Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE

TY

I wake to sunlight streaming through the bedroom window and enchanting notes from an acoustic guitar drifting from the hall. Not wanting to miss Craig playing, I toss the covers aside, stand, stretch, and then pad into the bathroom.

A fresh set of clothes, towels, and a new toothbrush are in a neat pile on the sink. Smiling at Craig's thoughtfulness, I quickly clean up. The gray athletic pants have a drawstring waist which helps convert them close to my size. They still bag a little, but rolling the waistband a few inches helps. The light blue T-shirt is the softest cotton I've ever felt. It's a size too big, but I don't care. Wearing Craig's clothes, especially after the night we shared, makes me feel extra close to the man.

The music continues to play. I pause at the entry to the living room. Craig sits in a chair by the window, dressed only in jeans, strumming the guitar. What a picture he makes, with the light playing across his skin. My fingers itch for my sketchbook.

A floorboard creaks when I shift. Craig's attention snaps in my direction. He smiles and the music fades. "Morning. "

"Hi." I wander farther into the room, taking in the light gray walls, dark gray throw rugs, a piano, two guitars, and a small black couch. Last night, I was too consumed by Craig to get more than a passing glance at the space.

He sets the guitar in its stand next to an electric guitar and an amp much smaller in size to the ones that had been on the stage during the band's performance. "Hungry?"

"Starving." My heartbeat stutters as he walks toward me, and again when he leans in close and brushes our lips together. I splay my hands across his muscled chest. Heat seeps into my skin and I wish I'd held off on slipping into clothes before wandering the apartment to find Craig. "Have you been awake long?"

"A while." Linking our fingers together, he leads the way to the kitchen. Peering at the microwave clock, he raises his brows. "No wonder I'm hungry. It's been a few hours since I got up. I'm sorry I wasn't there when you woke, but I've learned the hard way that when I wake up with lyrics and melodies in my head, I need to get them down right away or risk losing them forever."

"I lose all track of time when I'm creating things too." The gray and white theme continues in this room. I spy the sketch I'd given Craig hanging on the refrigerator. "You kept it."

He presses a button on the coffeemaker, then takes mugs out of the cabinet. "Of course I did. I'm going to frame it. How about pancakes for breakfast?"

"I'll eat anything." Pleasure surges at the thought of my sketch hanging on one of Craig's walls. Ready to help with the cooking, I lean against the counter, and set the ingredients he passes me in an organized row. "What are you up to today?"

"There's a huge team visit at Children's Hospital this afternoon. Most of our volunteers are taking part." He hands me a carton of eggs and his expression turns thoughtful. "Would you want to come? You could wear a costume. We don't have any villains, but there are a ton of hero choices in the vault at headquarters."

"I'd really like that." Not only do I want to go so I get to see Craig in action and spend more time with the man, but also because the whole idea of the foundation and what they do to spread joy impresses the hell out of me. I want to be a part of it.

Craig pauses with a bag of flour in his hands. Lines of concern crease his face. "Today is the last day of the convention."

I lay my hand on top of his, and press a kiss to his cheek. "I'm fine with missing it. Spending the afternoon with you, hanging out and making sick kids smile is a much better option."

The lines fade away and he beams. "Okay, good. I'm glad."

"So, where's your pancake recipe?"

He taps his temple. "Right here."

I stay close as he whisks together the batter and help by washing a carton of blueberries then add them to the mixture. He puts me in charge of making scrambled eggs while he monitors the pancakes and flips them with precision. Soon, we have a stack ready and full plates.

The pancakes are sweet and the tartness of the blueberry explodes on my tongue. "This is really good."

"I'm glad you like it." Craig smiles at me over the rim of his coffee mug. "And I'm glad you're coming with me later. I can't wait for you to see the kids."

"How did you get started with the charity?"

"One of my old bandmates, the band I was in after Cody and Devon went back to Buffalo, had a son who had leukemia. He loved superheroes, and was pretty sad about being stuck in the hospital. So that Halloween, my buddy threw a little party for him in the hospital room. We all dressed as superheroes. His son dressed up too. Everyone had a blast. And I saw how excited the other kids on his floor were to see us. So a few weeks later, we went back, dressed up again to visit everyone. Then did it again. And again. It turned into a tradition and we formed the foundation soon after."

