APRIL

I've never been on a plane before, no less a private plane with staff and luxury accommodations. As soon as we step inside, I'm transported into a different world. By now, I should be used to things like this given the mansion I live in, but I don't think these riches will ever cease to take my breath away.

"Oh, wow," I murmur, gazing around with wide eyes. There are six plush seats in groups of two that look comfortable enough to sleep in. There are a couple of sleek tables with charging stations, and a TV mounted on the wall - all the furniture in the room is a dark oak with cream cushioning.

"Do you like it?" Jackson asks, setting his messenger bag by the wall. "I had it custom-made last year."

"You made this?" I ask, still surveying the area. I want to ask how much it cost, but I don't - for two reasons. One, because it's not very polite to talk about money in such plain terms and two, I don't think I want to know. It might make me sick. Or worse, it might make me run right off the plane.

"Yes," he says. "Floor plan, interior design, everything. All me."

"Don't be so humble," I say, shooting him a smirk.

I sit in a seat adjacent to the window and let an arm fall to hit the armrest, and the jewels adorning my wrist catch my eye as I do. Last night, I'd been too drunk to take the bracelet off and this morning I couldn't bear to part with it. I told myself it's because I don't trust Antonio around my things while we're away, but a part of me knows better. I like wearing it. I can't put my finger on why, but it makes me feel a certain way that I never have before. I don't care about status; it's not that. I think it has more to do with who gave it to me.

Jackson talks to the staff cordially before making an unexpected move and sitting right next to me. He must notice my surprise as I look over with furrowed eyebrows, because he laughs and looks quite amused with himself. "Am I not allowed to sit next to my wife?" he says, speaking lightly.

"No, you… you are," I say, the words coming out a bit clunky. "I just didn't think you would."

"Best seat in the house," he says, leaning back. "Right here."

I cross one leg over the other to angle my body towards the window, and as a stewardess comes by, Jackson plants a hand on my thigh. Habitually, he rubs his thumb in circles and continues to do so as she speaks to us. "Can I get you anything, Mr. Avery?" she asks, then looks to me. "Mrs. Avery?"

"A whiskey neat would be great," he says, but I look at him with narrowed eyes. "What?" he says.

"It's 9am," I say. "You're not having a whiskey neat at 9am."

A glint appears in his eyes as the corner of his lips pull up. He keeps eye contact for a drawn-out second, then turns back to the stewardess. "A ginger ale then, please, Mariah," he amends, then looks to me. "Better?"

"Yes," I say. "I'll have a glass of orange juice, if you have it," I say.

"And the Western breakfast, too," Jackson says, then asks me, "Are you hungry?"

I shrug and say, "Not really."

He grins and tells Mariah, "She'll have spinach and cheese quiche, please. She'll only end up stealing mine if she doesn't have her own."

I nudge him with my shoulder after Mariah leaves. "I'm not very hungry," I say.

"You say that now," he says. "But it'll be a different story once my plate gets here and suddenly becomes your plate."

I wave him off and as I do, his eyes catch on the bracelet. I watch him notice it, but he doesn't call attention to it. I'm glad, because I have no idea how I would go about explaining why I'm still wearing it. I haven't even convinced myself that it means nothing, so it's unlikely I'd be able to do as much for him.

We're quiet for a while before our breakfast arrives, which gives me time to think about last night and everything it entailed. I hadn't been lying this morning when I said that I don't remember what I said past a certain point. I remember the actions - there's no way I couldn't - but whatever I spewed verbally is lost. For all I know, I could've recited the Preamble or spoken in tongues. Although, I assume he would've let on by now had I done either of those things.

Surprisingly, I'd enjoyed myself at the gala when that was the last thing I thought would happen. I felt beautiful in that dress in a way I never have before, and it wasn't because of how expensive it was. I felt beautiful because of the way Jackson looked at me, held me, and kept me close. I felt beautiful because, no matter how many other eyes were on me in that ballroom, his never wavered. He didn't feel the need to compete with anyone else because he knew that I was there for him, and he for me. It was all either of us needed. We're getting pretty good at this whole 'being married' gig.

Part of me wants to ask him what I said, but I keep my mouth shut. I know for a fact it'll only be embarrassing and he'll probably only make up something ridiculous to tease me. I don't want to get into that right now, not when we've been having a relatively calm morning. And I don't want to taint the first day of our sham honeymoon with what came from my loose lips.

The apples of my cheeks flush as I remember his face between my thighs last night. What I drunkenly said is only half the battle - he made me come like I never have before and the intimacy level was off the charts. He didn't take my underwear off, but that was the closest to stripped and bare I've felt with someone in a long time. Thinking about it now, I'm not put off in the slightest. In fact, it's quite the opposite. While picturing his mouth wide open with my hands in his hair, my body buzzes with the desire for more.

