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  It starts raining right after we board. On the train, I sleep, sagging with my head on Adam’s shoulder. He shakes me awake when we reach our stop, and then he pulls me back against him for the cab ride back to the hotel.

  He laughs as I collapse onto our bed once we’re back at the hotel. I can’t help it. My legs tremble like Jell-O. After stepping out of his sneakers and tugging mine off of me, he joins me.

  We still have to meet Katya for dinner. His phone wakes us a couple of hours later. I groan as he reaches over me to silence it. When he chuckles, I peer at him through a curtain of my hair.

  “What?” I mumble, not awake enough to fully form my consonants.

  “You”—he pushes my hair to the side—“are not a morning person.”

  “It’s not morning,” I argue, covering my face with a pillow.

  The weight on the bed shifts, and he’s straddling me. I have another moment of blissful darkness before he lifts the pillow off of my head.

  “We still need to get ready for dinner. Want to share a shower?” He raises one brow, his hands slipping under my shirt.

  “Won’t we be late?” I ask, not really caring and feeling more awake.

  In the shower, he moves with urgency, fully focused on our mutual release. I’m pliable and mold into the object of his desire. I can see it burning in his eyes, his want for me. I’m a person I don’t know when I’m in his arms. I’m confident and aggressive. I need to learn to hold on to some of that outside of him.

  Despite our rushed lovemaking, we’re still late for dinner. I was hoping I could devote an extra five minutes to making myself look presentable. As usual, I’m wearing a wrinkled dress, and I finger comb my damp hair in the elevator.

  Before the doors open, Adam asks a question that somehow sucks any confidence I gained from me. “Are you sure you want to come?”

  My mouth drops before I can think. I close my mouth. “Do you not want me to come?”

  He hesitates, watching the doors open. Neither of us moves.

  “I don’t want you to feel bored.”

  I tilt my head at him, hearing the doors close. “Why would I be bored?”

  “Never mind,” he murmurs, pressing the button for the roof again.

  When we walk out, he doesn’t reach for my hand. I’ve become accustomed to him doing it, so it stings when he doesn’t. He makes a beeline for the bar as I follow three steps behind, trying to keep up. It reminds me of him losing me in the airport on our first day together.

  Next thing I know, he’s shaking her hand, introducing her to the void he assumes is me as I walk up. His eyes widen briefly as I extend my hand to her and introduce myself. Has he realized what he’s done? She takes her drink off the bar top and carries it with her as we’re seated. Her English is great, her accent charming.

  I watch as they laugh over inside jokes having to do with Twitter conversations and hashtags. I have no idea what they’re talking about.

  I use my lack of involvement in the conversation to study her. She has long, almost white blonde hair. It’s pulled back in a long ponytail and swung over one shoulder, hanging down to cover her breast. I wonder if it’s all her own hair or if she has extensions. Before my hair envy overpowers me, I watch her face, her expressions, as she speaks to Adam.

  She has an easy smile. I’m relieved that Adam, while seemingly happy, does not smile back. You have to earn those smiles. She has toothpaste commercial–ready teeth. I absentmindedly run my tongue across mine, wondering if they’re as white as hers.

  Her complexion is probably naturally fair, like mine, but she wears a healthy golden tan. She also wears a white sleeveless sheath dress. It sets off her tan and broadcasts the fact that she probably didn’t dribble her food and is brave enough to wear white while traveling.

  I don’t want to like her. I want her to be an annoying idiot who Adam cannot be mentally attracted to.

  But she’s lovely, intelligent, engagingly animated, as she shares her travel stories with us. Even when Adam excuses himself from our table and we’re alone together, she’s warm and seems genuinely interested in learning about me. Her worldliness picks at my internal insecurities. She’s been places. Sure, I have as well, but she’s gone to them by herself. She has a career and is self-sufficient.

  Her success amplifies my inadequacies in my mind. This trip is supposed to be a way for me to gain my independence, maybe even allow me to decide what I want to do with my life.

