We'd like to welcome our passengers to Flight 1923, heading to Miami, Florida. As soon as we have everyone aboard, we'll push back and head out. This is a short flight, so just sit back, relax, and we'll be to your destination in no time.

"We should have just driven to Miami and flown straight there. We've got, what, an hour layover and another hour or so to the island?"

Keith and Bridget are seated behind JC and I. Keith, who hates to fly but does it all the time for his job, is already grumbling.

"Hey man," says JC, half turning in his seat, "Order a beer and shut the fuck up. This was the best priced flight we could find. You sprang for first class, so you're not doing too badly."

"Just means my airline miles are good for something."  I hear him settle into his seat and mutter something to Bridget about in-flight drinks. She responds with something about not being belligerent before we even take off.  

We've taken up the last two rows in first class. Several members of our traveling party are behind us in coach seats, including Tyler and Jade. Others, like Morgan and Nick's parents, insisted on flying in Monday, attending the wedding on Tuesday, and flying back out Wednesday evening. They didn't want to encroach upon the honeymoon and no amount of arguing and trying to convince them that it was more of a group vacation would change their minds.

Morgan and Nick, the happy couple, are chattering away at each other. The pitch and tone of their voices betray their excitement and this warms my heart. The entire ordeal-planning this wedding with JC and trying to make it a special event for everyone involved-- was so worth the effort. Seeing the smiles on their faces now, and being able to watch Morgan walk down the aisle... that was all I wanted for her. For them.

Seated next to me is JC, as relaxed and comfortable as I've ever seen him. His hands are clasped over the latch of his seat belt. His legs are stretched out in front of him, feet crossed over one another. His head is tipped back against the seat and his eyes are closed, but the bob of his Adam's apple and the roving movement underneath his eyelids give him away.

Suddenly one eye opens and he rolls his head in my direction. "Yes? Can I help you?"

"Nope. I'm fine."

"Stop staring at me," he mutters.

"How do you know I'm staring at you? Your eyes are closed."

"Were you staring at me?"  I smile. "Mmmhmmm. Don't worry about how I know. I just know."

I stifle a laugh and direct my attention to the world outside of the tiny oblong window. The aircraft is full and the flight attendants are making preflight announcements, then the lights in the cabin are turned down and the plane begins to back away from the terminal.

I check my seat belt, then sit back and wait for takeoff. I can hardly believe we're actually on a plane, headed to St. Lucia. This trip, four months in the making, has changed my life.

Four months ago...hell, four days ago I was a different person. I remember that night at Prime, seething next to a man I absolutely hated, had hated from the pit of my soul for the last decade and more. I listened as my best friends sentenced me to spending a considerable amount of time with him planning what was supposed to be a joyous event, but what I could only see as torture and punishment from two people who just ‘didn't get it'.

I pouted. I cursed. I tried to talk, argue, wiggle my way out of it. I'm an attorney, for goodness sake; I should have been good at that. But so is JC, and he couldn't get out of it, either. They - Nick and Morgan-- were unrelenting. This was their last ditch effort at getting us to put aside our petty differences  and see what must have been a bright, blinking flashing sign for everyone else, for so long. 

I never worked so well with someone I can't stand. I hate to admit it, but it was the perfect project for JC and I. Romantic details and keeping Morgan's wants and dreams was my priority. JC tracked the budget, took care of the unromantic details like what airline we should fly and what kind of alcohol should be served, and kept the wedding from going off of the pink-and-purple-taffeta-and-frilly-hearts deep end. I've spent most of our planning time counting the days to being able to wake up to waves crashing on the shore and digging my toes into warm sand and picking up sea shells and island trinkets. I never would have come up with the idea to go to St. Lucia.

I glance over and stare at JC again, despite him telling me to stop. I can't help it. We haven't been apart since Thursday, since the day he came to my apartment and then wouldn't leave without me. And I've loved every second of being with him. We've talked about everything and nothing, cooked together, drank together, sat together around the fire pit and watched the sun sink behind the mountains on the other side of Lake Conway-a view I finally don't have to pretend is there.

