It’s not a lesson learned, though, because I can’t stop craving him. He’s my walk on the wild side, and I don’t want it to end. I tried to tell myself I did. Tried to convince myself I was done with him, but he pulls me back in each time. Having him so close to me, holding me, is pure torture.

I once thought he couldn’t be my shelter because he was the storm. Now I wonder if he’s really the jagged rocks guarding the bay. I’m in the bay, right in the eye of the storm, and it’s not me he’ll smash to bits, but anyone who gets close or dares to harm me.

I turn in the water until I’m facing him and study his face. He’s not classically handsome. His features are too hard, his body too big, his face too arrogant. He’s beautiful to me, though. Truly, breathtakingly beautiful. From the first moment I saw him, he stopped the clocks for me, and they haven’t started since.

Reaching up, I trace the outline of his jaw with one wet finger. He doesn’t move, but something subtle changes in him; he goes on alert. Like the predator he is, he watches me, eerily still, waiting, seeing if I’ll go ahead and offer myself up to him.