My heart feels like someone took a sledgehammer to it. It doesn’t beat with the same voracity. Now, there’s just a distant, muted thump, each one coming slower than the last. Thump…thump……………thump.

The whole day had been perfect. The night had been perfect too, with the exception of Casper freaking out on me over the L-word. This was supposed to be the best part. The salivating dessert after a five-course meal. Somewhere between dinner and dessert, everything shifted. I’ve been left in this empty, suspended state, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to keep functioning.

I keep looking out the car window. I can’t look at Casper without a horrible clenching of guilt. I stole something from him.

His freedom.

He was this wild, passionate beast, struck down with an arrow. My family aimed the bow. God, he must hate me. I wouldn’t blame him. I kind of hate me, too.

The quiet is suffocating. He never looks at me either, which is probably a good thing. I don’t think I can bear to see the resentment in his eyes.

I don’t think any less of him for hiring my dad’s thug to beat up Evie’s step-brother. Grief does strange things to a person. If it were me, and someone killed the love of my life, I wouldn’t hesitate to do the same. Yeah, it wasn’t his greatest moment. But ultimately, he’s not to blame either.

Minutes pass, turning into more minutes. I don’t know where we’re going, and I don’t ask. But it’s taking a long time to get there. Or maybe it just feels that way, I’m not sure. All the road signs are in French, so I can’t read them; but after a while, I smell salt in the air. I think we’re near the ocean. No, I know we’re near it. It’s the native Floridian in me.

In the early hours of the morning, we pull into a driveway. A garage door lifts, and Casper pulls the car inside. Neither of us say anything as he turns off the engine. I’m afraid to speak. There’s nothing I could say to make this situation better.

So we both just sit there, staring straight ahead.

After what feels like an eternity, Casper gets out, closing his door behind him. He walks around the car, and then opens mine. I look up at him, finding nothing in his face to give me a clue to what he’s thinking. He’s like stone.

“Let’s go,” he says, grabbing our bags out of the backseat. I follow him inside the dark house, wondering who it belongs to. He punches in the code for the alarm, then flips on some lights.

Elegance is everywhere, from the marble floors to the contemporary furniture and sleek appliances. Whoever owns this place has tons of money. It’s also apparent that no one lives here.

“Go on upstairs,” Casper says, without looking at me. “There’s a bedroom to the right.”

“Casper,” I say, but it comes out as a whisper. He doesn’t hear me. Or if he does, he’s ignoring me.

“I’ll look for the thermostat and get the air going.”

“Casper,” I say again, this time louder. “Whose house is this?”

“A friend’s.” He finally looks at me. “Don’t worry though. He’s never here. Go on upstairs. Get some sleep. It’s been a long night.”

I’m not tired. The night’s events have me on edge. But I climb the steps anyway, figuring maybe I should leave Casper alone to cool off. He’s still angry. I could see it in the hard lines of his face and the way he pronounced every word as if he was trying to reign himself in. I don’t blame him. This so-called job has derailed his entire life. If it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t be in this situation.

I find the bedroom he mentioned easily enough. It’s as luxurious as the rest of the house, and also lacking any personal items. There are no pictures, no belongings, no mess. Just a giant bed full of plush white pillows. I throw myself on it and stare up at the ceiling, wondering how everything went so wrong. Here I am, newly married, lying alone in a dark room, feeling like I just came from my own funeral.

I hear the sound of ocean waves outside. We must be on the beach. A romantic setting. If tonight had gone differently…

The air kicks on. Guess Casper found the thermostat. I don’t know what I’m going to say whenever he finally decides to speak to me. Since he can barely look me in the eye, I doubt it will be anytime soon. But I have plenty of time to lie here and think about how to prepare for that conversation.

The door opens and startles me. Casper closes the door behind him. I didn’t think I’d see him again until tomorrow. I still don’t have any solutions to offer.

He doesn’t say a word as he stalks toward the bed. Up close, I notice the way his eyes are glazed over. I gulp, knowing exactly what he’s here for. The full version of Casper is gone. The only part of him that’s in this room is the lustful part of him that wants me. He’s trying to avoid the mess we’ve fallen into, but I don’t know if it’s possible.

“We should talk first,” I say, my breath shaky. But I don’t really want to talk either, especially when there’s nothing good to say. What I want is to go back and live inside the night we were supposed to have. The one where we run away together for the thrill of it, for the adventure. There’s too much reality darkening this one. Talking will only add to that.

“There’s no point,” he says, reaching for my wrist. In one swift movement, he yanks me up. “What’s done is done.”

God, if we could only pretend it never happened.

