Page 40 of Beautifully Wild

“I will.”

Then his open mouth claims mine. The kiss is needy, and I can’t shake the feeling it’s a last kiss.

A goodbye.

He walks me back until my knees hit the bed, and I’m lifted onto the mattress, losing my clothes and my thoughts to his passion.

I shiver despite the tropical air basking us in a light film of sweat. His touch is gentle, his eyes unwavering except to study my body in appreciation. Running my hands through his fair hair, I grip the ends and whimper when he sucks on my breast.

He lifts his gaze and stares at me as if he sees me for the first time. “I want you so badly.”

I bring my mouth close to his, so we share the same breathing space. “And I want you. Now. So please don’t stop.”

“I’m not going to stop,” he says in a low, deep voice. “In fact, I intend to make love to you all night long.”

Everything about him feels so right. We can’t end after tonight. When we’re together, it’s like nothing else in the world matters. The feeling of freedom I have with him is like nothing I’ve ever experienced, and tonight is even more of a reason to absorb everything he has to offer.

“Fine by me,” I murmur and bring his lips to mine.

22

Eden

AsIrollover,my arm reaches out, searching.

It takes a moment for me to acknowledge its morning and the empty space beside me.

I sit up. Like yesterday, I assume Samuel has slipped out to get us morning coffee.

I pad my way across white tiles to the bathroom and notice the absence of his toiletries. I let it absorb for a moment. A heavy feeling grows in my chest. We’re both leaving today.

After washing my hands and splashing water on my face, I head back into the bedroom, deciding whether to wait for him in bed or get dressed so we can have breakfast together. The closet door is ajar. I have no idea why, and yet I open it, and every bit of air rushes in and then out of my lungs.

I spin and find no sign of a packed case. “Not again,” I moan.

No, this can’t be happening.

My heart is thumping in my chest as I open and close every closet. Every drawer. I look to the kitchenette, and on the bench is a note.

My chest tightens, knowing what it says without even reading it. The hopeful side of me whispers it’s a note explaining he’s getting me a coffee. I read the first line andhopecan go to hell.

I don’t get past the first three lines before I screw up the letter and throw it at the wall. “You bastard,” I scream.

A note, a text message—it’s all the same.

Gutless.

I dress in the same clothes from last night, grab my clutch and key, and dash out without closing the door behind me.

Passing families on the path as they head to breakfast, I keep my head down and swipe at my tears, hoping I don’t look like the fool I am. I swallow down the emotional lump scratching the back of my throat before it explodes inside my chest.

I need my girls.

Then it dawns on me.

Did Yasmine know?

My gaze shoots up to the door in sight, and I run, ignoring strange looks as I gasp for air. In one smooth action, I turn the knob and push the door open with more force than usual.

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