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I towel off and slather myself in the complimentary lotion, then use the toothbrush I find in the small bag that Luke gave me back on the dock. It’s typically man-practical, with little besides some toiletries, underwear, and a couple changes of clothes, but I’m grateful for that much.

More than anything inside the bag, after so many months of institutionalized living, it’s sheer, unadulterated luxury to revel in the open-air shower. To smell saltwater and incense instead of a hundred other women and the dank, forbidding scent of the Myanmar jungle.

And to feel happiness.

Above all else, it’s that. I know this place is nothing more than a brief reprieve, one that could be shattered at any minute by Rodrigo’s men—or worse, Jacey’s.

But it’s still a reprieve.

One I’m sharing with Dimitry.

After months of feeling nothing but utter despair, the long night of watching his slow smile through the holes in the canvas as we slipped back into our old, easy banter has caused happiness to spring to life inside me like an effervescent fountain.

And I just want to enjoy it. For as long as I can.

I wrap myself in a sarong and head out to the veranda, where Dimitry is sitting with his bare feet crossed on the railing and an empty beer bottle on the ground beside him as he works his way through a second. A tray of some delicious-smelling curry is sitting on the table between us.

“Sorry, but I couldn’t wait,” he says, nodding at his empty bowl as I sit down. “And besides, I wasn’t sure if you’d ever get out of that shower.” I make a face at him, and he grins. “It tastes so good it will ruin Thai restaurants for life,” he warns as I tuck in.

“At least you got the mimosa bit right.” I take a decent slug and almost faint with pleasure. I don’t know that any drink has ever tasted as good as the cheap champagne mixed with boxed orange juice, taken on a sunny morning in an obscure Thai backwater.

It’s because it tastes like freedom,I think dreamily, savoring every mouthful of the delicious food.Not even the world’s most expensive cocktail could taste better than this.

“I’m going to let you finish that,” Dimitry says, “and go take a shower. I’ve spent the last few nights on the floor of a one-roomed apartment, jammed in between Luke and Pete. And, no offense to your father, but that tough old bastard farts worse than an elephant.”

I almost snort my mimosa right out as he passes me. My heart curls when I see Dimitry’s answering half smile. His hand touches my shoulder lightly, the touch rippling through me in a slow, delicious thrill.

I finish my curry, which is even more sublime than Dimitry promised, and put the tray at the end of the walkway. Then I sit down on the veranda, turn my face up to the sun, close my eyes, and inhale the sweet, precious scent of liberation.

I’m so busy feeling liberated that I drift off and barely notice when Dimitry lifts me from the lounger and lays me down in the bed.

I’m lostin a dream so delicious I don’t want to wake. I know that when I swim back to consciousness, I will be on a bunk at SK, surrounded by concrete and depression.

In my dream, it’s late afternoon, and a soft breeze sweet with salt and frangipani caresses my skin.

Best of all, Dimitry’s hard body is sprawled next to my own. I’m lying half across him, one of my legs flung across his, my head buried in the wall of his chest. My hips move slowly against him, sensual arousal flooding my body as I feel him harden beneath me.

I can feel myself swimming toward the surface, leaving sleep behind. My aching body pulses with the need for release. I fight to stay in my dream, to stay lost in paradise.

No,I cry silently.No, please . . .

“Abby.”

My eyes fly open.

A hard wall of chest rises and falls beneath my cheek. One large hand cradles my head.

And a thick, hard shaft is positioned right beneath my swollen pussy.

It’s not just my leg thrown over Dimitry’s. My entire body is splayed across his. Somewhere during sleep, I lost the sarong altogether. Given Dimitry’s fierce arousal, his trousers have clearly met the same fate. And by the way my hips are slowly grinding against his pounding hard-on, my body has clearly decided to make the most of the situation, whether I’m in control of it or not.

“I’ve got you, Skip.” Dimitry’s voice is low and rough. Themaddening touch of his hand continues soothing my head. “It’s just a dream. You’re safe.”

I freeze. I don’t dare move.

I certainly can’t look at him.

But there’s no hiding the state my body is in, any more than there’s no ignoring the savage thrust of Dimitry’s cock. He’s holding himself rigidly still, clearly unwilling to jolt me from sleep.