We're quiet as we eat, but Jackson offers me intermittent forkfuls of his breakfast that I eagerly take. Mine is good and I finish every last bit, but he still lets me have his bacon and we nurse the same cup of orange juice after he decides water isn't enough.

After our plates are cleared and taken away, my eyes grow heavy. I can't get comfortable in the seat, though, because of how freezing I am. The blanket doesn't help; goosebumps still rise on my skin and rubbing my arms does nothing. "Are you cold?" Jackson asks, looking over after taking out his earbuds.

"I'm fine," I say, knees drawn up as I rub my eyes.

He smiles a bit. "You're tired," he says, extending an arm. "Did you know that it's common for a person's body to get cooler when they're sleepy? That's your system shutting down and moving slower. Come here, I'll keep you warm."

"No, you're busy," I say, curling further into myself.

"I'm not," he says, clicking the phone screen off and putting it to the side. "I'll go to sleep, too, if it'll make you feel better. I won't just sit here and watch you like you've done to me."

"I've never done that," I murmur.

"Come here, April," he says, nodding his head.

"You don't have to," I say.

"If you don't feel comfortable, I understand. But why are you acting like this is something new? You fall asleep with your cold toes on my shins every night. Yesterday, I made you come so hard that your legs were shaking."

I flush a brilliant red, I'm sure. "Be quiet," I hiss.

"Sorry," he says, though his smile tells me he's anything but remorseful that he said it. "All I'm saying is that you don't need to feel awkward. We have a long ride ahead, and I make an excellent pillow. But if you'd rather lean against the window and freeze to death - please, be my guest."

"Fine," I say, scooting closer.

"Well, don't do it just for my benefit," he says, and I can tell he's joking though I can't see his face anymore.

"Quiet," I say, resting a flat hand on his chest as I get situated. I pull my body close and he wraps an arm around me, tucking it in to rest a flat hand on the outside of my rib cage. I throw a leg over both of his and nestle my cheek over his heartbeat, lulled to a state of calmness by its steady thumping.

"There you go," he says, no longer joking but soothing instead. "Better?"

"Yeah," I say, growing sleepier by the second.

"Alright," he says. "Go to sleep, then."

I can't help the small smile that finds its way to my face. With my eyes closed and my body pressed against every inch of his, I let myself relax and fall asleep. I don't even dream; it's a restful nap that makes me feel refreshed upon waking up. I lift my head to look at him only to have his chin fall forward - it had been resting on my crown and without the support, goes boneless. He fell asleep, too.

Smirking, I reach up and touch his face with one finger, tracing the outline of his beard. I skim over the smooth surface of his slackened lips, then the angle of his strong nose. I sling that arm around his shoulders to pull myself closer, then kiss the corner of his mouth gently to wake him. I don't know why I do it, really. It feels right and I don't stop myself - it makes his eyelids flutter open almost instantly. "Mmm…" he groans. "Hey, sweet pea." He squeezes me, but I don't know if he means to. I don't stop him; in fact, I lean in further. "I didn't mean to fall asleep on top of you."

"I didn't mind," I whisper, taking note of the pet name and begging my face not to flush. I've never been called something like that in my life - something so soft, so endearing, so natural over everything. I'm not even sure if he heard himself say it.

"Oh, so now you don't mind," he says, swiping my hair away from my forehead so he can kiss it. "When before, I basically had to coerce you over here."

"I feel better now. I got my beauty rest," I say.

He smiles, eyes still bleary. "You don't need rest for that," he says, then pulls me close by the back of my neck to plant a soft, sleepy kiss to my lips. My heart pounds double-time; I can't believe how married we're acting, how intimate all of this is. It's potentially even more intimate than last night, when his tongue was almost inside me.

"Jackson," I say, unable to get my mind to slow down in any capacity.

He closes his eyes and leans his head back again, returning to a state of relaxation as he says, "Hmm."

I don't know why I put the words out there instead of just leaving it unspoken. I know it's only going to make things awkward, but I can't leave it. It's too confusing to just leave. "Did you mean to call me that?" For some reason, I can't get the nickname past my lips - it doesn't slip out in the easy way it came for him.

"Call you what?" he asks.

"Sweet pea," I murmur, nearly whispering.

His eyes come open and he studies me, but I can't look at his face. I shouldn't have said anything. We're married, we have to act like it. We're around people who are unfamiliar with our situation. "Did you not like it?" he asks. "If you didn't, I'll stop. I won't do it again."

