He thrust again, long and hard. Then faster. Each time I thought I’d die of the pleasure.

“Xavier,” I begged, deep and guttural, as the beginnings of my climax clawed its way along my spine and spread out in a sharp burning wave through my body. I thrust back, every movement pain and pleasure. I held his head, his hair, his shoulders.

His body pounded into mine. Unintelligible French words came groaning and streaming from his mouth against my skin. Every one of them choked through grunting need and staccato breaths.

We shouldn’t have let this happen, but it was too late. Both of us had been taken by a tsunami of raw desperation. We didn’t stand a chance. His words, though I couldn’t understand them, grew harsh, begging, angry.

This wasn’t making love. No, this was fighting it.

We were fighting, both of us. Fighting against our hearts being blown apart.

And then everything pulsing through me coalesced—the ache, the need, the want, the fire, the pain, the love. My straining body bowed and snapped taut. My head crashed back against the wall and I stared upward. Stars were strewn across the black sky above me, and it was as though I flew up and out of my body, joining them.

I was still as Xavier followed soon after, like he’d been waiting. His body gave a final, brutal thrust and froze. The sound of a man in pain came from deep inside his chest.

Our breathing was loud in the silence, sawing in and out. The world around came back, soft distant music that had been playing out of the speakers on the patio. The sound of cicadas and the rustling of the wind across the fields. From the distance came the faint tinny tinkle of a cow bell.

My cheeks were wet and cold. My shoulders suddenly screamed with fire, and I gasped with it.

Xavier slipped from my body, and I winced as the jostle moved my back. Everything inside and out ached and burned. He seemed to sense my distress, and after tucking himself away, he knelt and grabbed my underwear, gently using the fabric to clean me. He tucked them into my jean shorts pocket, and then carefully directing my feet to step into the shorts, he pulled them up. He kissed my thigh and looked up at me.

I didn’t realize how much I was crying until a splash of water hit his cheek. He wiped it off with his fingertips and brought them to his mouth. His hand took mine and tugged, bringing me down. My legs buckled and he moved so he was cradling me in his lap, turning his own back against the rough stone.