Chapter 18 January 11th Firelight flickers on Henry's face as he looks up at me. I can feel his hard cock against me where I straddle him begging for entrance, but tonight, I'm not in a rush. After three whole days of having him all over this godforsaken island, I've developed more patience. As I pull back from kissing his eyelids, my stomach flips over with excitement, and my mind issues a correction. Not much patience-but a little. "And this spot right here," I say, kissing the peeling, sunburned tip of his nose. "It's pretty cute too." He laughs. "Oh yeah?" "Yeah." Ten orgasms and a whole lot of foreplay since I first convinced him to take it all the way four nights ago, and I'm still greedier and greedier to have him again every hour of the day. I thought I'd be satiated pretty quickly-like I usually am with guys when I decide it's time to drop and run. But I haven't felt even the slightest hint of pressure to bolt. At all. At first, I chalked it up to being the literal only male and female in existence as far as we're concerned, which, rationally, makes sense. We're in a bubble, far-removed from reality, and I can't expect my behaviors here to mirror the ones of my home life. But I'm starting to realize the more times we're together-or, hell, maybe it's more admit than realize-there's a hell of a lot more driving my comfortability with attachment than proximity. Henry's hot, funny, capable, and motherfucking banging in bed, and when it comes to options for how a girl could do in life, he's pretty firmly at the top of the list. He's patient, he's kind, he looks at me like I'm more than some passing fancy or box to check. He looks at me for who I am, but also for the potential of what I could be if I wanted to. He looks at me like I'm so much more than some spoiled little rich girl. I don't know if he's just passing the time with me or if he feels a growing tether like I do, but for the sake of self-preservation, I haven't given myself more than a second at a time to consider it. And I'm sure as hell not going to ruin how good I feel at the moment by giving it brain time now. "Tell me something no one knows," I challenge, leaning into the need to learn more about him. For years, I've set him aside as my brother's hot friend, without setting aside space for anything more. I didn't let myself wonder. Tonight, all the barriers are down. "Like a secret?" I shrug. "It can be anything. A secret. A desire. A nasty habit. Whatever you want. Just something about you you've never told anyone." "Okay," he says, humming thoughtfully. "Let me think about it for a minute. I don't want to let you down with some bullshit like I never put the toilet seat down." "You don't put the toilet seat down?" I wrinkle my nose. "What if I fall in?" "Avery," he says through a laugh, and I roll my eyes. Worrying about toilet seats when I've been forced to go in the woods with nothing but freaking leaves for toilet paper for the last eleven days is the height of ridiculousness. Still, old habits and high expectations die hard, and I'd rather not drown in toilet water when we do make it back to civilization. That is, I guess...if we even see each other enough to share toilet seats? The thought burns my chest as I swallow it down, ignoring it for now. "Okay, okay," I say instead. "Think about it, then." "I guess...I've always had a little thing for Ross and Monica's mom on Friends. Like, maybe, if they were real, and I had an opportunity, I'd fight Jack for her." "Oh my God! What's the male version of a cougar? A panther? A bobcat? Because that's what you are, Henry Callahan. Creeping on all the old ladies! Tell me, seriously, are you on the prowl when you go out to the clubs at home? Looking for a senior citizen?" "I'm not on the prowl for AARP members! But you said to make it weird!" he exclaims through a hearty laugh. "And I'm sorry, but Ross's mom had this high-maintenance, the ultimate challenge, sex appeal about her." "Oh my God!" I shriek through a giggle and pretend to cover my ears. "I didn't say make it weird, you freaking weirdo! I said to make it good." "Fine," Henry says through another laugh. "You tell me one, then. What's one of your secrets, if you're so good at coming up with them?" I think through all the things I do that people don't necessarily know about. The old ladies from The Pines I help dress in the latest fashion, the times I've volunteered at the soup kitchen in downtown Miami, and the tab I have open at Starbucks for strangers who come in there asking for food or something to drink. They're all pretty valid secrets in the shock-and-awe department, but for some reason, I