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Then he kissed me, and my mouth filled with a delicate, clean ocean flavor, like the air after a storm. It was our first time, and when he pushed inside me, my mind came apart. My soul shifted, and I was forever changed.

I was forever his.

The flutters begin in the arches of my feet, and he kisses his way up my stomach.

“Jackson… Jackson…” I can’t stop chanting his name as I thread my fingers in his soft hair.

At last his mouth covers mine. At last we’re one.

“Ember…” His mouth breaks away with a groan, and I lean up to run my tongue along the ridges of his neck. Salt water…

I lick his Adam’s apple up to his square jaw.

Rough stubble scratches my tongue.

My legs are around his waist and we’re working together, chasing that glorious release. He stretches me and fills me, massages me so deeply, I feel it the moment I start to break apart.

“Oh!” My fingers tighten on his back as every muscle in my body clenches…

Tighter…

Tighter…

Then Yes!

Glitter gun showers of pleasure flooding my insides.

“Yes,” he groans, and I feel him finish deep inside of me.

Our bodies unite, but at the same time we’re flying apart as waves of ecstasy fill our veins. It’s magical like the ocean, silvery water tipped in moonlight.

We kiss softly now, rich and gentle, over and over. His tongue touches my upper lip, and he pulls the bottom one between his teeth. Red-hot cinnamon…

We’re breathing hard, and he slides a hand under my ass, turning us without ever losing contact, so I’m sitting in a straddle across his lap.

My dress is around my waist, and moonlight touches the tips of my breasts. We hold each other, skin against skin.

A hot tear spills down my cheek.

I’m not full-on crying. I’ll save the ugly tears for tomorrow when he’s gone. Instead, I find his blue eyes.

Dark brows quirk together, and he kisses my nose. “You’re crying?”

My voice cracks with a whisper. “Aren’t you sad?”

“I’m only going to college, Em. I’m not going to war.”

“But we won’t see each other for months.”

I don’t say what’s truly scaring me. I don’t voice the fear that I, a mere high schooler, couldn’t possibly hold onto him.

He’s traveling far away to where the girls are more mature, more experienced, more sophisticated.

“You’re right,” he nods. “It’s going to suck. Especially when I want to kiss you.”

He pulls me flush against his chest and groans deeply. Strong arms circle my shoulders, and I cling to him.

“But it’s not something to cry about,” he argues. “You’re my girl, Em. That’s never going to change.”