This morning, I woke up in his bed, in his arms, with the sun streaming in through the glass patio doors and a light October breeze blowing through the open window. I felt the scratch of his beard against my cheek, neck and shoulder as he nudged me awake. I smiled and burrowed deeper, pushing back against him snuggled up next to me. I just wanted to savor the moment, the quiet of the room, the peace and serenity between us. These past four days have been the happiest I've had in a very long time. I want to hold onto these moments as long as I can and hope they last. Hope there really is still a chance for us.

Three hours later, we are deplaning at George F. L. Charles Airport, the smaller of two airports on St. Lucia. The flight from Miami was cramped but quick on a small commuter plane. The airport, surrounded by trees and furnished with a single runway and two hangars, looks more like what would be called a county airport in Orlando, reserved for two-seaters and crop dusters. On St. Lucia, this is a major travel way to and from the U.S.

Once our group has gathered into a small mass of tourists and we've retrieved our baggage, we step outside into the sunshine to wait for the shuttle from Rendezvous. The breeze, heavy with salt, is warm on my face as the sun beats down. The weather Gods have blessed us-- the skies are a gorgeous royal blue, dotted with wispy, lazy clouds.  It's a beautiful day to be on an island.

"I can't wait to hit that beach," says Jackie. She rubs her protruding belly as Matt rubs her back.

"You okay, Jacks?" 

She nods, her chubby face split in a wide grin. "Perfect. This is really nice. I'm looking forward to this week. Matt and I never took a honeymoon."

"Well now you get your honeymoon and your babymoon all in one trip."

"What's a babymoon?" Tyler asks. He and Jade are hanging back, on the fringes of the group. She's behind him like she's hiding from us, arms crossed, shades on. There's still tension between the four of us-JC, me, Tyler and Jade. I make a note to grab him and have a heart-to-heart. Hopefully we can put everything behind us and enjoy this week.

"It's a trip new parents take before the baby comes," says Keith. He's playing with his phone, squinting at it and pressing buttons. "You know, before sex means putting on The Little Mermaid and sneaking off to the bedroom to get in five minutes before there's a kid asking for grape juice."

"Keith and I went to... where was it honey? Before Grant was born?"

"Bahamas. Then the Keys before Lucy. Are we supposed to get service down here?"

Bridget grabs the phone and they bicker softly over whether or not they changed their phone plan to International before leaving the country. I glance at JC, standing next to me, his hands resting on the handle of his suitcase. 

"Stepford," he mouths, with a straight face. I'm trying not to laugh.

I see what looks like a bus rumbling down the road, a big blue RENDEZVOUS emblazoned down the side. "This must be our ride," I announce. The crowd titters as we gather our bags and line up at the edge of the sidewalk.

The shuttle pulls up next to us and a very tall, very handsome man gets up from the driver's seat and steps down the stairs. "Welcome to St. Lucia," he says, in a voice I recognize. It's Andrew, the gentleman we booked with and have been working with to plan the wedding and excursions.

His face matches his voice, if that makes any sense. His hair and eyes are dark, his skin the most beautiful color of toasted cinnamon. He's wearing a spotless, crisp white linen suit and sandals and he stands, hands clasped, as if he is our butler, ready to serve.

"I'm looking for Angie and Joshua," he says, seeming to announce it, his eyes scanning the crowd. Everyone points to JC and I.  He rushes forward to shake our hands and smile in our faces. "Welcome. It's wonderful to meet you in person. And the bride and groom?"

JC and I point to Nick and Morgan, standing next to us with their arms around each other and grins two miles wide. He repeats the glad-handing with them and then steps back to survey the group.

"Do we have everyone then?" At our nods, he claps, then moves to open a compartment under the shuttle. "Leave your suitcases here, if you will. Then feel free to find a seat on the bus so we can make the trip to the resort. It's about a forty minute ride, so please take anything with you that you'll need before we arrive."

We all leave our suitcases and carryon baggage on the sidewalk in front of the bus. JC pulls me aside. "This guy's not dressed for loading up suitcases. I'll stay out here and help. Save me a seat."

I scowl. "There's like thirty seats on the bus, and we're the only people on it. You shouldn't have trouble finding a seat." He stares at me like I grew a second head. Until I wink. Relief washes over his face. He winks back, then sighs and turns to help Andrew load the bus.

