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“That’s very Clark Casablanca of you,” I said, turning my gaze toward him.

We looked at each other for a long beat and I was dying for him to lean down and kiss me again and shift the course of our conversation, of our night, away from these painful memories toward better things.

I needed to lose myself in the depth of his icy blue eyes, trace the line of his sharp jaw, feel his strong hands on my body.

I pulled in a breath to calm myself. There was an ethereal sort of glow on his skin, and he must’ve seen it on me too, because we both turned our gazes skyward when we figured out what it was.

The sight of the bands of green and pinkish purple dancing above us overwhelmed me.

Huck opened the sleeping bag and spread it on the sand, and we lay on our backs and watched the sky, nestled close out of necessity, for warmth.

At least, that’s what I told myself as I tried to ignore the anticipation undulating over my skin between each point of connection—a bit of hip, an arm wrapped over a shoulder, my head on his chest.

“How’s that for reminding us of our place in the universe?” he said.

“Exactly.” I felt like I was precisely where I was supposed to be in the world at that moment. With Huck on the dark sand at the beginning of something monumental.

We twined our fingers together, his thumb slowly stroking mine. We didn’t speak, we didn’t need to. We watched the beautiful sky and held each other. At some point, he propped himself above me on one elbow. I liked the view of him there, eclipsing just a bit of the splendor in the night sky.

I reached up and brushed the dark hair out of his eyes.

“Maybe your next thing will be better than you could’ve imagined.

Maybe Clark Casablanca left the country.

Rebecca escaped her captors and fled to Iceland, where they met in a little hole in the wall and then found treasure behind a waterfall,” I said, breathless.

Huck brushed a hand over my cheek. “Interesting idea.” His voice was gravel, low and rough against my neck, as he brushed his lips over my skin.

“But I’m not Clark. And you’re not Rebecca.

” I might have deflated in this moment, but the way Huck looked at me when he pulled back made that impossible.

“She’d never crawl into a stone wall in the dark and pull out an ancient axe. ”

“Smart girl,” I said.

He shook his head, a half smile carving a dimple into his cheek.

“She’s fictional. And you’re real. You’re the realest person I’ve ever met, Stella.

I’ve never known anyone like you. You’re incredible.

Honestly, I don’t think I would’ve been able to write you, even if I tried,” he said, his voice raspy.

My chest flooded with anticipation. Huck leaned closer.

I focused on the sound of his breathing.

The quiet rhythm of the ocean waves. The drumbeat of my heart.

“Maybe this is a crazy thing to say, but I feel like you and I were supposed to meet. I was lost here, and you found me.” Underneath the wool blanket, he slid one hand around my waist just beneath the edge of my fleece.

The fingertips of his other hand glided around the back of my neck and stopped near my tattoo.

At his touch on my bare skin, my nerve endings ignited.

I couldn’t resist anymore, even if I wanted to.

“We found each other,” I said, and then pressed my mouth to his.

The frenetic passion we’d had in the living room came rushing back all at once. Huck’s hand drifted beneath my shirt, over the bare skin of my ribs.

“Is this alright?” he asked.

It was so much more than alright. So much .

But I could only pull my thoughts together enough to nod and sigh into him, and he moved on, discarding my shirt beside us, tracing up over the curves of my breasts, across my collarbones, then down to the rise of my hip in one tantalizingly slow motion.

He lowered his lips to my skin, following the path he’d marked with his hands earlier with painstaking attention.

Heat pooled in my core; my breath hitched in my chest. He unbuttoned my pants and helped me pull them off.

Until now I’d been passive, wound up, caught up in the way he was making me feel, but now I craved him too.

I pushed his shirt up over his head and he shucked off his pants, while I ran my hands over his firm torso, marveling at how strong and solid he was.

I pulled him against me, bare chest to bare chest, only the thin layer of our underwear between us.

There was no denying how our bodies reacted to this closeness.

Mine ached for his. We brought our hands down between us, exploring each other tentatively at first, while we learned what the other liked, the places that would make him groan when I gripped, the spot that made me pant when he brushed over it in lazy circles.

I thanked our lucky Northern Lights that I always carried protection in my backpack and handed one to him wordlessly.

“I want this so bad,” I confessed.

“Me too,” Huck said, hovering over me for just a moment. “I need you, Stella.”

The exquisite pressure, the way we fit together, matched and anticipated each other, fell into a gorgeous rhythm that built and built, up, and up, and up until oh my god —it was so right that I almost thought I created the whole thing in my head, like one beautiful dream remembered for a moment right before waking, before it slipped away.

We caught our breath afterward, still wrapped up in each other, a happy, satisfied tangle of legs and arms, and big feelings that should’ve scared me.

Normally, they would have. Huck smoothed my hair from my forehead and left a gentle kiss on my lips.

“I’m falling for you so hard, Stella Moore,” he said.

I couldn’t help but grin. “Me too.” I buried my head against his chest and stifled a delighted groan as he clutched me to him tighter than before.