

I shift onto his body, like I'm about to straddle him for cowgirl and move forward.

"Facing my feet."

Oh.

Fuck.

My sex clenches. "I've never."

"You'll like it."

I nod, even though my thighs are shaking so hard I can barely hold myself up. I never even thought about sixty-nining with Adam, but the thought of giving Mal pleasure as he's giving it to me…

Fuck.

I barely manage to get myself into position, my knees planted outside his ears, my thighs against his cheeks.

"Take me into your mouth, baby, and don't stop until I come."

I groan something vaguely resembling a yes as I sink into my knees.

His lips brush against my sex.

He teases me with those soft brushes of his lips. Then with soft licks. His hands go to my hips. With a tight grip, he holds me in place, working me with those torturously slow licks.

Fuck, the pleasure spreading, pooling in my core…

I push his jeans and boxers down his thighs.

And there's Mal, hard and ready for me.

I place one hand on his hip for leverage then I bring my lips to his cock.

He shudders as I take him into my mouth.

As I flick my tongue against him.

He licks me harder.

I take him deeper.

He groans against my inner thigh.

I groan against his cock.

Every flick of his tongue makes the knot in my core tighten. The pleasure spurs me on to take him deeper.

Harder.

Fuck, he feels so good in my mouth, soft skin over hard flesh. And he tastes so fucking good, like salt and like Mal.

I suck on him as he licks me.

We bring each other to the edge.

Damn, that soft, wet tongue of his. I'm almost there.

I buck against his mouth.

He digs his nails into my hips, holding me in place, and he works me harder. Faster.

Fuck, my sex clenches. Almost. Almost.

There.

I press my thighs against his cheeks, working him harder and deeper, as I come. The orgasm spreads out through my legs, to my toes.

He keeps working me.

It's intense enough it hurts.

Fuck, that's a lot of sensation.

Then the hurt breaks through and it only feels good.

And I'm almost there again.

I press my palm against his hip bone, doing what I can to pin him in place, and I tease his tip until he has to break to groan against my inner thigh.

Then his lips are on me again and I'm taking him deeper.

And I'm almost there.

And from the way his groans are vibrating over my sex—he is too.

I suck harder. Hard enough to hurt him.

His hips buck as he thrusts into my mouth.

Then his cock is pulsing.

And my sex is clenching.

And he's spilling into my mouth, digging his nails into my skin as he comes. Once he's spilled every drop, I swallow hard and push myself up.

One more flick of his tongue and I'm there again.

This time, I scream his name as I come.

I groan and writhe and claw at his thighs.

Mal licks me through my orgasm. Damn, the second one is more intense. Fast. Hard. Short.

But fucking intense.

I shake through it.

When I'm done, he shifts our positions, bringing me onto the sand next to him. He pulls my dress back over my shoulder, pushes its skirt to my legs.

I pull up his jeans and boxers and redo his zipper and button.

He stares back at me with all this affection.

And he kisses me.

And I completely forget about everything but his body against mine.

* * *

Our afternoon together passes too quickly. We find another beach and watch the sunset. We buy ice cream—coconut milk ice cream, of course—and eat it parked on the top of a high hill, next to some twenty-million-dollar mansion.

We drive back to my place with the windows down and the radio blaring. Mal attempts, and fails to make a meal out of the food in my apartment, then we go back to that snooty seafood place.

We fuck in my bed. Twice.

We shower together.

We fall asleep together.

I wake up alone. There's a text on my cell.

Mal: I have to get to the hospital. We'll talk soon.

It's a reasonable explanation.

But I still feel alone.