Game on.

I find a seat towards the rear of the bus and settle in, a small bag in my lap. In my tank top, shorts and slip on sneakers, I'm ready to hit the water as soon as humanly possible. I talked JC into wearing shorts and a short-sleeved shirt. The shirt is tight and clings to his shoulders, forearms and chest. Once we're on the island, even if I can't touch him, I can enjoy looking at him. And taking it off later.

JC and Andrew finally climb onto the bus, and without even glancing my way JC takes a seat several rows in front of me, right behind Keith and Bridget. The occasional laughter and random comment floats back to me but for the most part, I'm by myself. As far as anyone else knows, I'm the only single woman on the trip.  

The roads in St Lucia are paved but not well maintained. The bus bumps along, irrespective of divots and downright pot holes, barreling forward toward the horizon and the peek of blue sea.

The closer we come to civilization, the better the roads get, until we're on a smooth, dark, newly paved road. After what feels like forever, the bus slows as it turns onto a road that takes us between two wide white stone walls. On either side of the wall is a large sign that reads RENDEZVOUS in blue block letters.

The roads inside the gate are cobblestone and it looks like the paths that lead from one building to another are as well. As far as the eye can see, there are white stone structures with bright red roofs, all backing up to pristine white sands and the most beautiful blue waters I've ever seen.

I'm starting to get excited. I've lived in Florida, on the edge of an ocean my whole life, but there's something about a tropical island that fills me with anticipation. Being here with JC will be like icing on my favorite cake. 

The bus stops in front of a red brick building. We pile out, wandering around, taking in the view. I just can't believe we're finally here!

JC helps Andrew unload the suitcases and we are led inside the building and into a small meeting room. Andrew disappears for a few moments and we all take seats around the table, oval in shape, made of a thick wood covered in shiny black lacquer.

Andrew returns, his arms full of folders. "Your reservations are ready," he says, laying them all out in front of him.

"Each set of buildings here are separated into communities. You'll find these easily marked long the footpath across the resort, as well as on the maps included in each folder. For our wedding couple, we've placed you in a beachfront suite in our Verandah Community. It's completely private and tucked away, featuring a private pool and Butler service."

The group ooh's and aah's as he hands the folder to Morgan, who stares, slack jawed, at the resort brochure and description of their room. I peek over her shoulder, though I've seen the photos on the website and JC and I booked the room.

Andrew hands out folders to the rest of the group. Everyone is pretty well spread out, but no further than a few minutes' walk or golf cart ride from each other. All of the couples have private beachfront suites, smaller than Nick and Morgan's but larger than the luxury single that Tyler and Jade and JC and I will be in.

"Last but not least, and by special request, I have two Penthouse Club level rooms in a villa that we call Lover's Lagoon. These are for your trip planners Angie Blake and Joshua Chasez."

Andrew hands a folder to me and slides one down the table to JC. I glance at JC, who seems just as puzzled as I do. We booked single rooms, not suites. 

I lift my gaze from the folder, stuffed with information, a map, and excursion brochures and photos of a decadent and luxurious room to find Morgan staring at me.  "You did this," I say, waving the folder in the air. She grins brighter, wider. There's my answer. "You didn't have to do this, Morgan. This trip is for you guys. Just getting to come along was enough."

"We wanted to. To say thanks for everything." She angles herself to the left so she can see JC, slouching in a chair at the end of the table, his folder open in his hands. "Both of you. We just want you guys to have a really, really good time."

Tyler stands and stretches, yawning loudly. "I'm ready for a beach chair, a beer and a nap. Can we check in right now?"

"Key cards are inside your folders. Take them with you wherever you go. This resort is all inclusive, however you will need to use the card if you choose to dine in any of our fine restaurants or visit any of our local bars. Please make yourselves at home and if you are in need of anything, I am available at any time.  Welcome to Rendezvous." Andrew smiles and steps back, releasing us to the wild.

Nick stands, raising a hand to grab everyone's attention. "Hey, before anybody in the wedding party leaves, just a couple of notes. No plans tonight, chill out, relax and explore the island. Tomorrow morning, the guys are golfing-"

"And the girls are having a Spa Brunch," Morgan interjects.

