I hate him.

I try to maintain a calm exterior, but my insides vibrate with rage at just the thought of her alone with him and at his cruel mercy. He intimidated her, insulted her, touched her. I have never hated that little shit as much as I do right now.

But this isn't about me, so I swallow my anger and hold her for several long minutes, the heat and pressure from her body calming my nerves. I'm supposed to be comforting her, but here she is calming me. The longer I touch her the less I think about Montgomery and the more I focus on the way she feels against me. I feel my muscles relax and anger slowly seep from my pores. I kiss her again, softly.

"You're good for me, you know?" I ask as I slide back in the stool next to her. She gives me a soft smile in return.

We fall into a comfortable chatter while we finish our meal. When she's done, I immediately rise and take our plates to the sink. She follows me and slips her arms around my waist, leaning into me and resting her cheek on my back. The feel of her pressed against me is perfection.

"You cooked, why don't you let me clean this up?" She releases my waist and stands next to me by the sink. I tense at her words and wipe my sweaty palms down my pajama pants.

"Don't worry about it. I got it." I press another kiss to the top of her head and subtly inhale. I hope she brought that mint shampoo with her. It's my favorite scent.

She lingers, inspecting my face and posture. "You have to be the one to clean it up, don't you?"

I exhale. "Yeah."

"Do you need to do it now?" My heart races at just the thought of leaving the dirty dishes in the sink. I squeeze the knot at the back of my neck.

"Yeah, kind of."

"Okay, do you want company?" She perches on the edge of the countertop as I turn to the sink and rinse the dishes. Her legs swing occasionally as we chat, her heels striking the cabinet below with a slight thud. She tilts her head to the side as she talks. Her inspecting gaze studies my movements.

I turn toward her. "You're making me nervous."

She laughs. "Good nervous or bad nervous?"

"I'm always a little good nervous around you." She must like that response because she leans forward and rewards me with a small kiss, then a big smile.

"But I'm also a little worried you think I'm weird. Too particular."

The corners of her mouth drop to a frown and my heart stops.

"No, I don't think you're weird at all." I turn the water off and dry my hands on a dish towel. I turn to her, raising an eyebrow.

"Okay, making the bed this morning with me still in it was a little weird, but no weirder than my panic attacks. You didn't bail on me the first time I had a panic attack. Or the second. Or the third." She reaches forward and traces the edge of my jaw. "I'm just trying to figure it out. To learn you."

I sigh.

I'm in love with you, Blaise. The words are on the tip of my tongue when she abruptly changes the subject.

"So, what's on the agenda today?" She asks. I rinse our plates and open the dishwasher. I try to focus on my task, but my eyes keep wandering to the hard nipples straining against her shirt.

"I don't have an agenda." It's only a partial lie. My agenda is her. Getting as much of her as I can in the next two days before it's back to a reality I don't even want to think about right now.

"We can stay in. Maybe watch some movies. There's no wifi here, but there are some DVDs and a small library in the reading nook upstairs." Her eyes light up at the mention of books. "Or we could go into town if you want." She wrinkles her nose.

"What if someone saw us together? How would we possibly explain that?" She has a point, but it's highly unlikely. This is a small town in the middle of nowhere. I've literally never seen another student or University employee here.

On the other hand, I like the idea of having her all to myself.

"Good point. We should just never leave this cabin." She nods in agreement.

I move a few cups around, making room for our plates. Loading the dishwasher is one of my favorite chores. I love the strategy involved in finding the perfect spot for each dish and the challenge of organizing everything just right so it all fits in one load. It's like adult Tetris.

She crosses her legs and the shirt rides further up her naked thighs, teasing me, tempting me. My hands tingle with the urge to touch her.

I dry my hands and step in front of her, between her parted legs. I reach for her hand and intertwine our fingers together. My other hand moves automatically, instinctually, sliding up her leg and underneath her shirt. She wraps her legs around my waist, and I kiss her down her neck.

"There are still dishes in the sink," she chides, releasing my hand and throwing her arms over my shoulders. I don't actually care right now. My lips move to her earlobe, and she tilts her head to the side, granting me easier access.

"Maybe they can wait this once," I surprise myself by saying. She seems to like that idea. She tightens her legs around my waist and pulls herself closer to me. "Did you have plans for the day?" I ask, "Anything on your agenda?"

When she doesn't respond, I pull back and look at her face. She's biting her lip and her eyes flick across the room, over my shoulder. A blush works its way up her neck. I look over my shoulder and try to follow the path of her darting gaze.

Hot tub. Couch. Door.

Hot tub. Couch. Door.

I can't help the grin that spreads across my face. I tickle the spot under her ribs that I know will send her into hysterics, and sure enough, she collapses against my chest in a fit of giggles.

"Oh Blaise. What am I going to do with you?" My tone is light and playful, but the tone of the room darkens as my eyes follow her path. Hot tub. Couch. Door.

