“I love you, Ave,” he whispers in my ear as he pulls my hair gently, reentering me from behind while my body trembles on all fours.

Within seconds, I’m there. Mystical, magical there. I’ve fallen off the edge. I’ve arrived. Collapsing onto the bed, my face buried into the pillow, Jake grips my hips and slams into me three more times, my name a guttural moan from his lips.

His sweaty body falls onto mine, his chest to my back, his labored breaths warm against my ear.

“Sorry for disrupting your breakfast rush,” I mumble into the pillow while turning my head to the side. My lungs can’t find oxygen with his dead weight blanketing me.

“No, you’re not.” He rolls off me and smacks my ass.

I giggle as he pulls me to his chest, our legs scissoring together. “I’m really not. Thank you for the note and the lavender.” Tipping my chin up, I smile at him. My fingers trace the lines of his chest and the ink that covers it.

He stares at me with a serious look for several moments before submitting to a tiny smile. “Was this your idea of going slow? Felt fast to me. We could try it again … only slower.”

This pang in my heart keeps me from fully appreciating his humor. What are we doing? Really … we couldn’t be more opposite. “Do you think what we have is what two people on a stranded island feel? Do you think we ended up in bed together for a lack of a better choice? And now that we’ve rejoined reality, do you think regret will set in?”

“I’m no longer your first choice?” He messes with a few strands of my hair, focusing on them instead of holding my gaze.

“I’m not talking about me. I just said ‘we’ so you wouldn’t feel like I was specifically talking about you. But now that you’re questioning me, I’ll admit … I’m talking about you.”

“You don’t think you’re my first choice?” His eyes meet my gaze again.

“I think you know I’m not as bad at sex as what you originally assumed.”

We grin.

“But I also think Deedy marrying my dad connects us, and maybe that connection feels hard for you to break. What if your loyalty to Deedy is what’s really keeping you tied to me?”

His lips twist as he scratches his head, tugging a bit at his messy, blond hair. “That would be tragic.”

“You’re making fun. Not nice.” I push away.