"Right. Then tomorrow afternoon we have the wedding rehearsal and tomorrow night is the rehearsal dinner. Just a heads up, about the schedule."

Keith is messing with his phone again. "When's the wedding again?"

"Tuesday, two o'clock," JC says. "But don't worry about sticking that in your phone. You won't miss it. In fact, put your phone away. Turn it off. Enjoy yourself, man."

Grumbling, Keith follows instruction and zips the phone away in his bag. "Doesn't work anyway. Probably just spent three hundred dollars trying to open the calendar app."

"We provide free wifi across the resort and there are computers in the business center of every community are available for use," Andrew says.

"Which nobody will be using, because we're on vacation. We can unplug for a few days, right?"

"Hell yes." I stand and grab my folder and my map. "I'm going to find my room," I announce, and wheel my bags out of the conference room.

I'm just outside the building and a few steps down the walkway when I hear the roll of wheels behind me. I know it's JC, but I don't turn around. 

"Hey what's your room number?" I stop and check the number printed on the front of the folder.

"Lover's Lagoon, building three, room 864. You?"

"862. Just like I thought." JC catches up to me and pulls his bag upright, leaning on the handle.

"What, just like you thought?"

"They called and switched our rooms. Put us in the Lover's Lagoon or whatever in rooms right next to each other."

"Yeah, Morgan owned up to that, like five minutes ago. So?"  The part of my brain that makes up things to worry about starts to churn. I'm highly paid to worry. "You don't... don't think they're on to us, do you?"

JC shakes his head. "Nah. I think they think they're still pushing us together."

"Oh." I'm both relieved and disappointed. It's actually killing me to not at least tell Morgan that I'm back with JC. Now we really have to carry this out all week. "They're not very good at this, are they?"

"I know, right?"

I grin. "They totally did us a favor."

His grin matches mine, amped up by a twinkle in his eyes. "In a villa, off by ourselves..."

"In rooms next to each other..."

He snickers. "As if we're going to use both of them."

"You think it would freak them out if they knew we were sleeping together?"

"I don't know," he says, walking ahead of me, pulling his suitcase behind him. "I think they want this to work. I don't know if they expect it to work."

My bags and I follow closely behind. "Gonna blow their minds when it comes out."

"Let's not think about that right now. Let's think about skinny dipping in our pool."

"And romantic dinners on our private balcony."

"Oh, and let's not forget sex in a luxury Penthouse bed."

"Can't leave that out. It's the most important part."

JC stops and turns until he's facing me, an odd expression clouding his face. "No," he says, shaking his head slowly. "The most important part is getting you to tell me you love me before we leave this island."

With that, he turns around and marches down the cobblestone path, his bag bumping along every crack until we reach the entrance to our villa, Lover's Lagoon. The community is a short trip of four white stone buildings, each joined by a skywalk above and a path below. The rooftops are dotted with patio tables, wide, sun blocking umbrellas and outdoor bars.

"We're in building three," I call ahead. JC leads us toward the building marked with a large white number three. We meet at the entrance, walk under the arched doorway and through the glass revolving door into a what looks like a typical hotel lobby-front desk along one wall, bank of elevators just past the front desk.

Since we don't have to check in, we head straight for the elevators and punch the number ‘8' for our floor. The cube smoothly lifts us from the ground floor to the 8th floor and the door slides open again. We step out into the widest, most brightly lit hallway I've ever seen in a hotel.

The carpets are a bright red floral pattern with ribbons of green and gold winding throughout and around each bloom. We follow the repeating pattern until we come to our rooms at the end of the hallway.

"That's you," JC says, nodding his head toward the end unit. "I'm right here. Just like we thought, right next to each other."

I pluck my card from its slot in the folder and slide it through the card reader. Next door, I hear JC do the same. With a click and a beep, the door unlocks, so I turn the handle and step into the suite. "Holy.... Shit," I whisper, just barely breathing.