"No, no… I… I just didn't know if you meant to," I stammer, wringing my hands.

"I did," he says.

"Oh."

"Should I not have?"

I shake my head quickly, chewing the inside of my lip. "No, it was good."

"Alright."

"Why, though?" I ask, even though my brain is shouting at me to drop the subject and just go along to get along.

"I don't know. It just came out, I guess."

"Oh," I say again. "Okay."

I close my mouth and rest my head on his chest again. It takes him a minute to loosen up, but before long that same arm comes around to envelop me in and keep me close. I shut my eyes, but I know I won't be able to fall asleep again.

…

When we arrive at our resort, I can't seem to catch my breath. "Welcome to Huvafen Fushi Maldives," a tall, kind man says. "Please, enjoy your stay."

He leaves us at the head of a long dock that leads to our private cabana, but my feet won't move. Jackson's hand is on the small of my back as he stands beside me, taking it all in as well.

"Oh, my god," I murmur, blinking against the bright afternoon sun. I have no idea what time it is back home, but right now that doesn't matter. We're in a completely different world, one that's all our own. I've never been somewhere so beautiful. The water is unbelievable - in some places it's a deep blue and in others so clear I can count the grains of white sand on the bottom. The sky is crystalline and the air is pure, my lungs have never felt so full. I'm alive and seemingly realizing it for the first time.

"Gorgeous, isn't it," Jackson says, drawing me in a bit tighter to his side.

"Yes," I say, one hand to my heart. "I… I can't believe it. It doesn't seem real."

"It's very real," he says. "Should we go see our room?"

"One second," I say, and close my eyes for a moment. I let the sun soak into my skin, feel how firmly my feet are planted into the ground, and take a deep breath. I want to remember this moment because I've never had anything like it and I know I won't get something like it again.

"We have all week," he says, and drops an unexpected kiss on my cheek. "You don't have to take everything in right this moment."

I open my eyes and look at him. His eyes are the same color as the water and he seems so much lighter than he does at home, like a different person. Because of this, an involuntary smile makes my lips twitch until the grin takes over my whole face, and I slowly twine my arms around his neck. "Thank you," I say. "For bringing me here. For showing me this. I would've never been able to see something like this had you not…"

"Shh…" he says, then kisses me swiftly. "You're welcome, but you don't need to thank me. You're an Avery; you're my wife. Only the best."

My heart thumps with the gravity of his words and actions. Who are we pretending for? Is there a chance that I really have feelings for him, and he for me? I'm not so stupid as to deny the butterflies he gives me when we kiss and touch or the way he's able to melt me in the palm of his hand. He was attractive before, but something changed between us at the gala. The feelings went deeper. I saw him as a real person for the first time, true and genuine. He showed me a side of himself I don't think anyone else has seen, and that's what has put me on unsteady ground. I don't know how to catch my footing, and I don't know if I should.

The room is immaculate, of course, but I'm not concerned with what's inside. Rather, I'm enamored with the view. I drop everything and walk to the balcony in a white sundress that I changed into, and rest my forearms on the clear glass half-wall that separates us and miles and miles of ocean. As far as I can see, there's nothing else. I had no idea a place like this existed. In the same world where my family and I lived in a shack and could barely make rent, extravagant places like this sit across the sea. I can't wrap my head around it - I feel like a new person here, away from the skin I shed in Chicago.

Before long, a pair of strong arms wrap around my waist from behind and I feel Jackson's lips on my neck. I smile to myself, dipping my chin shyly, and he holds me even closer. "Can't stop staring?" he murmurs, mouth moving over my pulse point.

He seems like a new person here, too. When it was called for, he'd keep a hand on me or kiss me in front of his people. But now, there's no one around. It's only us. It reminds me of the confusing nights in our room - the two times we got sexual for no reason - but at the same time, it's nothing like that. It's not so much intimacy out of pure need, it's because he wants to. He's never been this handsy, this soft and sweet, and I like it. So much, that I might allow myself to reciprocate.

"It's just unbelievable," I say, eyes still on the horizon.

He kisses the corner of my jaw and flattens his hands over my stomach. "I love how much you love it," he says. "I worked hard with our travel advisor going over destinations that would amaze you." He pauses for a moment to kiss the top of my shoulder all the way to where it rounds into my arm. "So, are you amazed?"

"Yes," I say, fingers dancing over the backs of his sturdy hands.

"Good."

"Had you been here before?" I ask, swaying with him as he moves us from side to side.

"Never," he says. "I wanted our first time to be together."

"So, what do you think?" I say.

"It's beautiful," he says, and I feel him smile. "But right now, you're a little heavier on my mind."

