When they reached the secluded lagoon, the curving rock ledge shielded them further, hemming them into this private little pool for lovers. The waterfall pattered down the slate, beating out a steady rhythm.

She roped her arms around Nate’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss. It was a morning kiss, the kiss of the sun rising and the start of a new day. It was a kiss that held the promise of so much more between the two of them, of a whole future. Of lazy Sundays. Of breakfasts together. Of Saturday matinees, and foot rubs, and baths, and Chinese takeout, and someday, walking a dog together in the park.

She ran her tongue across his top lip, then the bottom, savoring this lingering pace—soft, slow and unhurried. No one was in a rush. They weren’t subscribing to a set amount of lessons or expecting only a finite amount of time together, and the kiss said as much. She gave herself over to the delicious sensations that spread through her whole body, warming her inside and out with the tenderness of his touch. Then, he picked up the speed, kissing her harder and deeper, their tongues tangling as the falling water made its morning music. Soon he backed her up so they were under the waterfall. It was like standing in an afternoon summer storm as the drops cascaded over her shoulders, her breasts, her waist. She sighed contentedly as his lips fused to hers.

But then, sometimes easy kisses turn into something more. As he yanked her closer, the evidence was clear in the hard length of his erection—this kiss was primed for much more than first base. “I’m thinking we want to kick the bucket list item up a notch. How about you?”

She nodded, flashing him a naughty grin. “I’m thinking we’re on the same page again. But just to make sure, is this how you’re thinking you’d like me? In this position?” She turned around, dropped her hands onto a rock that peeked over the water’s surface, and raised her backside into the air. He groaned appreciatively.

“Yes. You are reading my mind,” he said as he slid his hand between her legs where she was ready for him.

Funny, how she’d intended simply to kiss him in this romantic, blissful setting. But then the two of them had never been very good at stopping at kissing. The first night in New Orleans his kisses had made her want to climb him like a tree. They’d only grown hotter since, and they always led to more.

He rubbed his hard-on against her entrance, and a little whimper escaped her throat from that first heady sensation of him touching her where she wanted him most. In one quick thrust he had them both moaning at the same time, their sounds echoing across the rocks, carried off on the morning breeze along the ocean. The water lapped gently around her as he rocked in and out, filling her.