Alistair and I had settled into a comfortable lull. We still hadn't discussed what had happened between us and I wondered if we ever would. Either way, I wasn't bothered by it anymore, I just wanted to move forward. We rotated between moseying around the village, heading into the city, and going swimming. Somehow, though a habit had formed, it was still relatively new and exciting.

I had started taking out the digital camera Alistair had purchased for me and snapping photos of everything and anything. When this disaster had first started I thought the camera was a stupid cover that I would never use. It just reminded me that I was pretending to be something I wasn't. But now, I realized that this was going to be a prominent part of my life. It didn't matter how this whole catastrophe turned out, I had been to Spain and France and Amsterdam. I had done wonderful and difficult things that deserved to be remembered. I had lived through it and it was time to embrace it.

Alistair was always patient when I tried desperately to get the best shot that I could. He would wait a few steps away from me or stand behind me and try to see the shot that I was lining up for himself. Sometimes he got so caught up in the world around him that it was me waiting for him.

When he wasn't looking I would turn and snap a couple of him as well. I would wait until his shoulders stopped hunching and he would be looking at something in awe and wonder. After a few discrete shots he caught me with my lens pointed directly at him and immediately demanded that if he had to be in pictures I had to be in some too. I complied, but I usually wasn't able to stop myself from laughing whenever he took pictures of me.

And after I exhausted myself trying to get various pictures he would take me to quiet cafes that few had heard of or we would dip into bustling bakeries for the world's best pastries.

"Get any good pictures?" Alistair asked, coming up behind me in the kitchen after one of our adventures.

I, like the easily excitable human I was, had stopped in the middle of the kitchen, my elbows resting on the counter as I flicked through the pictures on my camera.

"Mhmm."

"Can I look?"

"Mhmm."

Alistair smoothly slipped one arm around my waist, his hand resting on my hip. The gesture caused the briefest pause in my flicking, but I forced my attention back on the photos. Most of them were of the architecture that had surrounded me through the past weeks. I loved photographing the buildings that were brushed with snow like a light layer of glittering diamonds. It made the pictures appear as magical as this place felt.

"That one." Alistair announced after being quiet for a few moments.

I paused, looking at the photo that he pointed out. It was one that he had taken of me. I was standing in front of the beautiful cathedral he had taken me to shortly after we had arrived here. I was wearing my ugly second-hand jacket with a warm sweater beneath. My hands were stuffed into my pockets to keep them warm as a massive gust of wind blew, my hair twirled around in all kinds of directions. But through my dark brown and purple hair you could see the bright smile that lit up my face as I laughed at the silliness of the whole thing.

"That one is my favorite." Alistair breathed, his lips so terribly close to my ear.

I briefly wondered if he knew how different I looked a few years ago, how timid and lifeless I appeared to be. Or is he knew how shy and skittish I would've looked in a new city if I didn't have someone like him beside me. Through our wild journey together I had grown so much.

In this picture I had such an elated and easy expression on my face. Through feeling completely absurd I had forgotten all about Josh and the hell he had brought upon my life for a brief moment.

And it was Alistair that made me feel that way.

"Here." I whispered, almost to myself, slowly straightening up off the counter.

I rapidly sorted through so of the images until I reached the one I had in mind.

"This is my favorite." I admitted, feeling my cheeks turn bright red. I was thankful he was behind me and couldn't see it. I was twenty four and had previously been highly successful. Now I was acting like a school girl.

"And why is this your favorite?" he asked.

His mouth edged closer to my ear. I could feel his teeth nibble ever so gently on the lobe. It was such a careful touch it was almost like it wasn't there at all, but it made my knees go weak.

"I captured the real you." I managed, my words coming out breathy and unrefined.

But the words were true. I had managed to photograph a very specific and fragile moment. If I had been a second later it would've been gone.

Alistair's head had been tipped back, looking at my favorite cathedral with his usual expression of content wonder. But when I had swung my camera around, ready to take a picture of him, he had seen the movement and started to turn towards me, not fully aware of what I was doing. Mixed in with all that wonder and simple happiness was also an amused smile that was matched by a playful and teasing look in his green eyes. His dark hair was messy and he had swapped out his suit jackets and ties for a bulky jacket and mismatched mittens. He was as natural as I had ever seen him.

He didn't look like an agent. He didn't look like a young business man. He just looked like Alistair.

