It was too late. Mal was past being saved. He was drowning.

What had started as just a small trickle when he first kissed her was lapping around his ankles as he carefully undid the buttons on her dress.

It was up to his knees by the time he sussed out exactly where her breasts were most sensitive under his fingers and tongue.

By the time he'd figured out where else further south was particularly sensitive, he was waist-deep.

When she found out his sensitive spots, and lingered over him with mouth and tongue until he thought he'd simply explode from the heat of it, he was in up to his neck.

And when he finally slid inside her, feeling like he was coming home for the first time in a good long while, he could barely keep his chin above the waterline.

But it was the moment he finally hit his breaking point, shouting his release along with hers, that he knew for certain he was drowning.

And that he'd drop any sumbitch who came along to try and rescue him.