The room is absolutely beautiful, from sparkling white tile floors to the ceiling fan slowly spinning, circulating island air and cool sea breezes. The floors are covered with a decadent oriental rugs under the plush white couch and  the dark wood coffee table at one end of the room, and the enormous and elegant walnut four poster bed on the other end. There is a matching five drawer bureau and a nightstand on either side of the bed and a large flat screen TV mounted on the wall, easily viewable from the bed or the couch.

"This room is so amazing," I say out loud, to no one. "I might never check out."

It's bright, completely lit by beams of sunlight streaming through sheer white draperies that hang over two glass doors. It looks like these swing open, like French doors, out to the patio, which is constructed of wide red planks that hold a two-person table and a brightly colored loveseat, all shaded by an enormous canopy. 

I head for the bed and sit on the edge, almost drooling at the thick, comfortable mattress and feather soft comforter.

Tap tap tap, I hear, coming from the door.

I walk around the suitcase I've left sitting in the middle of the room and open the door to the suite. JC's leaning against the doorjamb, holding a bottle and an opener in one hand and a pair of flutes in the other.

"Compliments of Andrew," he says, walking past me into my room.

"What? What about Andrew?"

"This was in my room, with a card that said, ‘with my compliments, please enjoy'. Signed it Andrew. So let's enjoy it." He's already attacking the bottle with a stainless steel contraption. The cork pops off and shoots across the room. I hear it skid across the tile and land somewhere. JC pours two glasses of bubbly champagne.

He hands me one and holds the other aloft, waiting for me to bump my glass against his.

"Champagne in the middle of the afternoon?"

"On vacation...yes. C'mon, we have to toast." I roll my eyes but I bump glasses with his, the sound ringing out into the quiet room. "Okay, so... to uh...." The room is silent. JC's face is blank, then his cheeks grow pink. "Uhm..."

I'm trying hard to stifle my giggle, but JC at a loss for words is something I rarely see anymore. "You realize, Best Man that you have to make a toast at the reception, right?"

"I have that one written, smartass. This one's impromptu. Stop distracting me." He clears his throat and lifts his glass again. "Okay, to... uh...reclaiming the loves of our lives. Or something like that. I don't know, drink."

We each take a few sips of light, peachy champagne, alternately watching each other and then taking in the view of the ocean rushing forward toward the sand. JC moves toward the patio doors and swings them open, then grabs my hand and pulls me with him toward the wood railing of the balcony. From this vantage point we can see a large part of the beach. Ahead, as far as the eye can see is calming, pristine, indigo blue sea.

So peaceful. I never want to leave this spot.

"I liked your toast, actually. Fitting, impromptu as it was."

JC is leaning onto the railing, his glass balanced precariously between two fingers before he brings it to his lips and sucks down another mouthful.

"You did, did you?" He finally says. His cheeks are still a little pink.

"Yeah. I thought it was sweet."

"I wasn't trying to be sweet. Just... poignant. I was going for a moment, there."

"It was all of that. I'm probably not going to forget the moment you said I was the love of your life."

"Yeah. Well...." He sips again, swallowing before he adds. "Thanks. But you're not going to turn me into a sap."

"I'm not trying to turn you into anything. I'm just saying I liked your toast."

"Whatever, Evangeline."

"Don't start that, Joshua."

We both chuckle and stare out into the view, at the ocean waves chasing each other until they all crash together on the shore, then roll back out and back in again.

I glance over at him a few times and can't suppress my smile. Or a happy little giggle. I'd better not be getting drunk already.

"What are you laughing at?" He asks me, after my third episode of ‘sneak a peek, chuckle a little, and look away'. "You keep looking at me and laughing. Do I look weird?"

I reach for his hand and wind my fingers around his. "You don't look weird." I take in the light dusting of facial hair, the baseball cap planted backwards on his head, the curls peeking out from underneath the brim, the bright, gorgeous blue eyes and long lashes. "You look the same."

His head doesn't move but his eyes cut over to me. "I what?"

"You look the same. As you did back then. When we were together."

He smirks, but I spot his shy smile. "I do not."

"Uh huh. I was thinking about it this morning, on the way to the airport. You had the top down and music playing. It reminded me of when you first got the Jeep. Remember? And you just wanted to go everywhere, all the time, all day?"