"I don't know how you could be thinking about anything but this view," I say.

"I'll look at the view sooner or later," he says, swiping my hair to one side so he can press open-mouthed kisses to the slope of my neck. My core lights up, body tingling, but I don't know what to do with those feelings. In the daylight, they seem out-of-place and almost wrong. His hands slip a bit lower, fingers wide over my lower belly, but I jolt away as they run over the sensitive spot below the hem of my underwear. I untangle myself from him and make an apologetic sound, and it takes him a moment to recover. "April," he says, walking around me to lean on the half-wall. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," I say, compulsively tucking my hair behind my ears. The breeze blows against the cool spots on my neck where his saliva still dries.

His expression is gentle with no pretense. I'm not used to seeing him like this; I don't really know how to handle it. "Why do you shy away whenever I go near your stomach?" he asks. "My hands, my mouth, anything. I know there must be a reason. Will you tell me what it is?"

My mouth instantly goes dry and I resist the urge to cover my belly with my hands. I force a smile so fake it makes my cheeks hurt, and I have no doubt he can see right through me. Anyone could, at this point. "My stomach just hurts," I say, answering only a fraction of the question. "Do you think we could get something to eat?"

He eyes me warily but eventually nods. When he turns around and leads the way back into the cabana, I let out a long sigh of relief.

…

The next day, we go on a long cultural tour that spans across a few of the islands. I wear a loose, flowy dress and a beach hat and almost never let go of Jackson's hand. We're happy today, listening to the tour guide and enjoying the company of the other people in our group. I soak up the information I'm taught, enthralled by all of it. I feel Jackson's eyes on me more than once, watching me experience new things in a way I was never able to before.

For dinner, we sit on the white sand and eat sushi. I've never had sushi before, but I'm told it's the freshest in the world and after I taste it, I'll never be satisfied with anything else. My eyes nearly bug out of my head at how delicious it is, and I stuff myself to the brim with the most delicious food I've ever eaten.

"It's nice to see you eating," Jackson says, softness in his eyes. The sun warmed his skin today as I'm sure it's done for mine.

"It's so good," I say, taking a sip of the delicious wine. "Everything is… just amazing. I don't know how so many amazing things can be in one place."

His eyes shine when he says, "I know."

He's so much looser here, so much more carefree. The rigidity has left him and he's less intimidating, warmer and more approachable. He even sleeps better, wide open on the bed instead of curled into himself or rested on his stomach. I want to stay here forever with him.

As we make our way back to our cabana, a hotel clerk stops us with a basket in hand. "For the happy newlyweds," she says, and hurries away before Jackson can look to see what's inside.

Once she's gone, he takes a peek and laughs lightly in a way I've never heard him do before. "Well, they don't waste time with subtlety," he says, shoulders bouncing.

"What?" I say. "What is it?"

He turns it to show me and inside I see numerous boxes of condoms, lubrication jelly, furry handcuffs, a blindfold, and two robes. "Oh," I say, daring to look up and meet his eyes.

"When they said that they supply every amenity, I guess they weren't exaggerating," he says, holding the basket with one hand as the other arm winds around my shoulders.

We get inside our cabana and I can't stop thinking. But instead of bad, intrusive thoughts, this time they're good ones. We're on our honeymoon. We might actually have feelings for one another in the most beautiful place in the world. I'm feeling braver than I have in a long time; I don't want to act the same way I do back in Chicago. I want this to feel different, be different. I want to make something of this - make something of us.

That doesn't mean I'm not nervous, because I am. But I'm going to push past my nerves and make this night different than any preceding. He's beginning to undress for bed when I lay a hand in the middle of his shoulder blades to catch his attention, saying, "Wait here?"

"Where are you going?" he says, turning around with his hands still on the buttons of his shirt.

"The bathroom," I say, digging in my suitcase for something I know I packed. In the dim light, he doesn't see me pull it out and bunch both pieces in one hand, hiding them from view. "I'll be right out. Just… just wait right there, okay?"

"Okay…"

I shut the door to the bathroom and lock it for good measure, slowly pulling my flowy dress over my head to hang it by the window. Carefully, I step into the white, lacy long and adjust it on my hips, not knowing how to feel about the fact that there's nothing much there at all. I try not to think about it as I clasp the bra and pull it down around my ribs, running my hands over the cups that aren't cups at all, only sheaths of lace. I'm scared to do it, but I look in the mirror before heading back out. I raise my eyebrows, surprised at the sight, and fluff my hair. I don't recognize myself in a getup like this. It's sexy, and I've never been sexy a day in my life. I turn and skim my hands down my sides, staring at my nipples straining through the translucent fabric and the swell of my ass under the tiny, frilly skirt. This is a lot. This is too much. But either way, I unlock the door and step into the room where I told Jackson to wait.