Sympathy swells as I picture the scene Craig painted with his words. "That's amazing. And your bandmate's son… Did he…"

Craig's smile becomes a full-blown grin. "He is now a healthy, happy ten-year-old."

Breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding rushes out. "That's good."

"Yeah. He was one hell of a fighter. I'm glad he gets to just be a kid now."

After we finish eating, Craig makes fresh cups of coffee and we carry them into the living room. Carefully sipping the rich brew, I tap a couple of piano keys. Tiny clinks of the highest notes ring out. I glance at Craig. "I always wanted to learn how to play."

"I could teach you." The offer rolls off his tongue quickly, and from his serious expression, he means it.

Ignoring the fact that I'm leaving tomorrow, and thinking Craig might be doing so too, I set my coffee on a side table next to the couch and sit at the piano bench.

Craig stands behind me. Strong hands rest on my shoulders. "Put the fingers of your right hand on the center keys."

"All right." Feeling a little silly, I comply. Then smile as Craig's hand covers my fingers.

"Now, you're going to learn the first song I learned to play when I was a kid. It's easy, and it only uses five notes. Just relax your fingers under mine. Let me do the work."

"Deal." I relax my shoulders and rest my head against his torso and watch our joined hands. With subtle pressure, he presses his index finger, then his middle finger. Those two notes echo each other eight times. Then one note from the key under my thumb, followed by a single note for each key under each finger, from my index to my pinkie. We go back down the keys and then up once more, ending with the high note from the pinkie's key.

He lifts his hand and returns it to my shoulder. "Good. Now you try it."

My heartbeat ticks up. I straighten my posture. Even though it's a simple song, I really want to impress Craig. I start off with the two echoing notes, then go up and down the scale, trying to remember the tempo he used. The last note fades, and I hold my breath, nervous for his response.

"You did it!" Squeezing my shoulders, Craig bends and kisses my cheek. "Nice job."

Pride surging, I tilt my head back for another kiss. I catch his smile and then that firm mouth covers mine in a sexy, sort of upside-down kiss. When we separate, I pat the space beside me on the bench. "Will you play something for me?"

"Sure." He climbs over the bench and lays his hand on my thigh to keep me in place. "Stay. I like having you here."

Hands hovering over the keys, he presses his lips together and stares at the wall. Then he smiles and dives into playing. Both hands travel over the keys. The melody is vaguely familiar, then recognition dawns. It's a version of one of The Fury's ballads. Normally played on an acoustic guitar, the song was a huge recent hit for the band. The piano gives it an almost ethereal quality. Then Craig's raspy voice adds the lyrics, and my jaw nearly hits the floor. Hauntingly beautiful, the song which sings of love and longing, pulls at my soul. His talent calls to the artist in me, and a vision of mornings sketching while he plays dances through my head. But I shake the fantasy away as quickly as it came.

Shifting my position, I straddle the bench, facing him. No sheet music is in sight. He's playing the song from memory. Shirtless and sexy, and fully into the music, Craig at the piano is every bit as tempting as Craig on guitar. Once again, I wish I had my sketchbook.

The song reaches its end, and the higher notes that had kept Craig leaning into my torso as he reached for those keys fade into silence. He meets my gaze and the shyness there is so unexpected, I wrap my arms around him, encircling him halfway before my brain catches up with my actions. "You were amazing."

"You liked it?"

"I loved it." I stroke my hand through his thick hair, loving the way the soft strands tease my palm. "So much that I wish I had a video. Your voice is so good. Why weren't you ever a lead singer?"

"I don't like being the center of attention that much."

I pause mid-stroke. "You looked like you loved being in the spotlight during your solo last night."

"Yeah, but all I cared about then was putting on a show for you ." Finally, his smile forms. "Did you happen to notice how I looked at no one else but you?"

"I did, actually." Pleasure spikes as images from last night fill my thoughts. "And I don't think I was the only one who noticed."