  Katya is working on her master’s degree in physiology with plans to pursue her doctorate. She’s smart, successful, beautiful, and interesting.

  After our meals are cleared, I start to wonder if I’m a third wheel. I excuse myself. I’m nothing but polite, telling her how nice it was to meet her.

  Leaning into Adam, I ask for our room key.

  As he passes it to me, I tell him, “Just knock, and I’ll—”

  He stops me. “You don’t have to. I brought both room keys just in case.”

  In case? My eyes flick to his, but he’s already turned his back to her.

  I finally admit to myself that I was testing him to see if he would come back with me. He failed. I say my good-byes and pout the whole way back to our room. We’re leaving China tomorrow and taking a red-eye flight to Australia.

  Our trip will be ending soon, and here I am, falling for him. I need to distance myself from him, from what we’re doing, before I get hurt any more than I already am.

  I have the hardest time falling asleep. I’m used to his presence, his scent, and his arms around me. I finally nod off a couple of hours later.

  I awake briefly to his gentle snore, his arm draped over me, before slipping back under. We talked about trying to see the Summer Palace today. His late night and forgetting to set the alarm allows us a lazy morning instead.

  I bite my tongue, wanting to ask what time he got in, curious at what happened after I left last night. My jealousy embarrasses me. This, us, is temporary. How together we seemed, our physical camaraderie, was just a side effect of traveling together.

  This morning, when he reaches for me, I pull away.

  He sits up. “Everything okay?”

  I nod, a nonverbal lie, and look away.

  “Come here.”

  He’s on to me.

  I inch closer to him but stay just out of his grasp. I watch his fingers flex, knowing he wants to touch me. I still want him to. I’m trying to be smart about this. We’ve already gone too far. I only want to protect myself.

  “Just tell me.” He shifts closer to me.

  I can’t meet his eyes, so I stare at my hands instead. “I just think maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

  “Aubrey, look at me.” He sounds confused.

  My eyes flick to his, and my mouth is suddenly dry. “We’re both going to be going our separate ways soon. It seems smart to stop now before either of us gets attached. You can be with other people.” I pause. “Like Katya.”

  He drops his head to rest on his fist, his elbow on his knee, and he just looks at me, like he is trying to figure me out. “What if I don’t want to stop? Katya is only a friend.”

  “But you stayed out with her last night. This”—I motion to the empty void between us—“is only delaying the inevitable,” I argue weakly, wondering what I am to him. I don’t want to stop either.

  He moves, pinning me to the mattress. “Nothing happened with her. Don’t you know I only have eyes for you?” He waggles his brows at me. “And we shouldn’t waste the time we have together.”

  “But I’m scared I’ll get hurt,” I admit, losing myself in his gray eyes.

  They darken. “I won’t hurt you.”

  I lift my lips to his in surrender, thinking that he doesn’t even know he already has.

  Afterward, we make our way to the double shower. Just as I have grown so used to falling asleep with him, I start to wonder if I can shower alone again without missing him. He washes me, his soapy hands gliding over every inch of me. He lets me wash
his hair. His hands are on my hips as I face him, hands in his hair.

  The first time I saw him, I thought he looked perfect. He isn’t though. His ears stick out a bit, and he has a wrinkle between his eyebrows from how often they come together. He has a faint farmer’s tan, and he doesn’t smile enough. He can be bossy and annoying. He likes doing things his way to a fault, but he’s also protective and gentle, even when he’s being rough.

  He doesn’t let me pull away when I try, and I’m in love with him.

  We have time to kill between our checkout and needing to be at the airport. We go to the airport and check in, just so we won’t have to carry our suitcases around with us, and then we have lunch. There are some half-day tours we think about trying but end up just staying at the airport.

  There are five flights leaving from our gate before ours. We find a couple of seats away from the blast of the air conditioning vent and hang out. Adam explores a gift shop at one point while I read. I’m not paying attention and jump when he reaches for my hand. He’s taken over finding charms for my bracelet. Today, he gives me two.

