Then suddenly his fingers squeezed to a fist against my scalp, his breathing stopped, and his entire body tensed for two seconds before his breath stuttered and he started to pull my mouth away. I fought him, determined to have him.

I wanted everything.

He let out a strangled sound, and he jerked and erupted down my throat, shuddering violently through his orgasm.

Time slowed and then came back.

The waves lapped gently up the sand in whispering rushes. Birds cried.

“Merde, Joséphine. You will kill me,” he added after a few moments, his voice cracked.

“I wanted it. I wanted you.” Every single piece of you I can get, I added silently. Because I love you. I sat back, and his eyes opened and swept down my body.

Suddenly his eyes narrowed at the hand that was still between my legs, and he grabbed it.

Xavier’s flushed face turned agonized as he sucked my fingers into his mouth. “Pour moi,” he said. “I should punish you for trying to take your pleasure away from me when you just stole mine. You cannot have it all.”

Jesus. His erotic words sent me even closer to the edge without laying a finger on me.

Then his fingers replaced mine, then his mouth, and as I gazed up at the cliffs a few moments after that, I realized how fleeting my control was.

We pulled ourselves up the ladder onto the swim deck, laughing and out of breath from racing each other. The music on the boat was still playing. It was slow and powerful, and the woman’s voice sang familiar lyrics in an echo of the feeling I’d just had on the beach with Xavier about it being strange what desire could make foolish people do. I inhaled, feeling the words hit my chest as she cried out desperately that she didn’t want to fall in love. “Is this ‘Wicked Game’? I only know the Chris Isaac version,” I added, my voice nonchalant in a bid to draw attention from the fact that the words were the theme to our entire relationship. And that I was going to fucking cry if I stopped to listen to them.

“The artist’s name is Ursine Vulpine,” Xavier said, handing me a towel from the stack Paco must have left out for us.

“It’s beautiful,” I said as my hair stood on end, and goosebumps raced over my skin. “Haunting. But you need to turn it off.”

Xavier stopped and swallowed. He seemed about to say something and stopped himself. Around us the female singer’s voice grew and enveloped us in her desperate plea to not fall in love.

I watched as Xavier understood what I meant, the words registering, and surprise and regret rippled across his face.

Turning my back on him, I bit down hard, and pretending I needed further drying, concentrated on my legs and arms.