"Luke noticed too. And I'm sure there were more."

"Slater and Noah did too." I lightly tug on the strands in the way I discovered Craig liked last night. "I like having you at the center of my attention. "

On a moan, his eyes close and his hands tighten on my chest and thigh. "Likewise."

Our mouths meet and I deepen the kiss. He tastes of maple syrup and coffee, sweet and rich. My hands roam the expanse of tan skin, and I sigh and arch into his questing hands. Lengthening kisses and lingering touches shift the lazy morning into an urgent rush to be as close as possible.

Craig stands, pulling me along with him, and tugs my body until it's snug against his hard form. I shoot my hand out for balance and it lands on the black and white keys, releasing a jumbled tangle of notes.

"Let's take this somewhere more comfortable." He climbs over the piano bench and holds out his hand. Grasping it, I wait to see where he'll lead me. The couch is close by, the throw rug would do, and the bed has the most space.

"Where to?"

"The bedroom." His lips curve in a sexy smile. "What we did last night deserves a repeat performance."

The afternoon sun is high and hot, beaming in a cloudless sky. Being dressed as the Flash tickles me. I hustle with Craig along the crosswalk in front of Children's Hospital's main entrance, my nerves swarming my system. The doors open and we step into the cool relief of air conditioning.

At the foundation, when I'd selected the costume and met the volunteers, I was briefed on the workings of a usual visit, but not knowing exactly how everything will go, and worry over the possibility of failing to make the kids happy, knots my stomach.

The rest of the volunteer group files in behind us. We traveled together from the foundation's headquarters in a caravan of three cars with the foundation's logo. Dressed in colorful costumes, they are a happy, exuberant team and welcomed me with a level of inclusion I, a newcomer known to be here for only one visit, hadn't expected.

We gather by the security desk and wait for the hospital staff person who coordinated the visit.

Craig, dressed in a Superman costume, turns toward me and links our hands together. "I'm really glad you're here."

"Me too. I hope I do a good job." I glance down at my costume. "And I hope there aren't any occurrences of Hurricane Ty. Banging into something in one of the rooms could potentially be really bad."

"You're Superhero Ty today." Craig's voice is gentle and his hold on my hand tightens. "And you're nowhere near the walking disaster you labeled yourself when we met."

Glad my costume hides the flush of heat creeping over my neck and face, I shrug. "I was a pretty accident-prone kid, so I earned that nickname back then."

"Other than the display table, have you had anything else happen lately?"

I click through my mental file. "Nothing that big. Nothing that required medical attention for myself or caused damage to someone else. Not in years."

"There you go, then." With a smile, he bumps our shoulders together. "Relax. This visit will be fun. And no matter what happens, I'm here."

Those last two words shroud me in protection and ease my worries. And make me fall harder for the man. I squeeze his hand. "My hero."

The clicking of heels on the tiled floor announce the coordinator's arrival. After we volunteers are approved by hospital security, we begin our rounds from room to room. Sticking close to Craig, I greet the patients and parents, pose for photos, and help hand out activity packets. I love the children's reactions to our costumes. My favorite is the huge, professional body builder painted green like the Hulk.

In every room, Craig speaks to parents and children with an ease I envy. While he chats, I do quick sketches of any character the children request. The smiles I receive are priceless.

Watching Craig throughout the afternoon raises my opinion of him even more. Not every man would give up hours of his weekend to volunteer, and pour himself so wholeheartedly into the role. Craig is someone special, and my chest pinches as our time together hurls faster and faster toward its end.

We wrap up our visit with a group photo of all the volunteers and members of the hospital staff who coordinated the visit.

After the photo is taken, Craig pulls me aside and holds up his phone. "Take a selfie with me?"

"Great idea. I want one on my phone, too." I pull my phone from a side pocket sewn into my suit. "This is the first time I've ever been in a hero costume. I'm always a villain."

"Really? Even back when you were a kid?"

"Even then." Huddling in close, I smile at our image on his screen. We look good together. Better than good, we look perfect.

