Loathe to Love You by Ali Hazelwood

            “This one,” Ian pants against my mouth, no pretense of kissing now. My mouth is slack with pleasure and he’s just stealing air from me, sucking bee stings into my lips and groaning his approval into my cheekbone. “This one right here is the Solis Lacus. The Eye of Mars. Getting all worked up during dust storms.”

            He has perfect hands. Perfect touch. I will explode and scatter everywhere, a meteorite shower all over the bed.

            “And the Olympus Mons.” It’s his palm massaging my clit now. His fingers slip into me wherever they find an opening, until the tension inside me is so sweet, I’ll go insane. “I really want to come inside you. Can I?”

            I shut my eyes and moan. It’s a yes, and he must be able to tell. Because he grunts just as soon as the head of his cock begins to nudge inside me, a little too large for comfort, but very determined to make space for itself. I order myself to relax. And then, when he hits a perfect spot inside me, I order myself not to come immediately.

            “Or maybe it’s the Vastitas Borealis.” He’s barely intelligible. Doing those little thrusts that are designed more to open me up than to fuck me properly, and yet we’re both this close to orgasm. It’s a little scary. “The oceans that used to fill it, Hannah.”

            “There is no—” I try to ground myself. To find a place inside of me that is safe from the pleasure. I end up only digging my good heel into his thigh, trying to comprehend how such spectacular friction can exist. “We don’t know that there ever really was an ocean. On Mars.”

            Ian’s eyes lose focus. They widen and hold mine, unseeing. And then he smiles and begins to move for real, with a little whisper in my ear.

            “I bet there was.”

            The pleasure crashes over me like a tidal wave. I close my eyes, hold on to him as tight as I can, and let the ocean wash over me.





Epilogue


            Jet Propulsion Lab, Pasadena, California

            Nine months later

            The control room is silent. Unmoving. A sea of people in dark-blue polo shirts and red JPL lanyards who somehow manage to breathe in unison. Until about five minutes ago, the handful of journalists invited to document this historical event were clearing their throats, shuffling their equipment, asking the occasional whispered question. But that, too, has stopped.

            Now we all wait. Silent.

            “. . . expect only intermittent contact at this time. A dropout as the vehicle switches antennas . . .”

            I glance at Ian, who sits in the chair next to mine. He hasn’t bothered to turn on his monitor. Instead, he’s been watching the progress of the rover on mine, his frown deep and worried. This morning, when I straightened the collar of his shirt and told him how good he looked in blue, he didn’t reply. Honestly, I don’t think he even heard me. He’s been very, very preoccupied for the past week. Which I happen to find . . . kind of cute.

            “Heading directly for the target. The rover is about fifteen meters off the surface, and . . . we’re getting some signals from MRO. The UHF looks good.”

            I reach out to brush my fingers against his under the table. It’s meant to be just a fleeting, reassuring touch, but his hand closes around mine, and I decide to stay.

            With Ian, I always decide to stay.

            “Touchdown confirmed! Serendipity has safely landed on the surface of Mars!”

            The room erupts into cheers. Everyone explodes out of their seats, cheering, clapping, laughing, jumping, hugging. And within the delightful, triumphant, radiant chaos of mission control, I turn to Ian, and he turns to me with the widest, most brilliant of smiles.

            The following day, our kiss is on the front page of the New York Times.





Bonus


            Chapter





Sometime later





LIAM


            If Liam were asked to compile a list of the most momentous days of his life—the ones that’ll surely flash before his eyes when he’s death adjacent, even though in the meantime he’ll have to stash them in a corner of his heart, hidden and secure, because dwelling on the feelings they elicit is overwhelming, unmanageable, and just plain dangerous—today would make it to the very top.