"Oh, I know exactly what you're going to do with me," she responds. "I'm just trying to figure out where."

I laugh and reach over to close the dishwasher, a few dirty forks and her coffee mug remain in the sink, so I don't start it yet. I turn back to her, and my hands move on instinct again, sliding up her thighs and under her shirt.

"The front door is tempting, but I vote hot tub." Her eyes widen and her cheeks redden, but a wide grin crosses her face before she responds.

"I like the way you think."

I let my fingers wander and am very pleased to discovery she's not wearing anything under this shirt. She leans forward and slips her hands under the elastic waistband of my pajama pants, pushing them to the floor.

We don't make it to the hot tub. We don't even make it off the kitchen counter.

***

Saturday and Sunday pass in a blissful blur. We do nothing eat, sleep, lounge and make love. Seventy-two hours alone with her without even the distraction of cell phones or wifi is a type of joy I didn't even know existed. But I have to have her back in Adair in time to prepare for her interview, and the closer we get to Monday morning, the more I stew over unsaid words and our unsure future.

We make love again on Sunday night, but this time the way she makes love to me is unsettling. It's too intense, too desperate. She clings to me like she's afraid I'll slip away. She keeps her eyes open the entire time and I usually want the eye contact, need it. But this time it's different, her eyes roll over me like she's trying to memorize every moment. Like it's the last time. It's terrifying.

After, she slips on another one of my oversized sweaters and cuddles up to me, my back leaning against the headboard and her back leaning against me, while some cheesy Christmas movie plays on the flat screen above the crackling fireplace. I appreciate the intimate moment. God, I'm going to miss this.

She laughs at the movie and snuggles closer to me, and I get a whiff of her shampoo. I kiss the top of her head and she smiles up at me.

"I'm going to miss this," she sighs.

I grin. "I was just thinking the same thing."

"I can't believe we'll be back in Adair tomorrow." She chews on a cuticle, then quickly lowers her hand and takes a deep breath. I wait patiently for her to say whatever it is that's bothering her. It's probably the same thing gnawing at me. "So, what does happen? After tomorrow?" She finally asks.

"I can't answer that because it's not entirely up to me. But I can tell you I don't want this to end." She lets out an exhale.

"Me neither," she responds with a smile. "I've been trying to think of a solution all weekend."

"I've been trying most of the year," I reply, and she laughs. God, I love her laugh.

"Come up with any good ideas?" She asks.

I nod, slowly. I wanted to have more of the details worked out before I mentioned this to her. I don't want to get her hopes up. But I also don't like keeping things from her. "I have a business idea. You came up with it, actually, but I've been working on it."

She sits up and turns toward me. "What do you mean business idea? Are you thinking of quitting your job?"

I nod, and her eyes widen. She either doesn't believe me, or she doesn't understand how serious I am about this. About her. Probably because I haven't told her.

"James. That is insane. You don't have to quit your job. I can transfer. I can continue my education anywhere." 

I shake my head. Not an option. "You have a full ride to a top ranked private university. You can't give that up. That's nonnegotiable. And this is an idea I'm really excited about."

I explain the structure and mission of the consulting business, and she seems to relax when she realizes I'll still be doing what I love, helping students get into college, only this way I can use my knowledge and experience to help them find the right fit for them. And I'd be building a business. The idea of having that kind of control over my career and financial future is appealing. She must be able to sense my excitement, because by then end of my spill she's grinning along with me.

"It sounds perfect! How soon can you get it up and running?"

That's the only problem with this plan. "I can't get funding or register the LLC until I'm off probation."

Her face falls. "So, in six months? This summer?"

I nod. I hate that this is still hanging over my head. That it's impacting her. If we keep this going, I know the next semester is going to be harder on her than me. She's the one taking the bigger risk. I have the urge to protect her, to put this relationship on pause, just for the next six months. But Martha was right, Blaise's decisions aren't mine to make. 

"So, for the next six months, we -" she stops and raises an eyebrow.

"We either put this on pause, or we keep it a secret."

She pauses and shuts her eyes while she thinks. "If we stop seeing each other, just temporarily, that's the safest option." 

The idea of not touching her for another six months is physically painful, like a blow to the chest. 

I nod. "Yes." 

"But if we keep seeing each other, in secret, that's a lot more fun."

I grin. "Yes."

"What do you want?" she asks. I'm frustrated, because I want this to be her decision, without my influence or persuasion. I'm frustrated because I don't know the right thing to say. So I give up, and just tell her the truth.

"You. I just want you. I want a relationship with you. And if we have to keep our relationship a secret for a while, I'll do whatever it takes to make that work. I don't have it all figured out, I just know-" I pause, suddenly terrified to say the words.

"You know what, James?"

My hand reaches out involuntarily with the need to touch her. My thumb brushes across her cheekbone, and my fingers curl under her jaw. I press up lightly, tilting her chin until she raises her head and her eyes meet mine.

"I know that I love you. That I am so very in love with you."