But maybe we can…

Casper reaches for my shoulders with his big, warm hands, and leans in. I look at him, questioning this, questioning everything, but he doesn’t have any answers. Neither of us speak in words. Maybe we’re both just too damned shocked. Maybe there are no more words left. His lips press against mine, soft as a breeze at first before landing hard over my mouth like there’s no going back. Then his tongue slips inside my mouth, warm and delicious, returning me to that familiar high. This kiss isn’t like any he’s given me before. There is no hesitation in it. He’s both taking and giving. It’s passionate. Intense. Volcanic, even. And it opens something up inside of me I didn’t know existed.

Casper’s fingers pry the straps of my dress loose, and in seconds, he has it unzipped, dropping to a puddle at my feet. My bra is gone in a blink of an eye. His lips never leave mine, and he explores my mouth as if he’s searching for something. I understand exactly what he’s searching for: an escape. I know he’s looking for it because I am too. Never in my life have I experienced a moment that meant so much, but this one is like I’m on the verge of life and death. We need to find that escape, to put an end to this restless desire.

Casper breaks his mouth from mine to plant slow kisses along my jawline, across the hollow of my neck, and then along my breastbone. My face burns as I stare down at him. He kneels on the floor, his mouth traveling lower, down the center of my chest. Shivers spill over me, and goosebumps tingle my skin. I gasp as his warm mouth finds my nipple. He strokes and teases with his tongue as he grabs my hips, pulling me toward him.

The whole thing is a work of art coming to life. Deep oranges and reds build and intensify inside of us like a blazing fire. Working toward that point of explosion.

There’s a strange combination between us. A mix of languor and urgency in the way we explore each other. We both want to take our time, but we both want everything right now.

He pauses to grin, tracing the heart-shaped birthmark, which covers the skin where my butt meets my thigh. “So this is where it is.”

It’s so small, I’m surprised he even noticed it.

As if reading my thoughts, he says, “I want to know every inch of you.”

He cups me, slipping a finger inside. I buckle toward him—God, already soaking—catching my balance by grabbing his shoulders. More of those orangey-red flames burst from my sex, dancing with every stroke of his finger. “You’re beautiful, you know that, Mila? I’ve thought so since the moment I first saw you in that blue bikini.”

If it’s possible, a blush works its way into my cheeks. I remember thinking he was the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen.

He slips in another finger, and I roll my hips against his hand, biting down on my lower lip to keep from crying out. His eyes come alive as he watches me. There’s so much hunger in them, so much intensity, I can’t help but feel totally absorbed.

He stands, ridding himself of his clothes. He lowers me to the bed, keeping his gaze on my face. I marvel at the masterpiece that he is as my fingers float down the panes of his chest to his abs, all the way to his iron-hard cock, sturdy and solid as the rest of him. My fingers tighten around him, and he makes a low, husky sound that starts deep in his throat and ends up on my lips as his mouth covers mine.

It feels like we’ve been waiting for this forever.

I don’t want to wait any longer.

His muscled hips sink onto my thighs, and I can feel the hardness between my legs as he starts to press inside.

Wait. “Condom,” I breathe out. “Do you have one?”

He moves away, shuffling for his pants on the floor. I hear the tear of a foil packet, and the sound of the condom sliding on. Within seconds, he’s back in the bed, his weight hovering over me. He fills me in one long, slow, perfect thrust, and this time I can’t help it. I cry out from how good he feels inside of me.

A wave crashes.

And then another.

He’s right—I’m drowning.

“Jesus, Mila,” he breathes against my neck. “You feel so fucking amazing.”

I look up at him with wide eyes, taking quick, shuddering breaths. I feel him throbbing inside of me, so hard, so completely solid. We dive into our own little ocean, the one he promised me, and we slowly sink to the bottom.

Rising up on his forearms, he slides out, and I ache for him again. He drives into me, harder this time, racking my body with tiny tremors. It suddenly makes so much sense, why he compared this to drowning. Every time he thrusts, I have to catch my breath. Over and over, he steals the air from my lungs as the fire inside of us continues to build. I watch as his muscles flex, the way his eyes glaze, like he’s on the edge of spiraling. He dips his head close to my ear, cursing and groaning little sounds of pleasure. His chest brushes over my breasts, both of us sweaty, both of us gasping for air.

I don’t think I can’t take much more.

The need inside me is expanding, to the point of bursting. His lips find mine again, his tongue taking all the oxygen I have left. I arch my back, digging my heels into the mattress as I beg for that release. He slams into me, igniting the explosion. Several simultaneous waves of pleasure crash through me, followed by achingly sweet convulsions.

He feels my orgasm spasm around him, and he swells even more, pushing into me for one final thrust, then going still, until I feel the pulse of his release. He sucks in a long, deep breath, surfacing for air.

We lie there for a long time, wrapped in each other’s arms, waiting for our breaths to steady and our hearts to stop beating so fast. The time ticks by in large drops of silence, but neither of us move or say anything.

My body is spent and heavy. I close my eyes, feeling myself start to drift off. Casper is so still, I assume he’s already out. Then, with his mouth pressed against my hair, I hear the faintest of whispers. “I love you, too.”