"Yeah," he says. I watch the nostalgia wash over him, evident by the expression on his face, his thin smile and dreamy eyes. "Back when gas was cheap. It was so nice to finally have a ride of my own. Pick up my girl and head out."  

"I remember that I'd get a call around ten or eleven, usually, right before you left work, telling me to be ready to go. Remember what you'd say when I asked where we were going?"

"Who cares? Somewhere."  He shrugs, chuckles, and takes a sip.

"In like, an hour we'd be on the road to Lake Conway or Tampa Bay, or some park somewhere, or just downtown, even. And you'd just started growing facial hair and you wore your caps backwards. I keep looking at you because you look the same. Just takes me back."

JC is quiet for a few beats. Maybe he's reminiscing, too.

"You look different," he says. "Lots."

"I do? How? Older?"

"Sorta." He laughs when I smack him on the arm. "Well, not like you think I mean it. You look... womanly."

"Womanly..."

"Yeah. Like a woman's figure. I mean, you were hot, back then. I was proud to be with you. But right now?" He shakes his head and downs another gulp of champagne. "I like the grown up version of Angie. You know what I mean? I mean... I don't know what I mean." He shoves a thumbnail in his mouth and chews on it for a few seconds.

"You mean womanly like an old hag?"

He rolls his eyes upward before they snap back to me. "That's... not what I meant. You know that."

I laugh and lift the glass to my lips again. I swallow, then admit, "I knew what you meant. I don't think I look the same either."

He smoothes a palm down his disheveled facial hair. "I sure don't miss my baby face, I'll tell you that. I hope I look like an adult now."

"Baby... trust me." I move closer and let my hand travel from his chest, down his abdomen to the warm lump in the crotch of his shorts. I stroke the length of him through the thin fabric, enjoying the feeling of him growing longer and arching toward me. In just a few seconds, he is embarrassingly hard.

"You do, most definitely, look like an adult. I was just saying that you reminded me of you back then. It was a nice memory."

"You should keep those nice memories in mind," he murmurs, his eyes half closed. "Keep remembering how much we loved each other. How much fun we had together. Especially out by the lake."

"I remember," I say smiling at the reminder of our times in the Jeep at Lake Conway. He'd back up almost to the edge of the bank and we'd sit and watch the water stream by. We'd listen to music and talk about our dreams and our plans. Our future. Those were the best times, and always some of my fondest memories.

"I'm hoping you remember what you promised me a couple days ago. And I'm also hoping you're going to follow through on what you're doing down there."

I lean in to kiss him, letting my lips linger on his with a long, low, vibrating hum. "Sex, in the middle of the day?" I say, pulling back. "Well, I never!"

"Liar. We've had more daytime sex in the last four days than I've had in the last year." Which, to be fair, is true. I've loved every minute of it. "And yes, sex during the day on vacation. On an island. Especially before people start calling to find out where we are."

I wrap a hand around a bicep and start to pull him toward the open patio doors. "But... no one is going to call. You made everyone turn their phones off, remember?"

He raises one eyebrow and a smile crawls across his face as he allows himself to be pulled through the door and back into my room.  I grab his glass and set it next to mine on the coffee table, then lead him toward the bed, kick off my shoes and climb up. He follows suit, stretching out next to me.

"We have to finish that champagne today," he says. "I don't know where the cork went."

"Oh, don't worry." I reach toward him and unceremoniously unzip the fly of his shorts. "We will."

"Oh yeah?" He sits up halfway, leaning back on is elbows. "You plan on working up a thirst?"

I undo the button at the waist of his shorts and pull them open, revealing a pair of white boxer briefs. He is outlined plainly, straining against the cotton. I pause, glance up at him, then dip my head toward the tip and mouth him through the fabric. I smile at the sound of him groaning. His hips buck toward me, ever so slightly.

"Remember the first time you did this for me?"

"Mmmhmm," I hum, running my tongue around the rim before rolling my eyes up to meet his.  "And you almost passed out?"

"I didn't almost pass out."

"Yuh huh. You were purple. I had to stop to tell you to breathe."

"And to let go of your hair."

"See? You remember."

"It felt good. Really good. No one ever did that before you."