And I loved it.

The arm around my waist slowly tightened up. I took a small step back and Alistair's strong chest was pressed up against my back. I heard his breath catch for a split second when I subtly tilted my head to one side, exposing more of my neck.

"Camila." He whispered, his grip on me loosening very suddenly.

I turned around to face him, confused by the change in his demeanor.

"I want to try something." He explained, his green eyes searching mine, "But I need to know that you're comfortable with me pushing you and I need to know that if it becomes too much for you you'll tell me no."

I had no idea what he had in mind. But I knew that I trusted him and I wanted to be closer to him. We were beyond agent and criminal. We were beyond casual friends. The hand holding, the constant whispering and subtle touches, it was all just a wild tease of something greater. There was entire part of our relationship that I was desperate to dive in to.

"I want to try. And if I can't handle it I will tell you to stop." I said.

"Do you promise? Last time I was able to feel it, this time I might not be able to. I don't want to push you into something you aren't ready for."

"I'm ready, Alistair, I promise."

Without another word he took one of my hands and led me to my bedroom. We stood in the room together. My body was trembling with sizzling excitement and an undercoat of fear. I wanted this to happen so badly but I was terrified that my awful memories would cause me to panic and ruin everything. We were always in such a delicate place, I didn't want to shatter it.

"We only go as far as you want to." Alistair said, like he could read my mind. "I won't be upset if you tell me to stop at any time."

I just nodded mutely, looking at my shaking hands.

Alistair's hands were quickly cupping my cheeks, bringing my face back up to his. My grey eyes searched his, wondering what he was thinking.

And then he was kissing me.

With my eyes shut I kissed him back. His lips moved roughly against mine, like he had been waiting a lifetime to do this. But even so, I could sense how much restraint he was putting on himself. There was a small distance between our bodies he refused to close and he kept his previously wandering hands on my face.

But he felt just as good as before. I was sure about this, I was positive that if I would allow anyone to push me it would be him. My trembling hands reached up on their own accord, one settling on his broad shoulder, the other slipping into his soft, dark hair.

That was enough encouragement for Alistair to begin. One hand stayed on the safety of my cheek while the other trickled downward. Stroking my neck, grazing my shoulder, tracing the edge of my arm. His touch was always light and smooth, but the roughness of his hands contrasted it. I felt goosebumps of delight rise on my skin and pressed my mouth against his harder, tracing his lip with my tongue. I wanted more.

And Alistair delivered. His roaming hand didn't settle on my hip like I expected. Once he reached the bottom of my arm he slipped his hand underneath and began working his way back up my side, starting at my hip and gliding upwards. My hip. My waist. My breathing started to come out rougher and harder with each centimeter he covered. The he was touching my ribs. The side of my breast.

I stiffened instantly at the touch, sucking in a low gasp. I was conscious that it was Alistair who was touching me, but it still induced anxiety within me.

But Alistair moved back ever so slightly, his eyes searching my face for a split second before his head dipped down and his mouth was leaving a trail of tender kisses on my neck. His hand left my breast and drifted up to my collar bone while the other settled in the small of my back.

I stood there, breathing in small gasps as my mind attempted to sort all of the stimulus that had flooded in.

I realized what he was doing. He had stopped kissing me on the lips so I could tell him to stop if I needed to, but he was continuing to touch me and kiss me as a way to keep the intensity alive. To keep my brain on the good, sensual sensations. And his hand slipped back down, finding the hem of my shirt and sneaking under it so he could touch the bare skin of my stomach. Then back out again, up my side and to my breast. Not groping, but stroking and tracing. A light, delicate touch that pushed my limits while staying safe and attentive.

And ever so slowly my hands that had balled into fists relaxed, my palms flat against Alistair once more. I was holding him again. And when he felt that, when he understood that I was comfortable with the progression, both of his hands slipped under the worn fabric of my shirt.

His mouth met mine again as his hands stroked the bare skin that was always hidden beneath clothing. I shivered at his gentle touch, but didn't pull away or stiffen at his advances. It felt so daring and so bold, yet lovely and tender. But he moved himself away from me once again, breaking the kiss and lowering his hands. He tugged at the hem of my shirt.

He wouldn't take off the clothing, knowing that it would be a large step for me. After a second of hesitation I grabbed the bottom of my shirt and pulled it over my head. I tossed it aside before I could reconsider and stood before Alistair in only my bra and jeans.

