“Are you sure?” he asked, his lips brushing against her skin. “You don’t need a minute?” He was already moving again, his body so eager at the permission that it outpaced his thoughts.

“Yes,” she affirmed, closing her eyes and nodding with delirious want. “I’m sure.”

22. Corfu Town, Greece

22

CORFU TOWN, GREECE

Now

Later, Alex found that they had migrated to the bathroom floor, waiting each other out in the silence of what they had done.

“What time is it?” she asked, not moving her head from his bare chest as it gently rose and fell beneath her.

The words felt like a broken spell, an acknowledgement that this couldn’t last—or, at least, that it shouldn’t.

“Umm,” he replied, lifting his wrist from the tile floor to check his watch. “Late.”

He paused, and she could feel his neck craning down to look at her. But she would not ask him to stay, and he would not offer to. Maybe they were both cowards, or just reasonably self-protective from the hurt they were constantly inflicting on one another. Either way, there was no limit to their physical vulnerability, and nothing but boundaries when it came to anything remotely emotional.

She sat up, suddenly self-conscious of her nudity. As if reading her mind, he reached up and pulled a towel down from the bar, allowing her to wrap it around herself. With him still totally undressed on the floor, she felt the familiar comfort of the power differential shifting in her favor, taking a last, delicious look at him as he slipped his shirt over his head. His body had always been beautiful, but his discipline in every area of his life since college was paying dividends. She could barely decide which part of him she loved most, but she was drawn to the dark, fine hair on his muscular chest and the angular shape of his hips: they formed a perfect arrow with the trail running down his defined stomach, directing her to the impressive features waiting just below.

She looked away: half to preserve his modesty, half to stop herself from wanting him again. The sound of his belt buckle reminded her of that night in her cabin, wondering what he must have looked like on the other side. If she had known then what she knew now, she might have died on the spot.

“You can come to dinner, you know,” he said, turning to check himself in the mirror. “You need to eat.”

It was something he had done since they were young: constantly making sure she’d eaten, asking if she was still hungry even when she’d cleaned her plate.

“Thank you, but I’ll find my own food,” she replied. She stood up, slipping on her shorts underneath the towel. “If I wanted to come to dinner, I wouldn’t have left.”

“I didn’t mean to drive you away, you know.”