I glance up at him, looking for the tells that says he's lying, usually an inability to look me in the eye, licking his lips, looking everywhere but at me. He staring straight at me and not moving a muscle.

"Really? I was the first?"

"And the best."

I laugh. "Oh, shut the fuck up, JC. I was just messing around, trying to get you to make funny sounds."

"It worked. You were good. You still are."

I grunt and go back to stroking him through his briefs. I know, for a fact, that JC has bedded a lot of women since me, many of whom would love to choke on his dick. I don't believe him but I'll take the compliment.

"Are you planning on doing anything more than that? Because..."

"Getting to it. Patience," I say, before I reach into the opening of his boxers and pull him out. His dick seems happy to be free, pointing skyward. He is warm and thick and pulsing. Without preamble, I take him into my mouth and suck him in; deep, deeper still until I've almost swallowed him.

"Unf!" He grunts, his arms slipping out from underneath him. He falls back onto the bed and lies spread eagle, in complete submission. JC, under my control and domination is a huge turn-on.

I try to drag it out, tease him, make it last, but it isn't long before his hands are curled up into my hair and he's pumping his hips as I lick and suck and swirl my tongue around him. After he comes, he heaves a deep, loud sigh and seems to shrink into the mattress.

Proud of myself, I crawl up the bed to lie next to him. A light sheen of sweat coats his forehead. He's still coming down, inhaling deep breaths and emitting light moans.

"We've been here, what? An hour and a half? And you already came? Bodes well for the week."

He laughs, then falls into a coughing fit. When he's calm again, he kicks his shorts off and rolls to his side, propping himself up on one elbow.

"Gonna be a rough week."

"It's not like we won't see each other."

"Like that'll help. I'll see you and want you."

"I'll be in the same boat. But it will be worth it, I promise."

He leans over to kiss me, while his fingers roam the waistband of my shorts. They don't have any zippers or buttons, just a drawstring, so I untie the string holding them on and pull them down. My thin cotton panties go with them, and both are tossed over the side of the bed.

I'm more than ready for him as he moves himself to hover over me without breaking the kiss. His body settles onto mine and I feel him between us, hard and warm again. I laugh, mid kiss, which makes him stop and pull back.

"What are you laughing at now?" He tries to sound irritated, but there's a twinkle in his eyes as he asks.

"Nothing."

"Nothing? I think it was something."

"It wasn't! It was nothing."

He pauses, then frowns, playfully so. "Evangeline."

I roll my eyes and laugh, wrapping my legs around him."Okay, okay. I was just thinking that you're like... always ready."

"Ready?"

"Ready," I glare at him. He knows what I mean. "Hard. Erect. Down to fuck."

"Oh. I'm not, really. Just when you're around."

"Well I plan to be around a lot, so..."

"So I plan to be ready to fuck a lot."

I'm laughing, but I'm swooning inside. It occurs to me that there's an entire life after this trip, after this week of solitude and ocean air and romantic beachside antics. I feel like the future is one long, uncharted pathway. Suddenly everything I had planned for myself for the next few weeks, months, years is up in the air.

I couldn't be more excited about it. We have a future again.

Smooth and sudden, JC moves himself into position and pushes inside me, filling me in a few long strokes. We both moan and sigh as if it's the first time we've touched each other in days, and not hours. I cling to him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, burying my face in his neck, feeling his body arch as he thrusts into me. I receive and push back, a beautiful symphony of movement and sound and sheer enjoyment.

"Sex," he huffs into my ear. "On vacation. In the middle of the day. In a Penthouse suite. On an island. Tell me this shit isn't perfect, right now."

I can only pant and wheeze and moan oh my God over and over, but I nod as I catch his eye. He smiles and dips his head to my neck, bathing me with his tongue. His stubble is pricking my skin but it doesn't bother me; rather it adds another point of pleasure that brings me the edge of climax. I'm pulsing around him, trying to hold back, make it last.

"I feel you," he says, watching me, not skipping a beat. "You're close."

"Mmmmm!"

"I already got mine. Don't hold back, I want to watch you."

That was all he had to say before I couldn't hold it at bay anymore. While the sounds of the waves crashing against the sands down below travel to my ear, I'm experiencing the same phenomenon in my hotel suite. The strongest orgasm I've felt in a long time waves its way through my body, arching my back, pointing my toes, pulling the oddest sounds from my throat and sapping my strength.