I feel the breeze instantly, blowing gently from the open French doors. I keep my eyes closed at first, because I feel so exposed and I don't want to see the look on his face. What if I misread the situation and this wasn't what he was thinking? I'm going to look like a giant idiot. The biggest fool on the planet.

"April," he says, and there's something different about his voice. It's deeper, huskier, sexier. "Open your eyes." I do as he says and see him sitting on the edge of the bed, knees spread. "Come here." I take slow steps across the cool hardwood to stand between his legs, and he tips his chin up to look at me. "What does this mean?" he asks, eyes flitting between both of mine.

"I…" I say, wanting to touch him but not knowing how. "I… I… I want to have sex tonight," I say. "If that's something you want, too."

He smiles when he says, "Yes. Oh god, yes."

I grin, too, heart lightening because of the eager expression he's wearing. I must be doing something right. "Is this too much?" I ask, looking down at the lingerie I never thought I'd be brave enough to wear.

"It's perfect," he says, finally reaching out to grab me by the hips. His thumbs press against the bones on the front and the rest of his fingers spread out over my ass, and I let my hands drop to his shoulders. "You're so goddamn beautiful, April, and I swear, you don't even know it."

"You think I'm beautiful?" I ask, and it's genuine. I know that he's said it a few times when I'm dressed up in expensive clothes, but I wasn't sure if the words held weight. I've never been called beautiful before by anyone other than my little sisters. And this is much, much different.

"I think you're gorgeous," he says, leaning forward to press his lips to the apex of my ribs. "You remind me of a painting. Something by Vermeer or Degas." I don't know who those people are, but the way he says their names is so beautiful that it doesn't matter. The words melt on his tongue and transfer to my skin as he kisses me, closing his eyes as he brands me.

He pulls me onto his lap to straddle him, my breasts at face-level. With his hands wide over my back, he presses his face between them and closes his eyes, nails scratching along my spine while covering the swells with his lips. I allow my eyes to close with feeling, lifting higher onto my knees to press our torsos flush together. He licks the middle of my breastbone and I shudder because of it, then he moves to the left to cover my nipple with his mouth over the thin lace. He sucks on it, my small breast easily fitting in his mouth, and looks up at me as he does. The eye contact sends electricity between my legs - enough to shock me and make my whole body quiver. "That feels amazing," I whisper, moving to run my fingers through his hair.

He smiles against my chest, shifting his grip to my ass where he takes two firm handfuls. I gasp, chest lifting, and his fingers dig in even further. He kneads it slowly, sucking at the same rate, and I let my neck go slack as I toss my head to one side and get lost in the sensations. I've never been touched like this, worshiped like this. My blood is pumping so hard that I'm sure he can feel it through the skin, and before I have any say in the matter my hips start grinding of their own accord, searching for friction. He helps them along by pulling my ass in and scooping upwards, bringing my pelvis to his torso and keeping it there. His mouth still hasn't left my breast and now his teeth worry my nipple, soaking the material completely through. When he moves away to lay me down and the cold air hits it, I suck in air through my teeth and close my eyes.

"Just look at you," he says, stripping down to his boxer briefs. They're tight and black, made by Saint Laurent. "God, look at you."

I don't know what to say in response, so I don't say anything. He hovers over me and just looks at my face for a moment, then descends to press his lips to mine. I hold onto the kiss for a long moment, parting my lips so his tongue will slip inside, then suck on the tip. One of his hands flies to my waist when I do that, massaging the skin roughly. When he pulls away, he takes my lower lip until it pops back into place with a soft, wet sound.

He takes my bra off next, slow as ever. He undoes the clasp masterfully with one hand, then drops sweet kisses all around my breasts and nipples. The buds strain from his touch and the cool air, even more so when he rubs his palm over them both and sucks on the skin surrounding to leave hickeys. He smiles to himself as he goes, thoroughly pleased, and I close my eyes and let him do what he wants. It feels too good to think, too good to do anything but lie here and let him take me to heaven.

He pays attention to my breasts for a long time, moving south after he's finished and my nipples are wet and painfully hard. My body has gone completely slack, my panties surely soaked through, and I can barely breathe. So, I don't have the wherewithal to guide him elsewhere when his mouth finds the skin below my belly button and he kisses my scar.

