ABBY was wired. It took her a lot longer than usual to fall asleep. Her mind kept returning to dinner, Andrew’s second kiss, how much she wanted more. She wondered how far they would have gone were it not for the wild coyote who stole the moment. Every so often, Abby would shiver, remembering the jolt she felt when the rifle went off.

She tried to make light of the scary moment, recalling Wile E. Coyote cartoons and imagining the animal outside was just as much of a trickster as Wile E. It didn’t work. She sat up to take a drink of the bottled water at her side table and looked at the time. It was barely after ten at night. The decision was made. She read a little more Asimov to relax.

Picking up where she left off with Foundation made her think about Andrew that much more. She wondered whether he had ever opened up to anyone about the scar that ran from his wrist up to his elbow pit. Maybe it was intuition, or her personal experience of the loss of her mother. She was certain that his injury had something to do with the sadness and loss he carried in his eyes.

And perhaps that event—whatever it was—also led to his decision to leave the practice of medicine. He may not have noticed his own subtle nervous body language, but Abby did. Every time he spoke about medicine, he slid his hand up and down the scar.

Abby did not dare to ask, and started reading again to put it out of her mind. Or, at least, to try. The more she tried to read, the more he invaded her thoughts. His tall, almost giant frame, all muscled. His chiseled cheekbones. His sorrowful eyes. And his sultry lips. She kept the image of his face at the forefront, not fighting it anymore as she read. Soon, both Gaal and Seldon bore a stunning resemblance to Andrew.

She was barely on the fourth chapter when she heard a knock on the door.

“Come in,” she called.

Andrew popped his head in the door.

“Hi,” he said, remaining at the door. “I was wondering if you needed anything before I turn in.”

“Thanks for thinking of me, Andrew,” she said. “I think I’m actually okay tonight.”

“I also wanted to apologize.”

“For what?”

“I felt an apology was in order,” he explained. “If I was inappropriate in any way during dinner.”

“Maybe you should come in and have a seat,” Abby said, leaning forward so she could turn to face him from the side of the bed.

Andrew entered with some hesitation, closing the door behind him. He eventually sat in the armchair between the door and the bed.

“I admit,” Abby began, “I don’t think I’ve ever experienced anything like what’s been happening between us.”

“Likewise,” he added.

“You don’t need to apologize. Unless I apologize too.”

“I appreciate that,” he answered, leaning back into the chair.

“So everything else is okay?”

“Yes,” he answered. “Actually, no, it’s not. I also wanted to say I’m sorry for rushing off when everyone came back inside.”

“I think I understand,” she answered, searching his sorrowful eyes.

“Really?” he asked, not breaking eye contact. “What do you think was the reason I left the room?”

“I don’t know for certain, but my guess is you feel responsible for us while we’re here, even though we’re not invited guests. You don’t want anything bad to happen, and you definitely don’t want to see anyone getting hurt. Not even the coyote.”

“Do you always read people so well?”

“I don’t know,” she answered. “I just saw the concern in your eyes when you grabbed the rifle. And by the way, thanks for keeping my friends safe.”

“Like you said, I couldn’t stand by and watch,” he added, moving his eyes away and to the window.

“Which is why you likely saved six complete strangers last night. And just so you know, it’s not something any of us takes lightly.”

Abby paused, thinking it might be an opportune moment to learn more about Andrew. She sensed he was not as forthcoming about his past, and there was definitely some trauma or major defining moments he wasn’t ready to share. She opted to share about her own past.

“You know,” she said with a slight smile, “at dinner, I was about to tell you why I got into nursing when we got a little…sidetracked.”

“We did, didn’t we?” he agreed with a low chuckle. “So tell me. Why nursing? And why oncology nursing, to be more precise?”

“I think it’s for the same reason you went outside with the rifle,” she began to explain. “After my mom was diagnosed with cancer, I felt so helpless. She was everything to my dad and me. She was so strong in spirit while she fought it, but as her body grew weaker, I became more and more withdrawn. Close to the end, I was sitting in her room, a little numb, and very much had put up a wall around me so I wouldn’t have to grieve when she finally left.”

“She was so weak, but managed to stretch out her hand to me and said, “Abigail Wittfield, you had better take my hand right now and start living, because so help me God, I will never stop reaching for you, even from the other side.” I took her hand, laid my head on her frail chest, and sobbed my eyes out that day. Here she was, suffering, with mere days left, and she wouldn’t give up on me, even after I had given up on her months prior. After she passed, I knew the only thing I’d ever want to do is help people. A career in nursing was natural, and oncology nursing just felt right after I got my degree.”

