He narrows his eyes. “Why do you take so many pictures, Elisa?”

“End of an era,” I answer truthfully.

He takes the glasses out of the microwave, eyes on me. It’s disconcerting that he never has to look at what he is doing. He sits next to me, hands me my glass and clicks his to mine.

“To new eras,” he says.

“And to the old ones.” I smile, unable to toast to the new epoch ahead of me. I reach for the Baci tower, picking the top chocolate and resolving to save the rest for each of my remaining days.

“Share one with me?” I ask him.

“Can you spare it?”

“Barely.”

He chuckles and takes a Baci. I watch his long fingers peel the silver wrapping and find the quote.

“What does it say?”

“‘All is fair in love and war.’” He reads the wax note quietly.

“Well, that’s not so fatal.” I’m secretly glad that the bewitched Baci didn’t say something like “a woman in a painting will fall in love with you” and terrify him for life.

“Isn’t it?” He looks at the quote again and sets it on the marble bar. “What does yours say?”

I peel mine, fishing the note first. “‘A kiss is a secret told to the mouth.’” Thank you, Rostand! That same surging emptiness ghosts in my chest as I wonder whether this is the only type of secret Aiden will share with me. Maybe I should stop reading these bloody notes altogether.

I swallow and look up. “Tell me a secret, Aiden.”

He leans in slowly until our lips meet. He tastes like milk and Baci. His lips move lightly, like he is whispering. Then his kiss changes. He stands up so abruptly that his bar stool topples behind him on the floor. He fists his hand in my hair and yanks my head back, his mouth inches from mine.

“You want to know a secret, Elisa?”

I nod, breathless.

“I never kiss on the mouth,” he whispers. “Too much taste, too much essence of a woman to remember. But I like kissing you.”

I’m so stunned by this revelation that I pull back but he pinches my chin, shaking his head. He picks me up from my waist, wraps my legs around him and saunters to the long marble kitchen counter. He sets me on it, reaches for my milk glass and takes a sip.

“There are better ways to drink milk.” He winks.

He looks wicked. There is a streak of purpose in his eyes, as though he is on a quest. I fist my hands in his hair and pull him closer. I caress his cheek, stopping at his scar. The compulsion to kiss it is so strong that I lean in, asking for permission with my eyes. He smiles and nods.

I blow on it gently. It’s shaped like an L. For love, I think wildly, high on Haleum. I press my lips to it. It’s a ridge, toughened by time. Its contours imprint the letter on my lips. I kiss it again.

He moans and starts kissing the familiar paths he blazed earlier. My jaw, my throat, my collarbone. “You want to know another secret?” he whispers against my skin.

I moan a “yes”.

He brings his mouth to my ear. “I like you in this dress because you look like you belong to a happy time.”

He unties the bow at the back. I’m too lost to decipher his words so I simply absorb them. Slowly, he undoes the zipper and peels the dress from my shoulder, raining kisses there. He takes it off and sets it on the counter. Then he steps back, gazing at me. I’m fully aware that the lights are on but his words from yesterday ring in my ear. Don’t hide from me. I fight my shyness until he smiles.

“More secrets, Elisa?”

I nod without any power of speech.

“No one looks like you in my memory. Not even you.”

With one of his magical moves, my bra comes off. I wish I could say something but the only sound I’m able to form is a sigh. His lips press on my throat and trail lower, and finally his mouth is on my right nipple. His tongue draws circles, and he weaves kisses and bites in a pattern that makes me shiver. I try to wrap my legs around his waist for contact but he spreads them apart, as far as they will go, spanning the length of the counter. I feel exposed, but my blood is boiling so I don’t quite care. Slowly, two of his fingers slide inside me. The effect on me is violent. My hips lurch forward, craving depth. He growls against my breasts.

“Behave or I won’t tell you any more secrets.” He circles his fingers once, twice. The only sound I can produce is another moan. My hips writhe feverishly against his slow, sure fingers.

“Here’s another one: I like the way you taste.”

He kneels on the floor between my legs, blows a gust of air on me, and nips at my pubic bone. His fingers are still stretching and circling. Everything inside me starts to quiver. It’s almost here. Closer. Closer.

“Now about that milk,” he says, and pours the still-hot milk between my breasts.

It inflames my skin and streams in one single rivulet down my body and between my legs where his mouth waits and closes around me. The heat of the milk and the pressure of his mouth send me over the edge. The explosion begins instantly. My arms give out as he sucks the last drop of milk, and I slump on the counter. Behind my closed eyelids, darkness is tinged with a reddish haze. His name echoes in the night. I hear it as if I’m underwater.

When I emerge, I can still feel his hushing kisses between my legs and on the insides of my thighs. I peer down at him. He is blurry around the edges. He stands up, smiling, and my vision focuses.

“Don’t move an inch,” he orders and strides in the direction of his bedroom. I only blink a few times, reeling from his secrets and his touch, when he comes back with a condom and stands between my legs.

“Take off my clothes.”

Oh, finally! I start unbuttoning his shirt but it takes too long so I rip it open like he did yesterday. I ignore his chuckle as I unzip his jeans and push them roughly down his legs. He steps out of them, hardened and powerful. My eyes are fixed on the sight, but he raises my chin until I look at him.

“Eyes on me again.” He lifts me from the counter, pulling me close to him and sliding very slowly inside. My body starts building. Just as leisurely, he pulls out and back in at the same pace. His eyes close and his jaw locks in restraint.

“Another secret, Elisa?”

“Yes.” The “s” lingers in the air.

“I like that I’m the only one who’s been here. No other memories like this for you.”

He moves again, and this time a groan whirls in his chest. The sound cuts my ties to reason. I want more. More secrets, more speed, more depth, more him. As though he knows, he puts more force behind his thrusts and my moans change into loud cries. His fingers dig and bruise in my back, his breathing faster. Another thrust. Two, three. I shatter. Everything inside convulses and everything outside throbs. The violent release sucks me under. The last thing I hear is Aiden’s final cry—not a groan, a cry—and then there is silence.

I have the vague sense that I’m being moved somewhere but I have no idea how, or when, or where. When I open my eyes, we are magically on his bed. I’m on my stomach, and he is half-lying over me, his weight pinning me on the mattress. He is kissing behind my ear, nipping at the earlobe.

“Are you coherent?” he says.

“Mmm.”

“Ready for more secrets?” he whispers and before I can answer, he grips my hair and turns my head to the side until our mouths meet. This kiss is different. Savage. Gone are the gentle gusts of air, the soft strokes of tongue. His lips have a possessive edge, as if the secret they’re telling is stormy. I match him as best I can, burying my fingers in his hair. His lips move down my jaw, back to my ear.

“I like the way you smell because I’ve never smelled it before,” he whispers, kicking my legs apart with his knee, and holding my head down against the pillow. His voice is dark. His hand grips my breast roughly. It hurts but it would hurt more if his hands were not on me. My skin starts zapping with a static charge. His hand travels down my body where the charge is at its most potent. Every rough circle he draws with his fingers sends jolts of fire surging in my blood. My lungs can’t keep up.