I gasp at first, that's always my initial reaction whenever he goes near it. I used to react that way even when fabric touched it, but I've since gotten over that. It's not extremely sensitive anymore, but as his lips and tongue glaze over it, it sends sparks behind my eyelids and makes me see stars. No one has ever touched it, no less touched it like that. No one has ever even seen it. And here he is, treating it like it's something beautiful. I'm not sure why, but I don't stop him. I let him continue and push every bad thought out of my head and concentrate solely on how good it feels, how attentive he's being, and the new person I am here in the Maldives. I can let go a little bit. I can let him in if I want to. All that's stopping me is myself.

I run my fingers over his head and he looks up with something behind his eyes that I can't quite read. "Is this okay?" he asks, running his nose along the low waistband of my underwear.

"Yeah," I breathe, then lift my hips so he can get the underwear off. It's not lost on me that this is the first time they've come off around him - the first time he got me off was over my shorts, the second over my panties. And now, I'm completely naked and bare of anything to hide behind.

He kisses the tops of my thighs and the dip of my pelvic bone, spreading my legs so he can fit easily between them. I'm a little tense - no one's ever done this for me before - and I can't stop watching him. "Relax," he says, and when he speaks, his breath curls against my most intimate place. Spotting my reaction, he puckers his lips and blows a stream of cool air over my sex, making me jerk and twitch. "I'm gonna make you feel good," he tells me.

I hadn't known what to expect when he opened his mouth on me. But when he does, all of my muscles go slack and I allow him to widen my thighs further, putting no space at all between my core and his face. He even stimulates me with his nose and chin, and the way his facial hair feels on the sensitive skin of my inner thighs is enough to put me close to the edge. I keep one hand on his head and the other on my breast as he pushes his tongue inside me as deep as it will go.

"You're so quiet," he says, lifting up for only a minute. It's a minute too long though, and I lift my hips to tell him where I want him. He smirks and pushes them back down, kissing my thighs again as he gets resettled.

"It feels so good, I… I just don't know what I'm supposed to say," I admit.

"You don't have to say anything," he tells me. "But you can let loose. Make whatever sounds you want. I can tell by now when you're resisting."

I do as he says, cutting that final string. When he resumes what he'd been doing and sucks my clit between his lips, I open my mouth as my eyes roll back and let out the longest, filthiest sounding moan I've ever heard. I had no idea something like that could come from me. "Oh, god, baby," I moan, yanking on his curls with one hand. He doesn't stop, he doesn't slow down, he only goes harder. He makes steady eye contact while he slowly sucks on my clit, surprising me with two fingers inside me to stroke my g-spot. "Oh my god!" I whimper, knees snapping up to a bent position. He grabs onto my hips and pulls me back to his mouth, not letting me escape, and ravages me. He pushes his fingers in more roughly and sucks with all he's got, and before either of us can fully take it in, I scream because of how powerful my orgasm is. "Shit, Jackson!" I shout, and even then he doesn't stop. He does something I had no idea was possible - he gives me another orgasm right after the first, and my vision goes black at the corners while it pulses through my body in waves, rendering me speechless and virtually immobile.

"Fuck," he breathes, biting small sections of my skin. My core is so stimulated that it's nearly numb and I need time to catch my breath. "You are fucking amazing," he says, still kissing my middle.

"You're so good," I pant, both hands flat on my sweaty forehead. "Oh, my god."

He chuckles, licking a circle around my belly button and making me twitch. "I think this might be the first time you haven't had something to say," he murmurs.

"I'll think of something," I say, petting his hair. "When my brain comes back."

"Let it takes its time," he says, moving his lips to the round of my breast. When he picks his head up, he traces it with his pointer finger and locks eyes with me, and in that moment we share the heaviest eye contact we've had yet. His expression is soft and melting and it only makes me feel the same.

"Come here," I say, pulling him by the shoulders so his nearly-naked body completely overlaps my totally-naked one. He slips one leg between both of mine and I wrap the other around his waist to keep him close, lifting my hips to bump them against his. He's hard, but he doesn't rush. I'm ready, though, and I let him know by skimming one hand down his side and snapping the band of his underwear, which makes him smile against my lips.

"You want this?" he asks, pushing himself up to look at my face.

"Yeah," I say. "Yeah, I do."

"You're sure?" he says.

"Do you have those condoms?" He nods and reaches for the basket, pulling out a long string of them. "Then yes," I answer.

When his underwear come off, I try and pretend like I'm not staring at the impressive size of what's between his legs. I've only seen one penis in person, and it was absolutely nothing like this one. Without thinking or policing myself, I reach out and take it in one hand, gripping with confidence and looking up to meet his eyes. "Shit," he hisses, clenching the fist that isn't holding onto the condom.

"Let me put it on," I say. "And can I be on top?"