don't like how serious and vulnerable they make me sound. I settle for something slightly more in line with the personality I present to the world, but a pretty big lack of disclosure all the same. "Last year, when I was shopping for June and my mom for Christmas, I purposely got them gifts from Hermès so I would qualify to get offered another bag I wanted." Henry laughs, shaking his head. "Well, I guess it's still the act of giving, so I can't fault you there." "Well, actually..." I wince, outing myself further. "I also made sure the stuff I bought them was stuff I wanted and they didn't, so they would end up giving it to me." Henry barks out a laugh. "Avery!" "What?" I shrug. "It's not like the two of them aren't rich enough to get whatever the hell they want. They both have rich husbands. I'm still living off a quickly drying well from my father." "You really are cute, you know that?" Henry asks, leaning forward to kiss the corner of my mouth and slide the strap of my bikini top down my shoulder. The skin underneath his thumb pebbles. "Oh yeah? How cute? Cute enough to take to bed again?" He smiles against the skin of my shoulder, and his ever-growing beard scratches at it gently. "Yes...and no." "Yes and no?" I question, incredulous. "Those are opposites. You know that, right?" "I do." He nods, looking up at me with the sexiest, saddest eyes I've seen since he dipped his wick in my ink the first time. "The thing is, I've already had your perfect pussy two times today and three yesterday, and I'm worried if I have it a third today, we're really asking for a problem infection-wise. I don't want you to get a UTI without a way to treat it." It sucks, but he's right. I've been trying to be really careful at seeing to my hygiene after we're together, but there are some things that are a much bigger risk here than they are at home. There's no quick trip to urgent care for antibiotics. There's sepsis and a really ugly death. Ugh. "Okay." He hums, pulling my face down for a kiss that makes my stomach flip over. "Doesn't mean we can't cuddle and make out." I nod. "Yeah. Let's do that." Ever so gently, he picks us up from our spot by the fire just like he did the first night we slept together and carries me to our shelter. I wrap my hands around his neck, and he cradles me in his arms like I'm as light as a feather. I know I'm dropping weight just like he is, but truth be told, I've been trying not to focus on it. I've got enough problems to worry about without considering my dwindling appearance. I cling to Henry somewhat desperately as he leans down to scoot us into our shelter, needing our already-close bodies to be closer. Big, big problems. Once we're tucked inside, he rolls us to our sides so we're facing each other, his eyes tracing my face and leaning forward every few seconds to take slow, lingering kisses. It's intimate and swoon-inducing, and I find myself easily lost in the magic of it all. We could be in a daily rental cabana on the beach of a resort, in the warm comfort of my oceanfront condo's bed, or tucked away on his deep, suede couch in his cushy Miami living room. We're so locked in on each other, the simplicity of our survival has faded away, and truly, we could be anywhere. An unknown amount of time ticks by like that, wrapped in each other's arms as we kiss and touch and explore without rushing to get to a sex-laden end. When his eyes start to get heavy, I rub at his back to encourage him to let go and fall asleep without worry or waiting for me. Normally, he comforts me to sleep, playing with my hair and singing that same old song about the bird and its wings, but just for tonight, I take the lead at comforting him. He's been strong and unswayable in the face of adversity. He's been generous and careful with me, and not once has he made me feel like more of a burden than a boon. He's the reason I'm not only alive, but sane. He deserves to be taken care of. His features, normally rugged and strong, are so soft as he lets go into a restful sleep, and I study every line as though it's a personalized, wrapped, and bowed gift. Eleven days we've been here with only each other to lean on. I close my eyes tight and pray that we'll find a way to get out of here or that someone will find us and save us-save me from myself. We have to leave. I caress Henry's face as he sleeps and stare at his beautiful, chapped lips, pressing mine gently to his so as not to disturb his rest. Everything inside me screams in self-preservation-a reserve that's dwindling more and more by the second. We have to leave. My eyes find Henry's face again. We have to leave before I love you.