  “I wasn’t sure which you would like more,” he says, handing me a small pagoda and a watchtower.

  “I love them both,” I say truthfully, holding my hand out to him to attach them to my bracelet.

  He dips his mouth, dropping a kiss to the inside of my wrist, before letting my hand go.

  His sweet gesture unlocks my tongue. “Will you miss me when I’m gone?”

  He feigns confusion. “Going somewhere?”

  I lean against him, resting my head on his shoulder. “I’ll be back in California, and you’ll be in New York.”

  “But we’re both here right now.”

  Can it be that simple? Just living in the moment, no care or worry for what will happen tomorrow?

  I let it go and read my book. From his position behind me, he reads along. I don’t even know he’s doing it until he asks me to turn the page back, that he’s still on the last paragraph.

  I tilt my face back toward his. “Do you want me to catch you up?”

  “Seems to be a lot of sex. I think I’m caught up.”

  I blush. “It’s more than just sex.”

  He raises a brow. “If you say so. It’s cool. It’s kinda hot. You want me to tie you up too?”

  My mouth drops, but I don’t say no.

  He licks his lips before dropping his mouth to my ear. “Turn the page. I’m getting ideas.”

  We read together, pausing only when either of us gets up to grab some food or goes to the restroom and then when our plane starts boarding. Reading a hot book is one thing. Thinking everything that’s happening to the main character might happen to you is a whole different experience. I can’t remember the last time I finished a book as fast.

  Our flight is twelve hours. We’re able to sleep at least six each on the plane. When we land and once we’re through immigration, we head straight to our hotel. We have connecting rooms overlooking the harbor. Adam ignores his room, dropping his things in mine instead.

  We don’t have anything planned that day, other than wandering the city and enjoying the views of the harbor. I suggest we have drinks after dinner, but Adam seems in an awful hurry to get back to our room.

  It seems he does want to tie me up. Seated in the armchair that faces the bed, he asks that I strip. There’s a dresser with a large mirror above it behind him. I watch my own eyes widen. This is turning him on. From where I stand, I can see the bulge in his pants straining against the fabric. I step out of my flats, pushing them with one foot away from the bed. I have a gray cardigan on. I slide it off one shoulder and then the other, and I let it fall to the floor behind me.

  I unbutton my jeans, and then I slowly slide the zipper down. I turn, so my back is to him, and I bend at the waist as I ease them down my legs. I glance back at him and see him breathing heavily and shifting in his seat.

  I step out of my jeans and turn back to him as I start unbuttoning my shirt. I’m teasing him, going slowly from one button to the next. After I free the final button, I let my shirt hang open for a moment and look at him again.

  “Off,” he commands, his tone raising the tiny hairs on the back of my neck.

  I peel the shirt from my body and let it fall on top of my jeans. I start to reach to unclasp my simple white bra, but he gets up and strides over to me. He takes my hands and places them on his chest. I can feel the thump of his heart beneath his T-shirt. He slips one of my bra straps down, trailing its descent down my shoulder with his lips.

  I lean into him, my legs tingling. He repeats the motion and the trail of kisses on my other shoulder before spinning me so that my back is to him. He releases the back clasp, and my bra falls to the floor in front of me.

  I sag against his chest. His hands reach around to cup and toy with my breasts. Turning me again, he claims my lips, his hands now in my hair. My hands move to slip under his shirt. I want the weight of his chest pressed against mine.

  “Easy,” he murmurs onto my lips.

  He eases me onto the bed. I scoot back toward the pillows and watch him, mouth open, as he pulls off his shirt. His body is a thing of beauty. The tone of his chest, the definition of his abs and arms. I love touching him. Even now, my fingers itch to explore him.

  His eyes are locked on mine as he slowly slips his belt off. He doesn’t drop it to the floor like he did his shirt. He holds it in his hand, his jeans now sagging in a way that makes my mouth water, as he makes his way over to me.

