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wasted, stolen still in the back of her mind. Her kisses turned hard fast. They turned open mouthed, desperate, and greedy.
    He responded by climbing atop her.
    Edy wrapped arms around his neck and met conquering kisses, promising kisses, goodbye kisses without the goodbye, all as his hands reached and roamed. She swept her hands across the muscles of his body, first touching, then kneading stone to sweat. When he tossed aside his damp shirt he returned to her more determined than before, mouth working her over, stirring her up, so that she rocked beneath him. Edy whimpered; body caught in her hypnotic, ferocious sway, grinding against solidness and melting, somehow knowing what to do.
    Edy glanced at the faint and shady hole where the doorknob used to be and questioned how hard Frank and Mary Reynolds slept. A thunderous snore from down the hall was her response. Had they been so loud they’d missed it before?
    Hassan froze. “That scared the pakhana outta me. He needs to get that checked.”
    Her heart slammed like a gauntlet already. “Yeah,” she whispered. “He does.”
    Silence weighed in on them and Hassan adjusted his weight, drifting hints of citrus and leather and surging intensity just by moving, just by breathing. Edy thought of parting with him in a week, a month, a lifetime. No amount of time with him felt like enough.
    As she had the thought, her shirt fell away.
    Edy’s shirt fell away, and oh God, those lips of his, would make her embarrass herself. He was everywhere without caring, searing murmurs of appreciation, burning words of love into her skin, melting her to a broken whisper of his name, and then, not even that.
    He brushed the place where her bra clasped between the cups and Edy inhaled borrowed air.
    “We—we’re waiting, right?” Hassan said and dragged a finger along the swell of her breast. He made a point of drawing back to prop up on one elbow.
    Waiting. Yeah. About that.
    “Why not?” Edy breathed. “We’ve got forever, right?”
    Okay, that wasn’t fair. That really wasn’t fair. But their future slamming into a brick wall hurt her in ways that made her lash out, wounded and mean. So, she told him she was sorry.
    “It’s okay,” Hassan said. “Let me wait for you.” He touched her face.
     “That’s not—” Agitation choked her as she groped for the right words. Mentioning his parents in bed felt wrong. “Trust me; that’s not it,” she said lamely.
    She felt him shift to face her in the dark and knew she didn’t have to finish, knew that he got it. That the issue wasn’t him waiting on her to feel ready, but rather, them not feeling like every moment of their lives—including this one—took place with an audience that included his parents.  
     He exhaled. “We should get some sleep. Today’s been crazy. And I’d, uh, hate to find that your grandfather actually does own a rifle.”
    Right. Their day had been crazy. Because there were new grandparents and old lies and Hassan’s hands on her combined with a future they may or may not have had. She gnawed on her lip, nostrils flared, until Hassan returned to his makeshift bed.
    Edy expelled a breath. “Come back,” she said. “I miss you.”
    Hassan slipped into bed again and cinched her tight against him, so that her back pressed his chest and their bodies cupped. They laid there awhile enjoying the silence. Eventually, he tucked the stray hair on her cheek behind her ear and dotted her neck in kisses, trailing to her collarbone until she gripped the sheets and whimpered. Edy twisted to face him and their mouths crashed, desperate, bitter and greedy.
    Reality hit her like a brick. It could be their last chance, their only chance to be together. Would she take it and treasure the memory or hold out for the certainty of knowing she was ready?
    “I have protection,” Hassan said. “But it may be too old. It’s in my wallet if you want it.”
    He waited for her in stillness.
    Last chance.
    “Get it,”