The passage of time weighs heavy on my mind as we return to the foundation, and as I bid goodbye to the costume and the other volunteers, and again during the drive with Craig to my hotel. Meeting him Friday afternoon, our time together at the coffee shop and the bar, searching for comic books together on Saturday, then lunch, exploring the city, dinner, the concert, sex, sleeping together, waking up this morning to Craig on guitar, making pancakes, the piano lesson, the hospital visit… all of it, ev ery single moment has spun by so fast. Every passing minute is too easily visualized as sand slipping through an hourglass.

We stop at a red light. Craig lays his hand on my thigh. "You're quiet."

I manage a smile. "Just looking at the scenery." And thinking. So much thinking.

"What time is your flight tomorrow morning?" The tentative question pokes into the heart of my musings. His posture tightens, as though he's bracing himself for the answer, and knowing in advance he isn't going to like it.

Maybe I'm not the only one sad about our time together coming to an end. "We have to be at the airport by six."

"Damn, that's early. I wish you were taking a flight later in the day." With a gentle squeeze, Craig turns his attention back to the road. The light changes to green, and he leaves his hand on my thigh as he drives. The weight is comforting and breaks my heart a little more. No way do I want to get on that plane. After a few minutes, I lace our fingers together. His hand feels so good, and so right, in mine.

The hotel comes into view and my stomach fills with dread. I'm not ready to say goodbye. My hand tightens around his. The car rolls slowly through the crowded parking lot.

Unsure of whether he intends to stop by the entrance and drop me off, or find a space, I twist toward him, drinking in his profile. The car turns down one row and then he swings into a space near the middle of the lot. He gently extracts his hand from my grip and turns off the engine.

Playing with the edge of his leather bracelet, he meets my gaze. "Do you have plans with Slater and Noah tonight?"

I shake my head. My friends know I want to be with Craig. We exchanged texts earlier, right before I'd gone to the hospital visit. "Can you stay a while? "

He captures my hand, raises it to his lips, and feathers a kiss along my knuckles. "Until you kick me out."

The thought immediately flashing into my mind makes me laugh, and I give voice to it. "Then I guess you're staying the night."

"You won't see me complaining about that." After another kiss, Craig releases me and we climb out of the car.

Inwardly, I cheer. Staying the night means I have another good twelve hours with him. I intend to make the most of them.

When we reach my room, I flick on the light, kick off my sneakers, and gesture for Craig to make himself comfortable. The room has two double beds and a separate seating area. Everything from the walls to the bedding to the furniture is decorated in shades of cream.

We order room service and eat sandwiches stuffed with grilled vegetables and chicken on herb-encrusted bread, crispy fries seasoned with pepper and sea salt, and drink wine while sprawling out side by side on one of the beds, talking about everything from the serious to the silly. Sharing. Kissing. Touching. Tasting.

Dinner finished, we feed each other bites of the chocolate mousse we ordered for dessert, our hands roaming over each other's bodies and stealing kisses between each taste offered. The rich chocolate melts on my tongue. I raise the last spoonful to Craig's lips. Eyes heavy with desire, he accepts the offering. I quickly set the bowl and spoon on the tray. When I turn back, he is right there, with a chocolate-flavored kiss.

On a moan, I thread my hands into Craig's wavy hair, desperate for the promises of that talented mouth. Strong hands slip over my skin, pushing my shirt out of the way. I maneuver over the mattress, pulling him down with me, until we're laying comfortably across the bed.

In between kisses, we cast our shirts, pants, boxers, and socks into a pile on the other bed. Tangled together, heated skin lined up, cocks touching, legs rubbing, torsos brushing, we fall into kiss upon kiss.

Craig's hands play over my skin, as skilled in the knowledge of my body as he is with a guitar or piano. Driven high into sparking passion, I gasp and moan as my every secret is exposed.

Throbbing for more, I skate my hands down his sides and slip them between our bodies. My hand around his cock, stroking the hard flesh, has him moaning and thrusting into my grasp. I slide the other up his chest to tweak a pebbled nipple. "I want to feel you."

In a swift roll, he shifts us from laying side-by-side to him ranging over me, his chocolate-laced breath feathering over my lips. "How? Where? You can have whatever you want."

