Page 105 of The Moment of Letting Go

I get really quiet. His hand stops.

“Luke … seriously, I-I don’t want to think about that stuff right now.”

“What do you want to think about, then?” he whispers, two of his fingers now pressing firmly against me, moving a little faster in a circular motion.

I gasp, my back arcing a little, my chest heaving.

“I want to think about what you’re doing to me right now,” I say breathily. Oh my God …

“Don’t close your legs, baby,” he whispers. I didn’t even notice I had tried.

“OK …” He doesn’t have to tell me twice.

He pushes my leg over the side of the hammock, where it hangs at the bend of my knee.

Every muscle in my body begins to tense. I feel like I need to raise my arms above me and grab on to something, but we’re too tangled, lying in the hammock, closely compacted together, preventing much movement.

My mouth falls open and my breath comes out in a shudder. “Oh my God … Luke … seriously.”

He manages somehow to get his mouth near mine and his tongue touches the corner of my lips. I try to roll to the side to kiss him, but it’s nearly impossible. My chest rises and falls with a deep, unsteady breath.

“What would you do if I stopped right now?”

“I’d cry.”

“You’d cry?”

I gasp and moan, digging the tips of my fingers into his abs. “Yes, I’d probably cry—please don’t stop.”

“But what if I stopped and took you inside,” he says with his mouth still near mine and his fingers still moving below, “and I laid you out on my bed and stripped off all your clothes and spread you open and finished you off with my tongue?”

My eyes roll into the back of my head.

My body goes rigid underneath his hand, my neck arcing over the side of the hammock, and Luke’s warm, wet mouth falls on my exposed throat. I let out a moan as a tiny explosion goes off inside of me, my legs shaking, my hands gripping on to something—I don’t even know what at this point. He drags his teeth gently down my throat, and then his tongue, a low growl moving through his lungs. As my body slowly calms and my breathing begins to even out again, his fingers move more slowly until finally he pulls his hand from my panties. We lie here quietly together, looking up at the blue sky peeking through the green palm leaves above us.

He kisses me.

“I’m going to miss you, Sienna.”

“I’m going to miss you too.”

I feel like crying. Maybe it’s the overwhelming emotion I always feel after an intense orgasm, but I know it’s not only that—I don’t want to leave.

I shake off the tears and choose to make our last few moments together more fun and memorable than sad and dark. Carefully, I try to roll over on top of him, but it’s not an easy thing to do in a hammock and it sways precariously side to side, threatening to spill us both. But he catches me, wrapping his arms around me, steadying the hammock and us within it, his long, tanned leg dangling over one side.

I kiss his lips. He smiles.

“I think since I have to leave soon,” I say with a coy grin, dragging the tip of my index finger over his bottom lip, “maybe we should spend what time we have left in bed.”

He grins.

“That is so tempting,” he says, grabbing my butt with both hands and squeezing.

“Well, the offer still stands,” he says and kisses me again. “Let me take you inside—unless you want to do it out here. I don’t mind either way.”

My cheeks feel hot. “No, let’s go inside.”

After very carefully finding our way out of the hammock without falling out of it, Luke carries me piggyback up the steps of the lanai and into the house. And instead of hiking, we spend the entire day in bed. Sometimes napping. Sometimes lying curled up next to each other listening to the rain patter on the roof. Sometimes having sex. But mostly what we do with our time left together is talk. We talk about everything. And the more we talk, the more we feel like we’ve known each other forever and the more we know that my leaving is going to crush us both.

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