"Sure," he says, then maneuvers to lay on his back. His penis sticks straight up and I can't help but feel proud that I was the one to get him to this heightened state of arousal. I straddle his thighs and rest my weight down, swiping a hand between my legs to gather some of the leftover wetness - using it to lubricate his dick as I pump it, just warming him up. "Fuck," he groans, watching me with interest. Then, surprising him, I bend in half and take the tip in my mouth, swirling my tongue around the head as I taste him for the first time. "Jesus, April."

I smile when I come up, finally unrolling the condom down the length of him. He twitches as I go, moving slowly as my fingertips dance over the smooth skin. When it's wrapped, I scoot forward on my knees and brace my palms on his chest before sinking down onto him. I let my eyes flutter closed as I get used to the feeling - I haven't had sex in a long time, and the last time I did there was a significant size difference. I need a minute to get used to how this feels, how he feels. I spread my thighs wide and he solidifies his grip on my hips, pads of his fingers digging in to create little white marks in their wake. He closes his eyes and groans, saying, "You feel so fucking good."

I let my head drop, hair falling like a curtain on either side of my face. He lets go of my hips to push it behind my shoulders, curling it behind my ears before pulling me down by the base of my neck to kiss me. "Oh, god," I moan, sparked by the spot he's able to hit inside me when I bend that way. "Oh, shit."

"Move, baby," he says, skimming his hands up my stomach to hold my breasts tight. He drags his thumbs over the nipples, making me whimper and lean forward again to devour his lips. I arch my back and put my breasts near his face, and he pulls me down by the shoulder blades in order to get them in his mouth.

I rotate my hips in a figure-8 pattern, hearing the wet sounds between us as I start to move. He sits up quickly, catching my lower back so I don't fall, and rests against the headboard so I'm grinding against his lap, face-to-face. He looks deep into my eyes and kisses me hard, and I'm breathless when he pulls away. I can't handle much more of this deep and meaningful eye contact, so I tuck my face into his neck and lick the hot skin, the moisture from my saliva joining that of his light perspiration. I start to move my hips faster, slamming them against his at a rate I didn't know I was capable of, and he sinks his nails into my spine because of it. "Fuck!" I whimper, voice shaking as my core pulses. I'm not ready to come yet, I want to drag this out further, so I start to move slower and even out my breathing. I close my eyes and grit my teeth, draping my arms over his shoulders as I make sure each thrust is swift and calculated. I can feel every ridge of him even through the condom, and I don't want this to end.

He grips my shoulders after winding his arms around my back and holds on tight. We fall into a steady rhythm where even our moans match up and if we were in a normal hotel room, the neighbors would have complained by now.

When I lift up to press my forehead against his, I close my eyes and know I want it to happen soon. I jerk my hips more powerfully and slip a hand between our bodies only to have him bat it away and replace it with his own, fingers spreading my lips to rub intense circles over my clit. As he does that, I bare my teeth and open my eyes wide, tossing my head back to expose my neck and moan. He takes advantage of the skin before him and closes his lips on my throat, sucking hard as my orgasm starts and my whole body vibrates around his.

"God fuckin' damn," he growls, tossing me onto my back as it's still happening. He takes one knee and pushes it up near my face, and I don't try and hold back as he intensifies my orgasm with his own. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull his face close, sloppily dropping kisses anywhere I can reach and hoping some reach his mouth.

Both of us go slack once it's over, Jackson collapsing on top of me a sweaty mess. I wrap my limbs around him, kissing the side of his face and the tops of his shoulders, skimming my feet up and down his calves as he softens inside me.

"Fuck," he murmurs after a few moments pass. "That was so good, sweet pea."

The nickname. It almost does more to me than the sex did. Almost. "I know," I breathe, chest still heaving. I pat his back and whisper right into his ear, "You're crushing me, baby."

"Oh," he says, rolling off the bed completely. He kisses me softly on the forehead and says, "I have to go take care of the condom. Don't move."

"Okay," I say, smiling.

"No, seriously," he says. "When I come back, don't look any different than you look right now."

I laugh and cover my face bashfully, but nod anyway. He's only gone for a handful of seconds before hurrying back onto the bed, pulling me into his arms and against his chest. For a while, we just lie there and I skim my nails over his side and feel goosebumps rise in their wake. Then, I break the silence to say, "I loved that."

His chest swells with what I think is probably pride. "Yeah?" he says, and it's the first time he's ever sounded unsure in the slightest. It comes to my attention that he really wanted to please me; this wasn't only about his pleasure, mine mattered just as much if not more.

"Yes," I say, tucking my head under his chin with the intent of falling asleep.

