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His whispered words belatedly register in my ears. A queer calm drifts through me, stilling my thoughts, while an equally potent spike of adrenaline makes my heart race, my breath shallow, and my fingertips tingle.

“Truth or dare, Leo?”

His head snaps down. “What?”

“You heard me.”

A pause, then a whisper of, “Don’t do this.”

I’m a horrible person. A slave to impulse. A user and a breaker, and he’s the ultimate prize. There’s a high chance that if I push this—push him until he shatters—he’ll never forgive me. Or himself. Then again, it’s not like we have a future together. And he’s leaving in four days.

What to do… What to do… New, healthy Amelia? Or old, impulsive Amelia?

Four days.

My chest tightens at the thought of never seeing him again. I can’t do it—I can’t not. So I end up answering the question for him. For both of us.

“Dare.”

I push from the rock and stand. Water sluices from my chest, my wet hair. Cool air tightens my nipples and lifts goose bumps. But none of those sensations compare to what I feel when I see the look on Leo’s face.

Agony.

The proof of his desire brings such relief my knees almost buckle. I take a weak step forward, then another. There’s a slight slope to where he sits, and the water drops below my navel. His gaze restlessly scans every moonlit inch of me that’s revealed. Fierce need tightens his features, echoed by bunched shoulders and hands that I know are coiled into fists beneath the water.

“I didn’t imagine it,” I whisper.

“No, you didn’t,” he says hoarsely, like the admittance is painful. I’m certain it is, but I can’t process how fucked up this is because my joy is so immense.

I take another step, every second stretching to a hundred as I capture every detail. The rapid rise and fall of his chest. Clenched jaw. Sweat beading on his brow. Lowered brows over eyes that look silver in the moonlight. Warm breeze, cool air, hot water, pulse fluttering and swollen between my legs. I vow to remember this forever.

On my last step, my thighs brush against his knees. Two seconds pass—an eternity—before his legs slowly part. One more surrender, one more crack. I stay where I am and lift a hand to his face, dancing my fingers down his jaw to his mouth. His lips part and my index finger slides inside. He sucks the tip, then bites it.

I almost collapse again.

“Leo,” I whimper.

He shatters.

His hands find my hips, yanking me forward. My knees are wrenched apart, then my ass claimed as he pulls me atop him. My senses fragment, overcome. Hot skin slick against mine, his fingers tangled in my hair. A hiss from his lips as I rub against him, teasing us both. Thick. Hard. Long.

I bite his neck, then lick his earlobe and murmur, “How can something that feels so good be wrong?”

His teeth find my shoulder, clamping hard enough that I jerk. Pain pushes my pleasure higher. I’m so close to climaxing, it would be funny under different circumstances.

“Maybe it’s good because it’s wrong,” he whispers against my skin. “Maybe you’ve rubbed off on me.”

“You don’t believe that.”

His hand, anchored in my hair, drags my head back until he can look me in the eyes. Our faces are so close I feel his breath on my lips, which tingle in anticipation of tasting him again.

“Tell me the truth,” I plead mindlessly.

His fingers tighten, spreading fiery sensation through my scalp. “The truth? Fine. I’ve wanted you from the first moment I saw you. Damn you, Amelia. Damn your sarcasm, your lies, your eyes that tell me more than your mouth ever has, your scent that drives me crazy, and your beautiful, wounded heart. You’re goddamn perfect and I’m going straight to hell.”

And he kisses me.

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