"You want me to stop?" His voice comes throaty and shaking, and his hands are still firm on my hips. I'm not sure he would be able to stop even if I did say yes.
But I don't want to say yes. God knows just how much I don't. I shake my head and pull back a notch, just enough to see him, all of him. His beautiful eyes and full, wet lips, the shape of his statuesque torso and his strong arms. I want every inch of him carved in my memory. I want to take him in with all my senses, now that he's still mine to kiss and touch. I start with the hollow of his neck, running my lips from there down onto his chest, my fingers drifting alongside, my nails leaving fine traces on his soft skin. His chest rumbles the lower I go. When I'm just below his navel, I stop and look up, pressing my lips to him just as my hand slides inside his boxers, caressing his erection. He groans in my mouth.
And then all our instincts break loose.
He hooks one arm around my waist, and pushes me on my back in the dirt, kissing me like never before. I don't know how, but I get rid of his shorts and then he's completely naked over me, and I'm completely naked in his arms. His tongue twists on my nipple, and his fingers torture me, first cupping my inner thigh, then circling their way up to my sex. I let out moan after moan as my body starts to pulsate and quiver, lightly in the beginning, then stronger and stronger until my whole body shakes, and I'm at the mercy of his blessed fingers.
"Please," I murmur against his lips when the emptiness inside me becomes too unbearable.
He thrusts into me and we both groan when our bodies unite in sheer abandon that doesn't bring me the relief I crave so much. Instead, it brings tears to my eyes that I hide, burying my head in his shoulder, and sobs that I try to disguise as moans. I dig my nails deeply into his back when throbs of tension start rippling through me from my most intimate spot.
"Serena," he grunts in my ear, low and raspy, kissing my neck and the lobe of my ear. And then I feel tears on my cheeks that aren't mine. I push myself into him, desperately looking for pleasure, and the cadence of our moves becomes so frantic that I think our bodies might break. But neither of us can drown the pain in pleasure anymore. So we just let it drown us, clasping our hips against each other again and again, giving into the unrelenting longing for relief. When his body goes rigid, and my own succumbs to the explosion that breaks my last defenses in a thousand pieces, I press my mouth to his and claim his bliss—the last stolen moment—the memory that will be the brightest star in my little glass box.
He falls over me, and we stay like this, entangled, his head buried in my neck. I feel his hot tears dripping on my shoulders and I don't bother hiding or stopping my own. It doesn't hurt as much as before though, and it bothers me because I don't understand why. There was a time, after Kate's death, when I thought there was only so much pain a person could feel, and that it would start fading in intensity, until one no longer felt anything. I learned the hard way it didn't work like that. But maybe now my body has finally hit rock bottom. Maybe it finally can't feel the pain anymore. I don't know how much time passes before the silence isn't punctured only by our breaths and sobs, but by guffaws of laughter resounding in the distance.
"I think the others have arrived," I say. James pushes himself up on his palms, and the moment our bodies no longer touch, whatever shield disguised my pain, breaks. Slowly, only one crease slitting it first, and then another one, until it shatters completely. It leaves me vulnerable and raw, and unable to look at the hint of a smile on his face without dying on the inside. His eyes are clear already, no trace of tears in them.
"We need to jump in the river," he says.
Of course we do. We're both smeared with dust and dirt. I get up and head past him. Once in the water, I swim around, careful not to get drawn away by the current, or too close to James. He doesn't attempt to come close to me either.
When he walks out of the water, I say, "I want to stay a little longer. You go to the others, I'll come in a few minutes."
"Hurry up, we'll barbecue," he says and my heart gives a jolt at the expectant look in his eyes. He's not giving me the easy way out. He genuinely believes I will come. But I will not do such a thing, cowardly as that might seem.
We said our goodbyes already.
He gets dressed at top speed and then walks away, but not before glancing at me and holding his hands up as if asking, "What are you waiting for?"
The second he's out of sight, fresh tears burn behind my eyelids. I blindly get out of the water, take my clothes from the waterproof bag and put them on. Among the laughter in the distance, I wipe the tears away from my eyes and cling to the one thought that won't do away with my sanity: I need to find Parker and get the hell out of here.
But finding Parker is not as easy as I'd hoped. I peek from behind a tree as everyone wanders around, still stoned on adrenaline from the rafting. It doesn't help that everyone is still in their wetsuits. I finally see Parker. I wave carefully, so the others don't spot me, gesturing him to come my way.
He raises his eyebrows as I duck behind the tree completely when he arrives, pulling him with me. "Are you hiding here?"
"No, I decided to play hide and seek," I snap.
Parker opens his mouth, then closes it right back, staring intently at my eyes. I think they give away that I've been crying.
"Do you think we can leave now?" I ask.
"We can still stick around for a couple of hours. There is plenty of—"
"Please, Parker."
He rubs his chin, glancing sideways as the others start with the barbecue. "I tell you what, wait for me by the car. I'll be right there after I change and say goodbye to everyone. Just follow this pathway." He gestures to a trail between the trees.
I nod, grateful he didn't ask why I don't want to say goodbye to everyone, then proceed on the pathway. At the end of the pathway are the two buses—the drivers must have brought them here from the place we initially got off—and Parker's car. I lean against the passenger door, but instantly jump away, as the glass, hot from the sun, burns me.
When Parker arrives, we both slide inside the car.
"Did your driver manage to get my bag from the apartment?" I ask.
"Of course he did. Which means we've got about five hours until I need to be at the airport. I don't know about you, but I'm starving. Since we're skipping barbecue, I suggest we stop somewhere along the highway."
"Sounds good". There's a very un-Parker-ish resentment in his tone, and I'm not sure it's about the barbecue at all.