Then

"What's this?" says Josh, but he's only pretending not to know what the gigantic envelope with the key attached is all about.

He pulls out the card and reads, "‘Dear Josh and Julia, we hope you're enjoying your stay in beautiful Jamaica! Should you choose to forgo your individual rooms, you may use this key to stay together in the SkyBeach Resort Fantasy Suite as a couple.'" He lays the letter on the table between us. "What do you think, Julia? Do you...want to?"

We flew in yesterday, and we've just had the best day together, starting with a surfing lesson on the crystalline beaches of Jamaica. Now we're enjoying our last bites of dinner by the water, steps away from the SkyBeach Resort, a boutique hotel with waterside cabins.

We knew this was coming, this offer to spend tonight together off camera, but I pretend to hesitate, because I don't want to seem overeager, to Josh or to future viewers.

"I mean...you know there's nothing I'd love more than time alone with you," I say. "Just to get to know each other better."

"No expectations. We don't have to be physical."

"Of course not!" I say, even though that's all I can think about. "We can just talk."

After dessert, we keep it light as we walk toward the resort with our arms around each other, but the whole time, heat plays over my body like an electric storm, anticipating all the places Josh's hands will finally be able to touch. Within my new paradigm of reality and choice, the phrase make love feels particularly lovely. The act of creating a feeling. The tangible act of making the intangible. The power of yes to Camila's power of no. Launch Day Julia only had feelings to orient her, poor thing. Today Julia? She's making her own reality.

The "cabin" we've been assigned is more like a mini palace. The sliding doors to the ocean-facing terrace are open, the white curtains billowing in the breeze. The lighting is low, and candles flicker on the coffee table. We explore the place hand in hand, cameras still following. I gush at everything—the beautiful view of the ocean, the huge bathroom, the soaker tub, which has been prefilled with steaming water and strewn with rose petals. Even more rose petals lie scattered across the California king–size bed.

Josh pops champagne and we toast to the night ahead. Then I set my glass on the nightstand and fling myself backward on the bed. Josh follows, crashing hard on the mattress so that I bounce up a little, laughing. His hand finds mine. Then, playfully, I prop myself up, face the cameras, and say, "Shoo!"

"Could you do one more toast, from the bed?" says the producer.

We retrieve our champagne and, reclined on our sides, face each other. Josh looks at me with intensity.

"To us, and to our night together."

"To us," I echo. We clink and drink. And, like a miracle, the cameras leave. Josh closes and locks the front door. I follow him, arms wrapped around my middle.

Suddenly the billowing curtains seem less romantic and more ominous, like presences intruding on us. Like anyone could be watching from behind them.

"Can we close those?" I say.

Josh obliges. The wind stills. The curtains fall limp. I can hear my own heart beating in the fresh silence, and for a second I taste fear, which surprises me.

"Hey," says Josh, approaching me slowly as he undoes the top button of his shirt. "Is something wrong?"

No matter how far I was just telling myself I've come, all the old fears flood me. The fear that I don't really know Josh. That without the rules of the game, this will all fall apart.

All I can manage is a whisper. "Is this real?"

He cups my jaw with tender fingers. "Real?" He laughs. "Don't get into your head, Julia. Not tonight." I think he's about to kiss me, but he pulls back and untucks his shirt, revealing the shaded magnificence of his six-pack. "Here. Punch this. I think you'll find it's very real."

I giggle. The laughter loosens me a little. Reaching a tentative hand forward, I give Josh's abs the tiniest baby slap.

"Pa-thetic." He beckons with his free hand, bracing himself like he's really preparing for something big. "C'mon. Harder."

I can't help the laughter that escapes my lips as I pretend to really swing, then bring my fist gently to his skin. Damn, he really is hard as a rock...and not just his abs. I tease my fingers to his belt clasp. The metal is chilly.

"You like what you see?" he says, his eyes still laughing even though his expression has turned serious. "Because I like what I see."

"Do you?" Heart thudding, I reach for the hem of my shirt and tug it up slowly.

The laughter is gone, and Josh is all intensity, taking me in as I drop my shirt on the floor.

"God. Do you know how long I've been waiting for this?" he says in that husky voice I know so well.

He's not touching me, but he might as well be, the way his eyes alone are raising trails of goose bumps across my chest. My breasts feel heavy in my semi-sheer balconette bra.

"How long have you been waiting, Josh LaSala?" I breathe, giddy with relief that nothing has crumbled. It's the same familiar heat between us. If anything, it's heightened without the eye of the cameras on us. Magnified.

"Since I first saw you step out of the limo with those long legs of yours." He takes one step forward and his hand slides onto the small of my back. "You looked like a goddess. You have no idea how much I wanted you, even then."

"I was so awkward," I say, my breath catching as his hand pulls me gently against him and I feel his hard anticipation. I don't have to wonder how he's feeling about me.

"You were breathtaking. And you're breathtaking tonight." He kisses me slowly, his hands moving up my naked ribs, stopping at the edge of my bra. His breaths are coming slow and heavy. "You're going to have to stop me from going further, Julia Walden."

"Why would I stop you?" I lean forward and close my teeth gently around his lower lip. It's soft and full. I flick my tongue against it and he gasps. I release, draw back, and stroke a finger down the ridge of his jaw. He's nearly panting now. "I was made for you, Josh."

Then I reach behind my back and unclasp my bra. I watch him take me in as I drop the garment to the floor. His expression goes pained with intensity. Moving slowly, he cups my breasts, sweeping his thumbs across them. Now it's my turn to gasp at the sharp sensation his fingers draw forth.

"God, Julia," he says. "I'm never letting you put a shirt on again."

"Speaking of shirts..." I murmur, placing my hands on his stomach and pushing his shirt up. Another second, and it's on the floor next to my bra.

We stay suspended in the moment, both naked from the waist up. Time feels slow as honey, and my blood pulses with a heavy droning. I've hungered for Josh from the start. I've spent countless nights tortured with want, starved for his attention, his affection, his body. And now...the waiting is over. I get him. Not necessarily forever—but tonight.

It's both enough and not enough. A fulfillment and a cruel tease. I want to know how this ends, if this is the first taste of many, or my one and only, but all I can do is let time keep unfolding, heartbeat by heartbeat, and take what's before me.

"I never dreamed I would ever find a woman like you," Josh says thickly.

"That's because I'm not a dream." I tug at his belt. It's intoxicating, seeing the evidence of his desire. How he's straining with it, but still so self-controlled. In a minute, he won't be, I'll make sure of it, but for now, the tension is delicious.

"Are you sure?" he says.

"This is all real, Josh." I mean it, and I feel the whole world around us become more solid, more sure. I step forward, my breasts brushing his chest, and nuzzle into the crook of his neck, drawing my tongue slowly up his throat. I want to taste him everywhere. I've never felt so alive. This is my choice, and my fulfillment. "Let me give you what you need."