Gentlemen last. He waited for the last shower, when the hot water had run out and it was just the hard-breathing frigidity of a cold shower. He didn’t mind. He made it quick and efficient, thinking of Annica the whole time. Had it been a warm shower, and had he been still thinking of Annica—which would have been a guarantee—he would have perhaps wasted all the hot water himself. Taking a little too long, in her memory, on the dirtiest parts.

He could have used the release. He felt that now, the impending doom of his horniness returning as he crept back into the darkened guest house. He watched as a sliver of light spilled onto the bed, onto Annica. She had been waiting there for him. On top of the sheets, her back turned. Knees tucked up to chest. Was she sleeping?

Oh, God, he could have used the release . . .

It felt like he was bringing a loaded gun into bed with them. As if his gun had magically appeared from the Pacific. A different, softer kind. A harder kind. One they could both use. He crept over with that feeling already starting up in his shorts, the warming and tingling sensation of awoken desires, of anticipation . . . But for what?

She was sleeping.

She needed her sleep.

He might have needed something else.

Cole opened the mosquito netting and crept in, tying the mesh behind him without a sound. He even tried breathing quietly to not disturb her any further.

He took a moment before resting a knee on the large air mattress, still standing at the foot of the bed, watching her sleep in Mira’s clothes. A big T-shirt. Small pair of shorts. No sheets. He watched the movement of her breathing, her shoulder rising and falling. Hair draped over. He looked down to her firm backside. How could he get any sleep next to that?

It might be his most difficult mission yet. Certainly his hardest.

Before he could climb into bed, Annica turned around. She was smiling, relaxed as if she’d been expecting him there.

She brushed her hair to the side. “I don’t care what they think anymore.”

“Think about what?”

“About us.”

He liked hearing that word come out of her mouth. Us. They indeed were an “us.” The details were still unclear as to just how much of an “us” they really were. But Cole was glad to start there. Together.

He was glad, too, seeing Annica inching over to her side of the bed, making room for him.

“I don’t care, either,” Cole said, climbing into bed next to her. “I never did.”

“I could tell.”

They lay next to each other, on their sides, curling in. There was a small gap between them that no one seemed in a rush to bridge. Cole kept his hands folded under his pillow.

“Besides,” Cole said, “it’s not like there’s nothing else for them to talk about. It’s been a pretty exciting night.”

“I’m sorry about your friend.”

It surprised him. Cole hadn’t forgotten, but he’d taken steps to push it out of his mind the best he could. He preferred not to think about Tommy until he knew what the score was. Until he knew if Tommy had really sold him out. Until he knew if Tommy would survive . . .

“Everything’s up in the air right now,” he said, feeling that sickness gnaw again at the pit of his stomach. That sick feeling of not knowing something important. “All up in the air, isn’t it?”

“Some of it,” Annica said.

“Some of the most important things.”

She waited a moment and then said, “Some of those important things are also known, too.”

He knew how he felt about her. He knew that, at the very least.

“I know,” Cole said.

“You do?” She flipped around, facing away from him now. At first, the move worried Cole. But then he watched as she slid backward, into him. Spooning. They took a deep breath, together, and Cole’s arm draped over her. It was a natural instinct, like taking a breath. Their bodies, too, naturally together. Instincts all the way, from emails to the beach, and now to this bed.

Cole held her close and said, “I’ve been wanting to do this all night.”

“I know,” she said.

Annica smelled clean and fresh from the shower. They might have used the same borrowed soap. Like she did, Cole wore his guest’s clothes, Jackson’s jogging shorts. No shirt. Her body felt warm and amazing against his bare chest.

She yawned. “I’m so tired, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep.”

“I can stay up with you,” Cole said. “As long as it takes.”

Annica pulled her pillow closer, her body settling in snugly against him with a gentle wiggle across his crotch. They lay in silence for a moment, listening to the waves far down at the beach. Annica shivered slightly in his arms, and he could maybe guess why. Hours ago, after that first wave, the coast had been hit several more times, with decreasing severity. The sea had since returned to its normal surf, with normal-sized waves. He listened to them crash now, wondering when the next big round would come ashore.

“I hope I thanked you properly,” Cole said. “You basically saved my life.”

“I did save your life.”

“You did,” Cole said.

“You saved mine, too. So I guess we’re already even.”

“We’re even,” he said, bringing his face down to her shoulder. “We’re very even.”

“We are.”

He kissed her shoulder through the cotton of her T-shirt.

He peeled back her sleeve, up her arm, and laid his lips on her soft, bare skin. Kissing there. Sucking, just a little bit. She pressed back into him. It was as if their bodies couldn’t bear to be apart.

Annica turned her head slightly, trying to get a glimpse of him. He nuzzled his face to her neck, pinning her down with a kiss. She groaned so quietly in the dark, in bed, with him. While at her neck, Cole could feel one of her hands drop down his body, feeling him through his shorts. Feeling him growing.

Another round of waves crashed ashore. Distant. Safely away. And up here in this little hut, in their close and dark privacy, with their bodies pressed against each other’s, he felt safe, too.

Safe enough to stop talking. To let their bodies continue the conversation. The exchange. Cole’s shorts slid down, and then Annica’s, smooth and quick down her thighs. He leaned forward, leaning into her, spreading her until she gave way, warm and tight and perfect.

She might have said something then, when he’d slid fully inside, when their bodies touched. Something low and garbled with ecstasy as her face turned away and into the pillow. She made her noises into the pillow, quietly—as quietly as he worked in her, with hardly any sound but their breathing and the rocking of the bed. He gripped on to her, by the soft mounds of her hips. She gripped the bed, hands contracted tightly. Her body gripped tightly around him and already it seemed impossible for him to last this way. The motion too good, the fit too right. Everything perfectly quiet. Close and quiet enough for Cole to hear the sweet sound of how excited he’d made her. To hear their skin, sticking now as they warmed with the motion. He pumped harder, warmer. His hands moved up from her hips, up her back, pushing up her shirt. He wanted to see her bare flesh. More of it. He wanted a faceful of her bare back, and he got it now and kissed it softly. She kept her face away, hidden. Breasts no longer hidden. His hands had moved around to find them, holding both against the jarring thuds of his hips.

Her face no longer buried, Annica turned back to him, to catch his lips and hold them. He held her head as they groaned through a long, hot kiss. She never let go, even as he came with a groan, her pussy contracting around him as she shuddered beneath him.