He just gawked for a moment. His eyes drifted over my bare chest, over the dull black bra that contained my breasts, down my stomach and back up to my face. I briefly wished I had bought a sexier bra, something that would enhance my rather plain body.

Alistair didn't seem to care. In a matter of seconds he was kissing me again.

His lips took away the anxiety of being shirtless. With each second I became more focused on having more of him and less concerned with my vulnerability. With each kiss his hands journeyed over the curves and valleys of my body. He would slide his hand over the curve from my slender waist to my wide hips or he would trail his fingers down my shoulders, letting the tips of his fingers caress the top of my breasts, curl ever so slightly underneath my bra, then continue down the padding to my ribs.

As the kissing deepened I wasn't fully conscious when considering his gentle roaming. All I could think about was the way his tongue moved, how I wanted him just as badly as I had the first time, and how good his hands felt on my body. I stopped concerning myself so intensely about exactly what he was doing.

After a few minutes Alistair eased away. He carefully tucked my hair behind my ear.

"When you're ready I want you to start taking off your jeans." He whispered.

I faltered. I wanted to do what he asked right away. I wanted to give him what he wanted and I didn't want to be denying myself any longer. Every second I made him wait was another second I had to tolerate as well. But the thought of being so exposed plagued my mind.

At least, until he tipped my head to one side and started nibbling on my jaw and ear, making me gasp in delight. It reminded me that I was going to have to push myself if I wanted him so completely. And God, did I ever want him. My fingers, working on some kind of sexually driven auto pilot, undid the button and zipper on my jeans.

Though I wasn't quite able to make myself take off my pants Alistair was more than enthused to assist, squatting down to help me. Within a few seconds I was only in my boring black bra and my cheap, red panties.

He then grabbed my hips and spun me around so I was facing my dresser. In the old mirror propped up on the wood I could see my reflection and Alistair standing behind me. He looked undeniably handsome and knowing that he was holding my nearly naked body put me in an almost giddy state despite my nervousness. His green eyes were alight with such scorching heat that it made me shiver and he watched my body tremble beneath his hands.

"You're so beautiful, Camila." He murmured in my ear.

I could say nothing in response. All I could think about was the way his touch wove up my stomach, in between my breasts, and down my arms. I felt the way his body was pushed up against my back and I could feel his need straining against his jeans and pressing up against the back of my flimsy panties. Fear and excitement ran through my blood stream when I thought about what he was capable of doing to me in that moment.

"I've wanted you like this for so long." He continued.

And his hands progressed back down my body. My waist. My hips. The outside of my thighs. My breathing wasn't coming in even anymore. I was breathing so heavily I was almost embarrassed, but I wasn't gasping in fear, it was frustration and the heavy desire for more. His fingers slid over the front of my thighs, dipping towards the inside.

He started drawing his fingers back upwards, centimeter by centimeter. Drawing closer.

"I want to kiss every inch of you." The fingers drifted higher still, closing the gap, nearing the apex. "I want to make you feel good, ma chérie."

At the last second his advances stopped. He moved away to stroke my shoulders and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. I almost let out a mew of disappointment, so thrilled with what Alistair was saying and the path that his fingers were following. I wanted someone to make me feel good. I wanted him to be aroused by the thought of my pleasure. I had never experienced it before and I wanted it now.

But before I could voice it in any way I felt the clasps of my bra loosen.

Then the boring black bra fell to the floor.

Alistair watched me closely in the mirror. I didn't move to stop him.

Fingers were hooked on the top of my panties.

They were dragged down my legs until the vibrant red fabric was no longer on my body.

"Lay down." Alistair whispered as he straightened back up.

I felt my body wobble as I took the few steps that led to the small bed. Adrenalin was pulsing through me at a maddening rate. My heart was thundered with anticipation as I slowly lowered myself onto the mattress, allowing my body to melt into the soft blanket beneath me.

Alistair followed closely, his eyes hungrily wandering over my whole body. It was like my nakedness consumed all of his attention and it made me feel incredibly sexy. Something I wasn't used to feeling. I saw the rate at which his chest rose and fell and I watched his hands clenched into fists, fighting the intense frustration and need that swirled within him. With careful, but fast movements he placed himself on top of me. Yes, he certainly wanted me.

