“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 match setting a trail of oil ablaze.
Alex braces a hand to my neck, thumb pressed to my pulse, 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 walls clamp around Alex, 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 last shockwaves 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, Blakely. 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.
My skin is raw. His touch abrasive against my nerves. I try to fight out of his hold, but he wraps his arms around me, tucking me securely to him.
“Trust me,” Alex says. Then he slips his hand between my thighs.
It’s almost painful as he touches the pads of his fingers to my clit, but soon the pain transitions to that ravenous, lusty need that I can sense in my lower back. Alex wraps his free hand around the length of my hair and holds it aloft, his mouth landing on the sensitive juncture between my neck and shoulder.
It happens fast. The orgasm takes hold, my sex clenching as he circles his fingers over my clit.
My chest tightens, my head goes light, and euphoric little pulses of sensation flutter through my body.
I fall back against his chest, unable to fight the crash of my body. 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…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, as way of explanation. “Your brain is trying to sort every new sensation. It needed more pleasure points to map out.”
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 Alex.
“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.
20
Entropy
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.
And yet, the uncertainty is in a state of increase.
The moment Blakely dives into the river, all sure and measurable knowledge of what I know about her, about us, becomes corrupt. Fear is the result of uncertainty, and my fear of the unknown escalates as I jump in after her.
I splash to the surface near her. “What are you doing?”
She wades through the dark water, searching and collecting her clothes. “I’m cold.”
“Wet clothes won’t remedy that.” I reach out for her, but she avoids my touch.
Pain lances sharply, a knife plunged right through my chest wall. She won’t stop moving, searching, running her hands through her tangled, wet hair.
“Blakely, stop.” I try to gain her full attention. “You’re acting erratic.”
She shrugs her shirt on over her head, fighting the soaked material down her body. If she’s trying to hide herself from me, she’s failing, because I can see every beautiful curve of her body, the contour of her breasts, her pebbled nipples.
I look her over, remembering the feel of being inside her, the connection. “You could roll around in mud and you’d still be the sexiest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
Her breaths are labored, chest heaving as if she’s just swam the length of the river. Her eyes flare and take aim on me like lethal weapons. “And you’re sick. The most sadistic creature I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
I wipe the water from my face. “Erratic and irrational,” I say, reasoning the lingering side effects. “Your neural pathways are new, like a muscle that needs to be conditioned. We need to take this slow—”
Her mocking laugh clips short. “I think taking it slow failed majorly the moment you sank your cock in me.” She shoves at the water, as if trying to push me farther away. Then, with a resolute expression, she goes still. “Logic won’t explain this, Alex. This is just…fucked up.”