AVA

I can’t believe this is real.

As he lies on top of me, breathing hard, groaning like a bear, I’m swept away by everything I’m feeling. It’s like a dream. Like a made-up fantasy.

But it’s totally real. And it’s totally perfect.

I’m not a virgin anymore. Finally I know what this body is for, and it feels brand-new. I’ve never had a man give me real orgasms before. The ones I achieved by myself were nothing like this. I’ve heard people say “toe-curling orgasm” before but thought it was an exaggeration.

Yet here I am, with my toes actually curled. My body is still having little mini-orgasms as I think about it.

For a long time we lay together, watching the moonlight reflections on the ceiling, feeling bliss seep through our pores.

“You should probably stay for the whole summer,” he finally says, his voice rumbling and low.

“Oh you’re funny,” I smile.

He pushes himself up on his elbow, taking my hand in his and kissing my fingers playfully.

“No, I’m serious,” he insists. “You really could. Why not?”

I search his face. Is he really serious? It’s hard to tell.

“Because my boss would kill me,” I tease, trying to figure out what he really means.

“Oh that guy,” he grins. “I hear he’s a real tyrant.”

“An absolute beast,” I agree.

Silence falls between us again. The sound of the ocean is like a remote heartbeat. It’s so soothing I could fall right to sleep.

The next morning, I wake in his arms, the little spoon. Just for a brief moment, I’m amazed at how easily we have fit together. I love having his strong body around mine, wrapping me almost completely. I love all the new feelings he’s inspired deep within me. I feel like I’m just waking up, for real.

I know that we should be doing something serious, like maybe touring his companies, looking for that job he mentioned, but I just can’t get enough of him. The day stretches out with some delicious food, a walk on the beach. He holds my hand as we retrace my steps toward the town. It really seems like he hasn’t made this walk before, and he gets a look on his face of concentration and wonder every few steps.

He seems to see everything: the different birds, the subtle change in the waves that indicate a sandbar maybe a hundred feet from shore, a quick change in temperature. He even points out a rustling in the underbrush on the other side of the beach, and tells me he just saw a bobcat. For real. An actual bobcat.

I’m sure he is telling the truth, but I didn’t even notice. Must be his military skills at work.

When we get back to the house, we don’t even make it back to the bedroom. My skin welcomes his touch, turning instantly back on like a neon light. We fall to the floor in the middle of the living room, tearing each other’s clothes off, desperate to reconnect.

The next day, everything is a little bit easier. I wake in his arms again, this time without much surprise. It feels more natural. More of an expectation, like this is where I belong.

I could get used to this, I think to myself, then push the thought aside. I’m definitely not going to get used to this.

But my body almost is. I feared sex -- slightly uncomfortable, awkward, and speckled with moments of nervousness or fear. But my mounting desire overwhelmed any apprehension that I had. I had to have him, any way I could.

As I’m getting accustomed to it, everything gets easier. It’s like learning to ride a bike, learning to drive my body. Learning to appreciate all the striking beauty of his long limbs, his thick muscles. It’s almost like being drunk, like being drugged. I can only stand to be away from him for a few minutes at a time before I’m starving all over again, eager to get my hands on him.

But by the end of the week, I get the feeling we’re not doing everything we’re supposed to be doing. I’m sure those looks he keeps giving his cell phone are about work he’s not doing, because most of what he’s doing... is me. And we haven’t even left the mansion. None of that “tour” has actually happened. We’ve just been in a fantasy, a bubble. A really sexy bubble, but still.

As we lay under the hot sun on twin cedar lounge chairs, I feel that I need to say something. I don’t want to say it, but I have to. It’s nagging at me, and now I can’t avoid it.

“This has really been wonderful,” I start.

He groans immediately. I push myself up on my elbow and squint at him, shading my eyes with my other hand. His body glistens in the sunlight, shiny with sweat. My mouth starts to water as I imagine licking that salty musk from his broad chest.

“Why are you groaning?” I ask him.

“Let’s just try to enjoy ourselves,” he sighs.

I scowl, slightly irritated. “Who says I’m not enjoying it?”

“You just did,” he shrugs, keeping his eyes closed. “But I’m perfectly happy where we are. Can’t we just stay like this?”

“Don’t you have work to do? Come to think of it, don’t you have work for me to do?”

“Well I have a job for you, if that’s what you mean,” he grins, taking at my hand and looking pointedly toward his bulging trunks.

“I mean it, Ethan,” I insist. Reluctantly, I tug my hand back. He opens one eye and squints at me.

“Okay,” he starts slowly. “Fair enough. So what do you want to do?”

I hold my breath for a moment. What do I want to do? That’s a good question. I’m antsy, eager. I feel like there is more to be done. But what, exactly, do I want?

“Well, we can’t stay here forever, can we?” I venture, knowing that’s not the most courageous thing I’ve ever said.

“Of course we can,” he counters. “I can have everything delivered to us here. Anything you want. We never have to go anywhere.”

“Never? Are you really offering me a forever kind of situation, Ethan?”

He sighs, not answering. I watch his lips press together tightly. Suddenly, I sort of see him the way everyone else sees him. Over the last few days, he has seemed so tender, so willing to connect with me, but then again, that’s probably all part of the Prince Charming act.

“Ethan?”

“What?” he answers. I hear the chill in his voice.

“You’re not really suggesting that we stay here, are you,” I say, and it’s not a question. It’s a statement. I know the answer.

“Ava, I really think you’re overthinking it.”

I sit up in my chair with my back to the sun so I can see him more clearly.

“I’m not overthinking it,” I protest. “You’re not saying that we should stay here, Ethan. You are just giving me one of your smooth billionaire lines, right?”

“I’m just lying in the sun, Ava,” he sighs impatiently, like I’m an annoying little kid all over again.

“Because you’re not really saying that we are a thing, right? You’re not saying you’re going to send out a press release and declare that I’m your girlfriend, right?”

There, I said it. It’s sort of a relief, now that I hear the words. I know this is true. I know I’ve been staying here for the better part of a week, inside of a fantasy. This is not real life. Real life is somewhere else, and we have just been pretending.

“No,” he finally says.

I shake my head. It’s a simple word, but somehow it’s not enough.

“No, what?” I persist.

“No, I’m not sending out a press release or anything,” he shakes his head. His eyes open finally and he looks at me with a mixture of irritation, sadness, resolve. Strangely, he feels much farther away from me than eighteen inches, even though I can measure the actual distance with my eyes. “We’re just hanging out, Ava. Isn’t that enough? Haven’t we been having a great time?”

I tip my head to the side, staring at him. Yeah, I knew this was coming. It still kind of sucks. But my stubbornness takes over. I’m not going to be one of those girls who cries about it, who demands more. I got what I wanted, didn’t I? Bea will be proud.

My heart sinks. My stomach drops. But I stand up, picking my cover up off the back of the chair and putting it back on.

“Oh, yeah, it’s totally cool,” I say breezily. “I have so much stuff I need to do back home anyway. But this has been really fun, Ethan. Thanks for the vacation.”

“So… that’s it? You’re ready to go?”

I look around the patio, the horizon, the black sand beach stretching for miles in either direction. If I’m being honest, is there anything left for me here?

“Sure,” I chirp brightly. “I’ll get my stuff packed. Let me know when you’re ready.”

As I walk away, closing the patio door behind me, my chest is pounding. I hadn’t quite planned it all out. It just happened, with the words spilling out before I could stop them.

But in reviewing my performance back there, I know it was the right thing to do. And I know that I acted strong while I was doing it. I suppose that is the best I can expect from myself.