“Dammit, Ethan!” I shout, my voice muffled by the goo. I lick my lips and wipe them with the back of my hand, trying to get rid of the stickiness while Ethan grins at me, completely proud of himself.

“That’s a good look for you,” he says, brushing his fingers along my bottom lip and wiping off some of the goo. He licks his fingers and I pull a face because I really do hate melted marshmallows. “Tastes good too,” he mutters, his humor shifting to desire as he eyes my lips. Then suddenly he’s cupping the back of my head and drawing me in for a kiss. The moment his lips crash into mine, I forget what we were talking about or even that we’re in the mountains. I just kiss him back, willingly parting my lips to let his wet tongue slide into my sticky mouth.

“Really good,” he whispers against my mouth, and then kisses me again, his fingers threading through my hair and pulling gently at the roots, making my skin tingle.

My fingers wander up his back, my hands trembling with the abundance of emotions I feel for him. Want. Desire. Need. It’s so terrifying. Knowing how bad I want this. Want him. And that one day maybe it could be all gone.

In almost a desperate move, I pull him closer to me, clinging on to him, the heat of his body warming up the chilly breeze of the mountains. It also warms up my heart, makes me feel the slightest bit better and content, and reminds me that despite the fact that I might never get married—that I have no idea where we’re headed—having moments like these with Ethan is completely and utterly worth drifting into the unknown.

I just wish it could be different.

Ethan

We’ve been on the road for almost a month now, living off of the money we saved up after five months of working—me in construction and working part-time as a bartender, and Lila waitressing and working at a clothing store on the weekends. We were supposed to go earlier but it took longer to save up than I’d planned. But we busted our asses off, saving everything we could so we could live on the road for a month straight. It’s been amazing—every day is with Lila. The only thing that sucks is that we’re heading back to Vegas tomorrow, back to life and the real world, popping the secluded, quiet bubble we’ve built around us during our road trip.

Still, I’m trying to make the best of our last night here, especially because she seems sort of down and I hate seeing her down. It worries me a little, since in the past she used pills as a way not to feel her sadness. She was addicted to them for a very long time and I was the one who helped her with the addiction, watched her struggle with it, but conquer it. She’s had such a hard life and I want her to be happy all the time, even though that’s impossible… I wish I could find a way to make it possible.

After I push the marshmallow into Lila’s mouth, I feel her mood lighten, which was what I was trying to accomplish. But my playfulness quickly turns to desire as she tries to lick the goo off her lips. I want to taste it—taste her—so I kiss her fiercely while I start to back us toward the tent. My hands travel up the back of her shirt and I savor the softness of her skin as I try to find the zipper to the door of the tent with my other hand. I manage to get the tent unzipped without disconnecting our lips; then I guide her inside and down onto her back onto the sleeping bags before covering her body with mine. I kiss her until she becomes breathless, until she’s clutching my arms so tightly her fingernails are scraping my skin and she begs me to be inside her.

I nearly lose it right there. She’s too beautiful for her own good and it makes lasting long nearly impossible. “Fuck, Lila, you’re going to make this end quickly if you keep saying stuff like that,” I say, pulling away to remove her jacket. She eagerly helps me, slipping her arms out of the sleeves. Then I tug her shirt off and unhook her bra, laughing when she gets the strap tangled up and stuck on her arm. Finally after a lot of laughing, I get it off and toss it aside, then lower my lips back to hers and slip my tongue deep inside her mouth, which tastes like marshmallow.

“Ethan…” She groans, lacing her fingers through my hair as she curves her back, pressing her chest against mine.

I grip her hip with one hand, pulling her closer to me until there’s no room left between us. Then my fingers slide up her side as I devour the taste of her. When I reach her breast, I graze my finger across her nipple and she gasps in response, her legs fastening around me. Our tongues tangle and our breaths mix as she grinds her hips against mine and rubs up against me. I move with her, listening to her moan and gasp and plead until I can’t take it anymore. I lean back and yank my shirt off, throwing it to the side of the tent. Then I undo the button on her jeans and she impatiently helps me as I slip them down her legs. When I get to her ankles, she kicks off the jeans and strips off her panties. Then she reaches to pull me to her, but I shake my head and hold on to her ankle.

“What’s wrong?” she says, practically panting.

I don’t respond as I kiss a path up the inside of her leg all the way to her thigh, breathing her in with each touch of my mouth. I pause at the top, looking down at her as she stares up at me, her eyes wide and full of want. It’s dark, but the glow of the moon and the fire outside glimmers in through the screen and open door on the tent. She’s beautiful, flawless skin, full lips, wide, glittering eyes, and her breathing is ravenous, revealing how nervous she is and how much she trusts me to be with her like this, touching her in a way no one else has, because I love her.

I trace my fingers across her collarbone and she sighs, her eyelids fluttering shut. “I want you inside me,” she whispers, her back arching against my touch. “Please, Ethan… I can’t take it anymore.”

I smile as I slowly lower my mouth to her breast. “I want to touch you everywhere… God, I want you…,” I breathe against her skin, savoring the moment before taking her nipple into my mouth. She moans, her breath hitching, and her fingers find my hair again as I suck a little bit harder.

Both of us are sweaty and gasping and finally my mouth leaves her nipple just so I can breathe. I want more, though. Need fucking more. So I make a path of kisses down her stomach, sucking on her skin. When I reach her thighs, I spread them and she grasps on to me as I dip my face between her legs and slide my tongue deep inside her. My eyes slip shut… my fingers tightening around her thighs… God, the taste of her never gets old—never will. None of this will.

I continue to taste her while her hips writhe against my mouth, until I feel like I’m going to explode; then I pull away and kiss my way up her stomach and chest to her mouth. Her lips part as I slide my tongue in for a kiss that makes both of us groan. I work to get the button of my jeans undone as she grips my arms, holding me to her, kissing me fervently. I only pull away to take my jeans and boxers off. Then I get a condom out of my wallet, put it on, and situate back between her legs.

With one hard thrust, I’m sliding deep inside her. Our lips connect somewhere in the middle and I grip her thigh, bending one of her legs up to my side as I rock into her. She rhythmically moves with me, our skin dampening with sweat, until we become lost in each other over and over again. Eventually we cry out together as I give one final thrust inside her, then we lose ourselves completely.

Afterward, I lie still inside her with my head on her chest, feeling her pulse race as she rests against the sleeping bags, running her fingers through my hair. “You have the softest hair,” she whispers with an exhausted sigh.

I push up from her and look her in the eyes. “Is that supposed to be a compliment? Because I’m not sure if a guy’s hair should be soft,” I tease.

She continues to rub her fingers through my hair. “Yeah, it should be. And yours is the softest.”

I chuckle under my breath and then return my head back onto her chest. It gets really quiet as she continues to run her fingers through my hair. I listen to the fire crackling outside, the sound of an owl in the distance, and the river flowing through the trees.

“God, it sucks that we have to head home tomorrow,” I say, letting out a loud breath.

“I know you’re sad,” she says. “And I’m sort of sad that we won’t be spending as much time together, but at the same time I’m really, really excited about taking a real shower.”

I smile, shaking my head. “Not me. If I could, I’d keep doing this forever.” I yawn, feeling exhaustion take me over. “Although, I’ll admit. I do sort of get sick of driving. I’d love to take a break from that.”