Abby let out a long breath after sharing about her mother. She didn’t expect to tell him so much. It just flowed out of her, as if the words needed to be spoken. It didn’t matter to her if he wouldn’t open up right away. Sharing was extra therapy for her. She sensed it was a start. And she felt so much better about having kissed a stranger. He wasn’t a stranger anymore, now that he knew a little more of her heart.

“You know, you’re just amazing,” Andrew managed. “I admire you for telling me something so…so personal.”

“It’s only fair, I think,” she explained. “I learned a lot about you over dinner, and I guess I felt more comfortable being able to share too. And now we’re not strangers anymore.”

Abby shifted so her feet touched the floor and she held the foot of the bed to stand up.

“Hey, are you sure you’re all right standing by yourself?” Andrew asked, almost lunging forward to grab her arm for support.

“Positive,” she answered.

Abby didn’t want to think or talk anymore. There was an amazing man in her room, who made her body tingle every time she thought about him, lit up her mind with his intelligence, made her relax, and caused sparks to fly about in her brain whenever she saw him. She wasn’t lying when she said she had never felt anything like that for anyone. Of the few men she had dated through high school and college, not one of them made her jittery. There were never any sparks. Abby didn’t know what it was she was feeling, but she knew she wanted more.

She reached up to his shoulders as she stood in front of him and pulled him down. She whispered, “Thank you,” planted her lips on his, and pressed a chaste but “I want more” kiss on his mouth. Andrew looked genuinely surprised by her action and it took him a moment before he began to react and respond. She pulled away to kiss a line across his bottom lip.

She let out a breath near his ear and under her roaming hand she felt his heart pound rapidly. Yes! That’s the kind of reaction I was hoping for. His hand rose from her waist, where it had fallen, to cup her head in his large hand and turn her face to his.

“Abby,” he whispered.

And those were the last words either spoke for the next fifteen minutes.

He opened his lips and took her mouth. Abby responded with zeal, allowing his tongue to dip in and unravel her. For the third time of her life, she found herself wishing the world would end and this moment would stretch on eternally. Having his mouth on hers, sucking her soul from her, tasting her mouth with his tongue, and letting her do the same to him, it was just out of this world. Hands down, the three best sensual experiences of her life.

Not even the need for oxygen had her wanting to pull away from him. She ran her tongue across his teeth and along his tongue. He tasted like wilderness, like unbridled adventure, and a hint of danger. There was really no other way to describe the unique flavor that was Andrew. She explored his mouth again and again, trying to find better words, trying to determine exactly what she was tasting.

At last, he was the one to yield to survival and pulled away first, in order to gasp large breaths of air. She followed suit and panted, collecting her thoughts and organizing her memories so she could recall them later without trouble. She wanted to remember him. No matter what happened in the future, she wanted to remember him like this. Every moment was an experience.

She was still filing away each sensation when she realized he had tilted back her head and was nibbling along the underside of her jaw. His teeth grazed a tender spot and she felt like laughing. She hadn’t known she was ticklish there, but apparently, she was. Luckily, he moved on, licking and kissing a trail south to her throat. His hands moved up to hold her shoulders and she lowered her head to rest her chin on the crown of his head.

Abby raised her hands to run her fingers through his hair. It was short and so smooth. Instantly, she loved the feeling of it against her skin. Would she feel the same if it brushed her thighs? Suddenly, she craved that knowledge. One of his hands shifted lower to tap against the pulse point throbbing wildly—thanks to what he was currently doing—beside her throat.

As he teased her there, he moved along her collarbone, nipping the delicate skin, then soothing each bite with tender licks. She swooned, letting out a moan, and felt her knees shake. Andrew was so aware of her; he released his grip on one shoulder to wrap his arm around her waist for more support where she stood. As he did, she felt, more than heard, a soft chuckle rise from his chest and she almost laughed too.

His other hand had started to wander, too, dipping below the collar of her robe and grazing the top swells of her breasts. Immediately, her nipples peaked, pushing at the silky fabric. By now, he had to know she had nothing on underneath. He swooped lower and slipped a fingertip over her nipple.

His lips traveled north and his finger moved south. He kissed his way up her neck, under her earlobe. She shivered and arched her neck to the side to allow him greater, easier, please-dear-God access.

He was pulling her robe down dangerously low, stretching out the taut fabric, in order to sneak a few fingers under to massage her nipple between two fingers. She moaned, head falling back.

Don’t let him stop, she begged the stars.

Then, he did.

“Abby.” His hands were back on her shoulders. He was shaking her slightly.

“Um…yes?” She blinked at him, still awash in passion.

“I think we should stop. Otherwise I may not be able to.”

“Let’s not stop, then.”