He has other plans, though. I know it when he takes a big breath in and weaves his fingers through my hair, angling my head so he can look right into my eyes. I wonder when that will stop catching me off guard. "I have something I want to tell you," he says, blinking slowly. Right now, he's wide open. All of his walls are down. I unfold myself from his body and lie on my back, and instantly one of his hands goes to my stomach to rest flat. "I've never told anyone before, but…" He sighs. "It's different with you. I trust you deeply, April."

My heart twists as I realize how rare it is for him to say something like that. During the first part of our marriage, I would've never thought he'd say it to me. "Okay," I say, a hand overlapping his on my belly. "Tell me."

He smiles a bit. "It's not something bad," he says. "I'm making it seem like it is, but it's not. It's just… a personal secret that no one knows. Aside from my mother, that is, but she doesn't approve. She never has. And my father took it with him to the grave." I nod him along, encouraging him with my eyes. "As you know, he was a wonderful painter," Jackson says. "It was his life's work. But what you don't know is that he passed the craft down to me."

My eyes widen as what he says settles in. "You… you paint?" I ask.

He nods. "I know it seems silly to keep something like that as a secret. And it's not just painting - I also sculpt, draw, play the piano, the violin, and a number of other instruments. Art is where I was able to find myself when he was alive, but I've had a hard time going back to it since he passed away. When I played for you at the gala, that was the first time I'd touched the keys since I was 14." He tucks my hair behind my ear and touches the tip of my nose with his. "I want to use part of the other half of the inheritance to fund the arts of Chicago Public Schools," he says. "That's what my mother doesn't approve of. But… you, you're the first person I've come across in my life who would understand."

I'm not sure what I can say to fill this poignant silence, so I do what feels right. I hold one side of his face and kiss him with everything I have, hoping the emotions filter through our lips. When I pull away, my eyes burn with tears. "You're an amazing person, Jackson," I whisper, voice hoarse.

He smiles and it lights up his entire face. "You don't think it's silly?"

I shake my head vehemently. "I think it's the furthest thing from silly. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard." I run my fingers over his beard, listening to the scratchy sound that follows. "I think you should start painting again."

He kisses me slow - so full of raw feeling that it forces me to moan against his lips. "I have ideas again," he says. "Every time I see you, I get all these ideas."

"You need to paint them," I say, tickling his arm while weaving one foot between both of his ankles.

"I will," he says. "April, thank you."

"You don't need to thank me," I say. "I'm your wife."

He smiles and kisses my cheek, then continues to rub my belly. He seems lighter with the secret off of his shoulders, but I don't feel any less weighed down. It's not that I think he expects my secret told, but this feels like a situation where we should fairly trade. I don't want to make it seem like I'm holding back, but I'm also not ready to make what I have to hide common knowledge.

"I… um…" I clear my throat. "You asked about my scar the other day," I say. He doesn't respond, but I know he's listening in rapture. His silence says it all. "Um…" I blink hard. "It's from a botched surgery. Appendix surgery. I was like, 9. We didn't have the money for a legitimate procedure from a doctor in practice, so I had to have it done illegally. It's… I guess I'm ashamed about it, and I don't want people to know. Especially you. You have all these nice things and the fact that I couldn't even afford to get something done that was a bodily emergency… it's embarrassing. It's shameful."

At least some of that is true. I'm not lying when I say the last person I want to know about it is him. Only three people in the world are privy to my actual secret; one of them being myself. Another being my mom, and the third is one who may as well be dead. I don't know if I'll ever be able to unearth it to anyone else, even Jackson. Even Jackson, who holds my heart in his hands.

"Oh, god," he says, propping himself up on an elbow. He frames my face and looks at me gently with an expression I don't deserve. The lie makes me feel sick. I shouldn't have said it. I shouldn't have said anything at all. I didn't need to; I didn't need to fill that space, but I did. I chose to fill it with a lie that I can't take back. "April, that's nothing to feel ashamed over. You don't have to keep things about your life from me because you think I'd judge you. I'm not gonna do that."

"Not now," I say.

"I'm sorry," he says, immediately. "I was wrong to treat you in the way I did. I… things were different then. I was different. You've done so much for me in such a short amount of time. I'll always be indebted to you for that."

"You're not indebted to me for anything," I mutter.

He's quiet before pressing a kiss to my ear and speaking again. "There's one more thing you need to know," he says. "As long as we're putting things out in the open." He pauses for a long time before continuing. I almost don't think he's going to, but then he gathers his gumption and finishes the thought. "In order to receive the second half of my inheritance, I need to produce an heir." A thick patch of staticky, moldable silence passes. I don't even blink. "In other words, we need to have a baby, April."

I don't think before I answer. I just open my mouth without taking a breath and say, "No."