The previous two times we've been together, we've traded hand jobs and blow jobs. As satisfying as those experiences were, this time, I want more. "I want you in me."

Desire flares in those brown eyes and Craig pulls me into an enthusiastic kiss. Our tongues tangle and torsos rock together. "I have a condom in my wallet. After what happened last night and this morning, I wanted to be prepared."

My cock surges at the memory of the mutual blow jobs we gave each other after breakfast in his sun-drenched bed and how he edged me with his fingers and tongue. "I like that you're prepared. I didn't expect anything to happen on this trip, so I have nothing with me."

With a quick kiss, Craig rolls off the bed. In the absence of his heat, coolness rushes in. I watch the muscles in his back and legs flex as he bends to retrieve his wallet. He straightens, holding the condom and a small packet of lube. After setting the items on the bedside table, he stretches out beside me, pulling me against his long form. I sigh at the full-length press of heated skin. He dives into kissing me like it's the very reason for his existence. We roll together, switching positions—top, bottom, over, under—driving each other higher with every touch.

"I'll get you ready." Breathless, he wraps his hand around my dick. The callouses on his fingers add a hint of roughness and I thrust into his fist. I don't like or need bits of pain like Craig, but this roughness is just right.

Desperate to return pleasure, I work his cock, too, drinking in every gasp leaving the musician's lips.

He tears into the lube packet and dribbles some onto his fingers. Leaning on one arm, he kisses me as his other hand plays at my rim, teasing before edging a single digit inside.

My breath catches as the sensation grows bigger, deeper. I glance from Craig's face down to where his fingers are disappearing into my body. One finger, then two. Then, a third.

Grasping his shoulders, I lose myself in another kiss. My cock leaks steadily. I need more than those fingers. "Craig, please."

"Whatever you want." He leans back and grabs the condom. Before he puts it on, I take the lube and pour some into my palm. Then take hold of Craig, rubbing the slickness along his shaft and encouraging him to thrust into my tight fist. Groaning, he does just that, then abruptly pulls away. "Too close. Way too close."

After he rolls the condom down his length, he settles between my legs and nudges them farther apart. One hand braced on the bed, he ranges over me, his gaze tracing a path up my body to meet my gaze. "Ready for me? "

My heartbeat hammers and nerve endings quiver in anticipation. "So ready. I want to feel you."

He lines up his cockhead with my hole and my breath catches as he gently presses forward. With a sharp intake of breath, he eases inside, pausing every few seconds. The sensation of him opening me up is so good. His teeth sink into his bottom lip and his features draw tight. "I know it's been…" He sinks deeper, "a while for you… " Another inch, and he finishes his sentence through a clenched jaw, "I don't want to hurt you."

Warmth washes into my chest and I moan as he slides the rest of the way home. He holds himself there, hard and thick, and so deep inside me. Hands resting on either side of my head, he brings our lips together.

We kiss as I grow used to the fullness, until the need for him to move becomes too great. I stroke my thumb along his jawline. "I'm ready. Give me more."

His hips retreat until just the head of his cock remains inside me, then pushes forward all the way in one slow advance. I let my head fall against the pillow as his movements grow bigger, get deeper, shattering me with sensations.

Resting his weight on one arm, Craig holds my gaze and runs his other hand down the center of my chest in a possessive streak. That touch sends me soaring. I want to belong to him, for us to belong to each other. The warm palm travels over my stomach and then wraps around my dick. I arch into the touch, trying to take him deeper. "You feel so damn good."

"You too. So tight around me." Shallow thrusts punctuate each word. Then they pick up speed.

Faster. Harder. Deeper. The pace increases with every beat of my heart.

I dig my heels into his ass, pulling him closer. Pleasure races through me, my fingers clawing at the bedsheet. My release slams into me, white hot and blinding, and I cry out, spurting over his hand and onto my stomach. As I come down, I feel Craig's cock swell. Wanting to push him over the edge, I scrape my nails over his nipples and sink a love bite into his shoulder.

