Page 95 of People We Meet on Vacation

And then I’m dragging him in against me, and he’s roughly lifting my thigh against his hip, and I’m sinking my fingers into his wide back, my teeth into his neck, and his hands are massaging my chest, my ass. His mouth moves down my collarbones, sliding under my bikini, teeth careful on my nipple, and I’m feeling him through his shorts, then reaching into them, loving how he tenses and shifts. I push his shorts down over his hip bones, my mouth going dry at the feeling of him against me.

“Shit,” I say, a realization hitting me like a bucket of ice water, “I went off birth control.”

“If it helps,” he says, “I had a vasectomy.”

I draw back, shocked out of the moment. “Youwhat?”

“They’re reversible,” he says, blushing for the first time since we started this. “And I took... precautions, in case I want kids and the reversal doesn’t work. They usually do, but... anyway, I just... didn’t want to accidentally get someone pregnant. I’m still always safe—it’s not like... Why are you looking at me like that?”

I knew Alex was a black-and-white thinker. I knew he was ultracautious, and I knew he was the most thoughtful, courteous person on the planet. But somehow I’m still surprised all of that added up tothisbig decision. It makes my heart feel like a sore muscle, all heat and achy tenderness, because it is just sohim. I tighten my armsaround his waist, squeeze him to me. “It’s just that of course you did that,” I say. “Above and beyond caution and consideration. You’re a prince, Alex Nilsen.”

“Uh-huh,” he says, his expression both amused and unconvinced.

“I’m serious,” I say, pressing closer. “You’re incredible.”

“We can find a condom if you want,” he says. “But I’m not—there’s no one else.”

I’m sure I’m blushing now and probably smiling ridiculously. “That’s okay,” I say. “It’s just us.”

What I mean to say is, if there’s anyone I would do this with, it would be him. If there’s one person I truly trust, want all of in this way, it’s him.

But that’s how I say it:It’s just us. And he says it back to me, like he knows exactly what I mean, and then we’re on the ground, in a sea of discarded plastic, and he’s tearing my top off, pulling my bottoms off too, pressing his mouth between my legs, clutching my ass in his hands, making me gasp and rise against him as his tongue moves over me. “Alex,” I plead, knotting my hands into his hair, “stop making me wait for you.”

“Stop being impatient,” he teases. “I’ve waited twelve years. I want this to last.”

A shiver races down my spine, and I arch into him. Finally, he crawls up the length of me, hands tangling in my hair, roaming over my skin, and he slowly pushes into me. We find our rhythm together, and it all feels so good, so electric, so right that I can’t believe all the time we wasted not doing this. Twelve years of subpar lovemaking when all along, this was how it was supposed to be.

“God, how are you so good at this,” I say, and his laugh grates against my ear as he kisses behind it.

“Because I know you,” he says tenderly, “and I remember what you sound like when you like something.”

Everything in me pulls taut in waves. Every move of his hands, every thrust threatens to unravel me.

“I could have sex with you until I die,” I pant.

“Good,” he says, and he moves a little faster, harder, the intense pleasure of it making me buck and swear and move to match him.

“I love you,” I hiss, by accident. I think I meant to sayI love having sex with youorI love your amazing body, or maybe I did mean to sayI love you, the same way I always say it to him when he does something thoughtful, but this is a little bit different because we’re having sex, and my face goes hot and I’m not sure how to fix it, but then Alex just sits up and draws me into his lap, holding me close as he pushes into me again slow, deep, hard, and says, “I love you too.”

And all at once, my chest loosens, my stomach unwinds, and any embarrassment and fear evaporates. There’s nothing left but Alex.

Alex’s rough hands moving gently through my hair.

Alex’s wide back rippling under my fingers.

Alex’s sharp hips working slowly, purposefully against mine.

Alex’s sweat and skin and raindrops on my tongue.

His perfect arms holding on to me, keeping me there, against him, as we rock and clutch.

His sensual lips tugging at my mouth, coaxing it open to taste me as we draw together and apart, finding new ways to touch and kiss each other every time we reunite.

He kisses my jaw, my throat, my shoulder, his tongue hot and careful against my skin. I touch and taste every hard line and soft curve of him I can get to and he shivers under my hands, my mouth.

He lies back and draws me on top of him, and this is the best yet, because I can see so much of him, get to every place I want.

“Alex Nilsen,” I say breathlessly. “You are the hottest man alive.”

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