JC's thrusts finally slow and then stop. He pulls out and then lays next to me, slides one arm across me and listens to me try to catch my breath.

"So, I have an addendum to your statement, Counselor."

He groans. "Already submitted. What statement?"

"About sex, on vacation, in a penthouse suite. And I know it's already submitted, that's why it's an addendum. Geez, you quit your job last week and already forgot how to lawyer? Should I call Tyler to work this out?"

His eyes are closed but he's smiling. "I'll consider it. What clause are you seeking to add?"

"You."

His eyes open and he lifts his head so he can look at me. "What?"

"Sex. With you. On vacation. In the middle of the day. In a penthouse suite. On an island. Tell me this shit isn't perfect, right now."

He leans down to kiss me, a sweet gentle quiet peck on my lips. "Approved. Submitted with Addendum. Sex. With you. On vacation. In the middle of the day in a penthouse suite on an island. Sounds perfect to me."

I open my mouth to reply, but I'm interrupted by a loud, shrill ring that makes me almost jump out of my skin. JC's drops his head to my shoulder. I can feel his body shaking with laughter.

"Right. There are phones in the rooms." He nods his head toward the corded white phone on the nightstand near me. "Get it. You know it's one of your girlfriends."

I roll over and reach for the phone, grumbling. "Like you're not here with your boys. Hello?"

#

"I don't think this week is going to be a big deal."

I bought us some time before we have to meet everyone at the Lounge in the middle of the resort for a drink to kick off the weeklong celebration. Then we plan to eat, drink and party into the night. We decided to stay in my room for the night since I have the better view, so after a quick shower, JC put on the hotel bathrobe and went to his room next door to change. We meet up at the elevator wearing fresh clothes, fresh faces, and sneaky, shit-eating grins.

JC snickers and presses the down button to call the elevator.

"I don't. We're the only two single people on this trip. We've known each other forever and we've been getting along so no one's going to think it's weird if we're hanging out. Just act normal."

"Normal. Okay." The elevator arrives and the doors slide open. We step inside and press ‘L'. The doors slide closed. "Define normal. Normal has changed in the last four days."

"You know what I mean. Normal. You've been stalking me for twenty years, showing up everywhere I am. Relentlessly teasing me. Calling me at weird hours of the night to tell me what I shitty lawyer I am. Beating me at fucking everything. Sitting in the parking lot of my apartment complex, waiting for me to leave, apparently."

JC shoves his hands in the pockets of yet another pair of shorts I made him bring. "I was that bad? You make me sound like an asshole."

"If it walks like a duck..." I shrug and he laughs. "I'm just saying. Be serious about what you said, about not becoming a sap. You're happy, I'm happy... but don't stop doing the same annoying shit you were doing when I hated you."

"You mean being in love with you, not wanting to admit it, and getting on your nerves because you always react and it's fun?"

I narrow my eyes and pretend to glare at him. "Yes. Exactly that. Don't stop doing that."

The elevator reaches the bottom floor and the doors slide open again. The lobby is teeming with people milling around like ants, dressed in their vacation wear-sarongs and bikini tops and flip flops on the women, sleeveless shirt and board shorts and sandals on the men.

We step out of the elevator into the melee, into our vacation, into the best acting we'll ever do and what might be the longest week of our relationship.

"You got it, Evangeline."

@font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;}@font-face {font-family:Aptos; panose-1:2 11 0 4 2 2 2 2 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:536871559 3 0 0 415 0;}p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin-top:10.0pt; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:10.0pt; margin-left:0in; text-align:justify; text-indent:.25in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Aptos",sans-serif; mso-ascii-font-family:Aptos; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Aptos; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Aptos; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi; mso-font-kerning:1.0pt; mso-ligatures:standardcontextual;}p {mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-margin-top-alt:auto; margin-right:0in; mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:0in; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman",serif; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";}.MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes; mso-ascii-font-family:Aptos; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Aptos; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Aptos; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}.MsoPapDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; text-align:justify; text-indent:.25in;}div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;}