With a groan, he thrusts forward. Head thrown back, he closes his eyes. His muscles strain and his mouth drops open in soundless release. Muted heat fills the condom.

Completely sated, I stroke my hand down his chest. "I love the way you look when you come."

His eyes open. He falls forward, supported by his hands on either side of my shoulders, then drops onto his forearms. "Yeah? You look pretty amazing that way too."

I slip my hands behind his neck and urge him closer, into a kiss. The endorphins floating through my system have me flying high. I feel good—great, actually—and it's all thanks to Craig.

Hand in hand, we walk to the bathroom and clean up, then slip back into bed, sharing the last of the wine. The hour grows late, and there's still one more story to tell, and one more kiss to savor.

In the early hours of the morning, I fall asleep in Craig's arms, wishing I could hold him forever.

The blaring of the alarm clock crashes through my dreams. I blearily roll toward the sound and stab the button to silence the noise. Green digits glow the time. Five AM.

Craig groans and wraps his arm around me, drawing me back into the heat of his body. "Feels like we just fell asleep."

"I have to get ready." But I don't make a move, snuggled into the embrace. With each change of a digit on the clock, minutes tick by and tension tightens through me like a strangling snake. Finally, the time clicks to the absolute last minute I can stay in bed. My heart heavy, I press a kiss to Craig's hand and then slip out from under his arm.

The fresh mint of my toothpaste helps wake me up a little and the shower's hot spray chases away the chill of the room's air-conditioning. Bracing my hands on the tiles, I lean into the water rushing down like an intense rain shower. I need a minute to fully chase away the cobwebs of sleep clouding my mind.

A gentle knock on the bathroom door, and then it eases open and Craig steps inside the room, gloriously naked. After a quick swirl of mouthwash, he comes closer. "Mind if I join you? I know we have to hurry, but I…"

"I know." Wanting to share every last minute, I pull back the curtain. Craig slips in behind me, so warm, and wraps his strong arms around my waist, pulling our bodies together. Pressing kisses to my temple, he grabs the small bottle of body wash and pours the clear liquid into his hands.

Luxuriating in the feel of the soapy slide of his hands over my skin, I lean my head onto his shoulder. "This is nice."

"It is. I'm bummed I didn't think to do this with you yesterday morning at my place."

His warm hand slides over my hardening cock, and I push my hips forward into the touch. Why had the guys and I decided to take such an early flight? Can I miss it? But what if I have trouble getting a later one? I have to be back at the office bright and early tomorrow. Those hands move to my hips and with a gentle pressure, urge me to turn so I'm facing Craig.

A sexy smile and half-lidded gaze greet me. I slide my arms around him and rub our torsos together, transferring soap and wishing I had more time to play. Our mouths meet and our stubbled chins and cheeks add pinpricks of sensation to the kiss. Craig's hands resume their strokes along my back and I arch into the mini-massage. Strong fingers cup my ass, pulling me tighter into his body. As they stroke circles over my skin, sparking arousal, I return the favor, skating my hands over as much skin as I can reach.

Keeping his hold on me, Craig turns us so he's standing under the spray. "I'll rinse off, then start some coffee. Let you finish up in here."

After one more kiss, he steps out of the shower. My gaze on him exiting the room with a towel wrapped around his waist, I drop the shampoo bottle.

Time is ticking away too quickly to waste any minutes. I rush through washing my hair, rinse off, towel off, then leave the bathroom, finger-combing my hair.

The scent of coffee fills the room. Craig is dressed and pouring two steaming cups from the small coffee machine on the desk. Hair in a wavy mess around his face, he crosses the room and hands one to me.

I take a careful sip. Fragrant and rich, the liquid is a touch too hot to drink. "Thank you."

With him watching, I tug on clothes and toss items into my suitcase. My hand pauses over the borrowed athletic pants and shirt I wore yesterday. "What about these? I feel weird handing back dirty clothes. Do you want me to?—"

"Keep them." Craig's rushed words remind me of the times I've spoken so quickly and earnestly when responding to his questions about spending time together. Maybe he wants to be sure I won't forget him. The tips of his ears redden. "You looked better in them than I ever could."