  I watch, almost detached, as he binds my hands together and then secures the belt to the headboard.

  “But I like touching you,” I argue even though I’m excited.

  He lies between my legs, holding himself up over me. “I know you do.”

  He lowers his lips to my rib cage. It makes me think of him as the first man again, inspecting his stolen rib through my skin. His mouth moves lower to tease the hem of my underwear. It’s funny to think the quick-dry ones my mother ordered from a catalog turn him on as much as they do. Maybe it’s because the material is so thin. He kisses me through them, burying his face between my thighs. It’s amazing but not enough. He’s teasing me.

  I don’t want that strip of material between us. I want his lips on my skin. I buck my hips against him, groaning in protest. If my hands were free, I could just take off my own underwear, but I’m at his mercy. He can toy with me as long as he wants.

  I know he’s turned on though, so I plead, “Please, Adam. God, I want you so bad right now.”

  He looks up at me, tilting his head to the side, his fingers stroking the skin above my underwear. “But you wanted to stop.”

  I can’t believe he’s bringing that up. “I don’t want to stop.”

  “Are you sure? Because if you do…” His voice trails off.

  My body is practically humming with want. I throw my head back and squeeze my eyes shut. The way he turns my words against me, reminding me that I tried to stop us, stings. I don’t understand why the idea of us going our separate ways is already killing me. Bound, unable to touch him, knowing soon I’ll never be able to touch him, is too much for me.

  He knows something is wrong. He crawls up my body and sees my eyes pinched shut. He frees my hands from his belt before pulling me into his arms.

  “I wasn’t trying to upset you,” he whispers before kissing me.

  My hands drown in the feel of him, roaming shamelessly over his shoulders and down his back. “I just need to touch you right now.”

  “Okay,” he murmurs, pushing me onto my back.

  His earlier patience is lost. He attacks me, and I’m overwhelmed by the pleasure in my surrender. His lips search for mine as he fills me. We cling to each other, spent.

  “I was supposed to be watching my cousin.”

  I look up at him and see rain clouds in his eyes. I don’t say anything. I just let him keep speaking.

  “I was seventeen, and my uncle’s house was on the river. There was a p
lace where we used to swim but always with one of our parents watching.”

  He drops his head to my shoulder and takes a shaky breath. “I had just turned seventeen, so they thought I was old enough to watch the younger ones. There were five of us out there that day. I was helping one of them out of the water when she went under. I hadn’t seen her swim that far from the dock. The river was high, the current a lot faster than normal. My cousin, Mandy, got stuck in it. I tried to reach her, swim after her, but I was so slow. I couldn’t get to her in time. She was ten.”

  I pull him closer, wrapping my arms around him.

  “I lost the weight after that.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” I whisper.

  He lifts his head, his eyes haunted. “I know that now. It’s just…I was supposed to be watching them.”

  I kiss him, and we hold each other. I run my fingers through his hair, reeling at his confession. I do the math in my head, realizing that the cousin who died was born the same year own his mother had died. What a horrible, tragic coincidence.

  We’re up early the next morning for our excursion, a guided day tour. Neither of us mentions his confession from the night before. I don’t know what to say to him.

  Our pickup for the bus is near our hotel. We sit together near the middle and watch as the bus fills up at each stop. Our first stop is a hands-on wildlife park an hour outside of Sydney.

  I’ve always been an animal lover, so I’m in heaven. The animals in the section of the park we’re in are tame. It’s an exotic petting zoo. Adam is in full-on paparazzi mode as he takes my picture with all of them.

  A young koala steals my heart as he clings to my chest. One of the guides explains this koala is nicknamed Sparky. He was displaced from his natural habitat by a wildfire. He’s here in this park to be rehabilitated and hopefully released into the wild.

  We explore one enclosure after another to see animals native to Australia. There’s one interactive enclosure where we get to feed kangaroos. For some reason, they prefer me over Adam. They make him so nervous that he takes most of his pictures of them from outside their enclosure.