But he just hovered there. His eyes were closed and his mouth was only an inch away from mine. I understood that he was fighting his own urges to respect my boundaries but I was tired of waiting. Just as I stretched up to kiss him, impatient, he moved away and pressed his mouth on my bare skin.

He started at my collarbone and worked his way downwards, kissing and licking every inch of exposed skin as he went. With every touch of his lips I felt my body temperature increase. I arched my back. I gripped the sheets. I let out breathy sighs. I made small noises I never thought I would make.

But when he reached my breasts and took a single nipple in his mouth I couldn't help but moan out loud. The taunt bud hardened even more in his mouth as he sucked and flicked his tongue around it. When he moaned at the contact the gentle vibrations made me cry out again. The other breast was cupped in one of his hands and he tenderly held that nipple between two fingers, rolling it ever so slowly.

I thought I wouldn't be able to handle it. I thought this would be my great collapse. The pleasure seemed so intense that I didn't know how Alistair could make it any better and I didn't think my body would be able to handle it much longer. We had only just truly begun and I was already so willing to be defeated.

He seemed to sense this and allowed me a few moments to collect myself. We both stayed perfectly still for two seconds.

His progression down my body restarted.

The softness of his lips and tongue on the delicate skin of my stomach made my body arch and move on its own accord. My hands slipped loosely into my own hair as my eyes fluttered shut, amazed at the intoxicating sensation that filled my soul. How had I been without such an incredible thing for so long?

Suddenly, he lightly scraped his fingers down the front of my stomach and I sucked in a gasp, my hips lifting at the sensation. The feeling was so strong I propped myself up on my elbows out of sheer shock as my body tingled with the smallest buzz of pain and a whirlwind of endorphins. When I stared down at Alistair I saw the slight smirk that was on his face before I let my elbows straighten and tumbled back down on the bedding.

The open-mouthed kisses had progressed to my thighs. Alistair kept me thoroughly distracted while he slowly parted my legs and eased his body between them. Then his lips were trailing up my inner thighs, making me shudder and gasp with every kiss. My whole body was shaking with anticipation and desire. I felt like I would be pushed over the cliff at any second and my muscles were clenched tightly with anticipation.

"Is this what you want, Camila?"

"Yes." I panted back.

Then his mouth was on my core.

There was nearly no pressure, the flicks of his tongue were timid and slow. But the hands that were in my hair now gripped it hard and my breath got stuck in my throat for a second. It was so minimal but it felt heavenly. And with every flick he became more confident, listening to the discrete noises I made to guide him in the right direction. My mind spun with delight.

When he finally brushed his mouth against the most sensitive part of my body I nearly cried out. His previously uninvolved hands now grabbed at my hips and pushed them back down onto the mattress in an attempt to control the erratic bucking. My hands clung to the sheets tightly and a constant stream of whimpers poured from my mouth. The pressure within me was becoming harder to handle with each second.

With every flick of his tongue, with every movement of his lips, he took me closer to what I so deeply needed. My chest heaved hard as I braced myself for what was coming all too quickly. I was so close, but it just wasn't enough yet.

Then his lips locked around the bud, surrounding my clit entirely and he sucked ever so slightly.

"Alistair." I whimpered, "Oh God, Alistair."

He just flickered his tongue over the bud, his hands still gripping my jerking hips as he did so. He moaned when my hand reached down and slid through his hair, trying to pull him closer to me.

The newness. The trust. The excitement. The friction.

It was all too much. Too intense.

My climax fell over me almost immediately.

My back arched up, my shoulders pressed down into the mattress. I tried to lift my hips, to press myself more firmly against Alistair's mouth, but his hands kept me down firmly. That, however, did not stop my body for completely clenching and unclenching repeatedly. My eyes rolled back. I was making sounds of pleasure but I didn't know if they were coming out in soft, barely audible moans or if I was screaming and I didn't care.

Wave after wave of pleasure hit me so suddenly and so harshly I felt like I was drowning, like my body would never come down from this high. My mind was filled with ecstasy and all I could think about was how his mouth felt on me. That he was making me feel good. That he thought I was beautiful.

I never wanted to come down from this wild high.

But each wave got smaller as time passed. Each tremor was lesser than the one before. The next moan was quieter than the previous.

And slowly my body gave out and melted into the blankets.