"Okay. Then, thanks." Knowing I'll wash and then slip them on as soon as I land, and certain they'll take first place among my favorite things to wear, I tuck the clothes into my bag. Finished packing, I leave a tip for housekeeping, then pick up my coffee and join Craig sitting on the bed. Our hands link together, just as they had last night when we lay together talking.

Sipping the strong brew, I keep glancing at the clock. Nerves fill my stomach. I don't know what to say, how to possibly articulate all that the weekend, all that Craig, meant to me.

"How much time do we have left?" His soft question hangs heavy in the air.

I set my cup on the bedside table. "Just a few minutes."

Stretching past me, Craig places his cup beside mine. Then he stands and pulls me up too so we're hip to hip and heart to heart. He raises our joined hands and studies the way they fit together. "This weekend was… incredible."

"I…" I tighten my hold, locking our hands together. My swift intake of breath draws Craig's attention from our hands to my gaze. Every cell in my body resists stepping away from the man in front of me. "I'm glad I met you."

"Me too. You can crash into my display table anytime." Smiling, he caresses my palm with his thumb in slow, steady circles. His eyes are eloquent as he frames the left side of my face with his other hand. "I'll call you."

I'll call you. So often an empty promise or a brush off. But the sincerity in Craig's gaze compels me to believe him.

"I will, too." I mean it. No way do I want to lose touch.

A soft knock on the door breaks the silence.

Even though I've been expecting it, my heart rate spikes. Time is up. I release my hold and force myself to take a step away. "That'll be Slater and Noah."

Craig nods and his hand falls away from my face. Moving aside to let me pass, he gestures toward the bags stacked in the corner. "I'll help carry your stuff down."

"Thanks." Smoothing my shirt and hair, I walk to the door. My reflection in the mirror on the wall makes me pause. Dark circles under sad eyes. I flip the lock and tug the door open.

Slater and Noah stand in the hall, travel bags in hand. The moment they notice Craig, sympathy clouds their faces. I can't handle talking to them about it, not here, maybe not for a long while. "I'm ready."

But I'm not. Not at all. Still, I grab a bag and let Craig carry the other one.

Our elevator ride to the lobby is silent. As we check out, my mind flies with all the things I want to say to Craig. Urgency and immediacy pounds in every heartbeat. But what else is there to say? I think I'm falling for you and I wish I could stay.

We load our bags into the waiting airport shuttle. Slater and Noah climb into the van, but I hang back. Time truly is up. I turn toward the man who unexpectedly has become more than a vacation fling. Want and longing morph into an ache in my chest.

Craig captures my hand and gently tugs me into his arms. The warmth of his chest and the strength in his hold wrap me in the most secure, sweetest embrace I've ever known. "Ty."

Arms holding him tight, I gaze into those gorgeous brown eyes. I can't say goodbye. Can't get that particular word past my lips. It seems too final. "Craig."

Behind us, the shuttle's driver clears his throat. "Sir, if we want to get you to the airport by six, we need to leave now."

Drinking in every detail of Craig's face, I press our torsos close together, determined to memorize every single thing. "Thank you for this weekend. It was unforgettable. "

He brushes his lips over mine. The touch, light and sweet, is like the faintest taste of a delectable dessert that's been whipped away before I've gotten my fill.

I lick my lips, trying to hold on to the flavor of his kiss.

"I'll see you." With those words, Craig lowers his arms and then steps back. He thrusts one hand into his front pocket, lifts the other in a wave, and smiles.

The ache in my chest deepens. I return the wave and drum up a smile. Forcing myself to turn away and move my legs in the van's direction takes monumental effort, but I succeed. My hands tremble as I buckle my seatbelt. Spotlighted by the sun, Craig stands, watching, and he licks his lips like he's trying to hold on to my flavor too.

The vehicle rolls forward and gains speed. I keep my gaze on the lone silhouette until the van turns a corner, removing him from view.

"You okay?" Slater's voice breaks the silence as we merge into heavy traffic.

I shake my head. In what universe could I possibly be okay? "No. But it's time to get back to the real world."