I break.

We’re flesh and bone. A conflict of soft and callous. Every tender surface of our bodies grates against rigid rock, shredding us bare layer by layer. The sharp edge of stone slices into my hand. I smear my palm along his bicep, across his chest, fascinated by the dark trail of blood staining his skin.

It’s intoxicating, and I’m intoxicated with his scent and his arousing sounds. His groan rumbles against my ear as he grows harder inside me, and I arch my back, needing him to touch every inch of my skin.

I bite down on his shoulder. The pain urges him on, the way the burn of the rock against my flesh steers me closer to that maddening edge.

He cups the back of my head, holding me tight to him. “I never want to stop.” His words race with his erratic movements. Every pulsing, painful lunge deeper teeters us both closer to the precipice.

“Don’t ever stop,” I hear myself say.

“Ah…fuck. I want all of you.”

The confession digs beneath my Teflon layer—all the pain and bliss and elation sets something fierce and uncontrollable free.

Alex hooks an arm beneath my knee, spreading my thighs wide so he can get even closer. He fucks me hard. He fucks me with wild, insatiable abandon that destroys the last of my sanity and control.

And when I feel the building pressure, I push back against him to alleviate the achy need tearing through me.

“Fuck, I love your sweet pussy.” He rails into me hard. “I fucking love your body, your beautiful breasts. Goddamn, all of you, Blakely—I fucking love you.”

His words spear me, and the burn blazes through my body like a brushfire. I squeeze my eyes closed as I try to hold back the dam, only the hot sting of tears threaten, and the release gives over to something volatile and explosive as it rips through my chest.

“Oh, god…it’s too much—”

“Let go.”

A war rages between us. My fight to restrain; his struggle to make me release. Soon the clash unfurls a light from the darkest corner—and I can’t fight anymore. I’ve lost.

“Don’t let go,” I say, clinging to him harder.

“Never.”

Emotion claws at my breastplate like a caged animal trying to tear free of its prison. My heart constricts, and finally the tears fall. They streak my temples, hot and quick, like a trail of fuel set ablaze.

Alex’s hand braces my throat, his thumb pressed to my pulse point, and seals us together with a severe kiss. I’m dragged down by the undertow. All fight gives over as a surge of emotion rushes to the surface.

Sex doesn’t feel this way. Something is wrong—something is very, very wrong with me, and it webs inside, sticking to my insides like tar.

I push past the fear and fall further into Alex and the kiss. The place safe enough for me to release.

My inner walls clamp around him, and as the orgasm fires through me, a feeling so overwhelming it defies words sweeps through, decimating me.

I sense the moment Alex breaks; his body hard and tensing, his cock pulsing against my walls as he groans, and as I straddle the wave with him, I feel the chill bumps rise along his skin.

Alex collapses on top of me, and the full weight of his body on top of mine is an unexpected comfort. His breaths are heavy and uneven. I listen to him breathe as the aftershocks pulse and ebb throughout my body.

I’m relieved that he takes his time recovering, because the tear tracks still stain my face, and I’m terrified about what he’ll see in my eyes. I’m terrified to look at myself—fearing the reflection of the emotions that ripped me apart and the wreckage they left behind.

As the tide recedes, it takes with it the unwanted feelings, and exhaustion claims my body.

Alex lifts up onto his elbows and stares down. He uses his thumb to wipe the tears away. I turn my head, preferring the cold, unforgiving rock to his probing gaze.

“Don’t hide,” he says, and my immediate reaction is to do just that.

He rests his hand on my chest, right above my heart. And with a frantic start, I realize what he feels. My heartbeat is racing. My pulse thumps so hard I can feel the beat of it against his palm.

Dread over what that means barrels through me, and I move away from his touch. “Let me go.”

With languid movements, Alex does as I ask, slowly sitting up to brace his forearms on his knees. “It’s okay to feel what you’re feeling. It’s normal.”

I run my hands through my hair. “I just need…quiet.”

“You’re overstimulated. Just relax.” He eases behind me, placing me between his legs.

His touch abrasive over my raw skin. I try to fight out of his hold, but he bands his arms around me, tucking me securely against him.

“Trust me,” Alex says, then he slips his hand between my thighs.

It’s almost painful as his fingers swirl over my clit, but soon the pain transitions to that ravenous, lusty need that pulls low in my belly. Alex tangles his free hand in the length of my damp hair, his mouth landing on the sensitive junction between my neck and shoulder.

“Fuck, you feel so goddamn good,” he whispers across my heated flesh. “I never want to stop touching you.”

My breathing intensifies, my breasts push against his forearm as I claw at the rock.

It happens fast. The orgasm takes hold, my core clenching around the hollow ache as he continues to circle his fingertips over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Chest loosening, my head goes light with the euphoric little pulses fluttering through my body.

I fall back against his chest, unable to fight the crash. The calming effect is instant. La petite mort. The little death. Some part of me died with Alex, and I don’t know how to mourn it, or if I should.

How can something so tragic be so beautiful.

Alex places a tender kiss below my earlobe. “Overactive nervous system,” he says in way of explanation. “Your brain is trying to sort every new sensation. It needed more pleasure points to map.”

His arms shield me as the water tumbles down the rock face around us. My breathing slows and evens out, my body acclimates to the tranquil water.

I despise every word that leaves his mouth—and yet, he’s the expert. Even when it comes to sex, Alex is in control of the sensations I feel. I tense with that realization and a restlessness takes hold. All serenity shattered.

I push forward and scramble away from the comforting heat of his body.

I lied to Alex. I lied and I felt nothing. I told him his treatment worked. I told him I had these feelings…and I felt nothing about the lie—a lie that was supposed to save my life.

Now, that same lie is tormenting me, because I made it true.

I felt every connected second with him inside me.

“I’m cracked,” I say to myself. Alex broke my brain back in his crude lab, and none of this is real. “I have to get the hell out of here.”

Everything that just transpired between us is all in my very fucked-up head. Wires are crossed. Neurons are misfiring. And it will all end as soon as I’m free of this place and Alex. Whatever visceral disease has infected me, I have to stop it from spreading.

I flee Alex’s arms and dive into the river.

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20

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ENTROPY

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ALEX

There’s a scientific word for the physical and conceptual state of chaos. By definition, entropy is the measurable state of disorder, unpredictability, or uncertainty.

In a closed system, entropy can only increase, therefore the process is irreversible.

You can never return to the state at which you started.

Blakely and I are inside an isolated system of our making. The cascade of the waterfall. The current of the river. The isolation of the cliffs. The forest and night that surrounds, cocooning us in a sheltered haven.