Project Eden
Copyright© 2026 by Uruks
Chapter 4: To Know Everything
Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 4: To Know Everything - Adam wakes up in a prehistoric jungle teaming with dinosaurs and other dangerous beasts. He doesn't know who he is or where he came from. All he knows is that he is a human man, his name is Adam, and he has to fight to survive. Utilizing superhuman strength and uncanny intelligence, Adam starts asserting his dominance to become the Ultimate Alpha Predator. However, his ambitions are complicated by the arrival of the beautiful woman known as Eve, the first human Adam has ever encountered.
Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Science Fiction Alternate History Post Apocalypse Robot Rough Big Breasts Nudism Violence
Deep in the Jungle – Mid Morning
As the morning dragged on, the sun climbing higher and bathing the jungle in a brilliant, golden light, they finally sated themselves, at least for now. The frenetic, desperate energy of the night had burned away, leaving behind a profound, peaceful exhaustion. They lay tangled together in the moss, their bodies slick with sweat and the lingering scent of their shared passion. They simply stared, their eyes tracing the lines of each other’s faces, marveling at the wonder of it all, the impossible miracle of their connection.
Eve was running a hand over Adam’s chest, her fingers gently exploring the landscape of his muscles, the light scattering of old scars, and the steady, reassuring rhythm of his heart. In turn, he caressed her hair, his fingers threading through the silken strands, his touch infinitely gentle.
She said softly, her voice a hushed murmur in the quiet of the nest, “Another word comes to mind. About what we did last night.” Eve hesitated, a thoughtful frown creasing her brow. “Well, I guess it’s more a feeling. A feeling I have for you alone now.”
He inclined his head, his crimson eyes, so often filled with challenge or calculation, now soft with curiosity. “What word? What feeling?”
Eve almost answered. The word was right there, trembling on the tip of her tongue. Love. It was a perfect, fragile, beautiful thing. But somehow, it felt too precious. Too dangerous. She felt it for him. She knew that she did, with a certainty that was as deep and real as her own bones. But she couldn’t bring herself to tell him. What if he didn’t feel the same? What if he couldn’t feel the same, with his way of thinking being so different from hers? The potential for rejection, for misunderstanding, was a physical ache in her chest. Maybe one day, she would tell him, but for now, she lacked the courage.
Eve shook her head, offering a small, sad smile. “I’m sorry. I ... I forgot. Think nothing on it.”
Adam looked at her hard, his gaze piercing. Sometimes, it seemed like he knew every thought in her head, could see straight through her flimsy defences.
He said quietly, his voice flat with the certainty of his own conclusion, “You’re lying.”
Eve flinched as if struck.
He sounded not angry, but astonished, and maybe even a little hurt by his own deduction. “You haven’t forgotten the word. You just don’t want to tell me for some reason.”
Eve couldn’t meet his eyes. So instead, she did the only thing she could think of to shut him up. She took his lips. His instinct overrode his brain as he kissed her back, his mouth opening to hers with a practiced hunger. But before their passions could reignite, he pulled back, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips.
“And now you just tried to distract me by giving me something that I want.”
Eve shrugged, a flirtatious lift of her shoulder. “Something we both want.”
They shared a laugh, a warm, intimate sound that was still new and wonderful. She kissed him again, a softer, lingering press of lips. He sat up with her, their arms intertwined, their bodies still close. He shook his head slowly, his red hair falling across his brow.
“I won’t forget this conversation. You are going to tell me the word sooner or later.”
Eve giggled, her blue eyes alight with mischief. “Perhaps ... if you can think of it.”
Adam hummed thoughtfully, intrigued by the challenge. “So if I guess the word, you’ll let me know if I’ve guessed right.”
She hummed playfully, stretching her body like a cat in the warm patch of sunlight. “Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. With me, there’s never any guarantees.”
He barked a small laugh and stood to his feet, moving to the edge of the nest and looking out over the sprawling expanse of the jungle. His domain. Eve could already tell that he was deep in thought, his brow furrowed, his jaw set in that way it did when he was analyzing a problem. It made him infinitely cuter.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked.
Adam shrugged, his gaze still fixed on the horizon. “Oh. The day’s events. There’s a lot of things we need to do, Eve.”
She loved it when he sounded intellectual, when his mind was working on something other than survival, but she kept her voice passive and curious. “Such as?”
Adam turned, looking at her, his crimson eyes showing the terrifying, brilliant depth of his intelligence. “I have so many questions, Eve. And I haven’t had the time to think about them. I’ve spent my days hunting, training, fighting. Building strength, defending my territory. Surviving.”
He knelt down in front of her, bringing them to eye level. Eve felt like he was alluding to something momentous, and it filled her with both apprehension and excitement.
“But now,” he said in that deep, sure voice of his. “I want to do more than just survive. I want to understand.”
Eve grinned, reaching out and idly playing with the strands of his long, red hair. “What does my so-called philosopher want to understand?”
He answered simply, his voice resonating with absolute conviction. “Everything.”
Her eyes widened at the certainty of his statement.
He explained, “I want to understand why we are here. I want to know why we are so different from the other animals around us. I want to know why we are alone. Are we truly the first of our kind, or simply part of a larger pack? I want to know ... everything.” Adam paused, considering. “But to do that, I must have absolute dominion over our domain. I must be assured that you are safe so that I can go about my investigation.”
Eve felt her pulse quicken, and that dangerous love she felt for him deepen, a feeling so potent it was almost terrifying. Her voice grew somber as she asked, “And how are you going to do that?”
Adam shrugged. “First, I need to make myself strong enough to subdue the T-Rex. And then, exert my will over all who might challenge me. Like those apes, for instance. There are many more of them. They move in an organized pack. They could be even more dangerous than the T-Rex under certain circumstances. I must neutralize the threat they pose to us.” He looked at her, his gaze intense, and it slid down to her stomach. “Especially now.”
Almost subconsciously, Eve’s hand slid down to her own stomach, where his eyes lingered, a flutter of premonition stirring within her.
“Why ‘especially now’?” Eve asked hesitantly.
Adam said, “I think you know why, Eve. What we shared together ... other words come to mind in association to it.”
Eve felt her heart sink, a cold dread seeping into her warm contentment. “A baby.”
Adam nodded slowly, his gaze unwavering, a single, terrifyingly simple word that held the weight of worlds. “That’s right, Eve. I think we’re going to have a baby.”
The air in the nest, warm and thick with the scent of their spent passion, suddenly felt thin and cold. Eve stared at him, her mind refusing to assemble the sounds into a coherent thought. Baby. The word echoed in the sudden, cavernous silence inside her skull. It was a concept so alien, so far removed from the daily, brutal calculus of survival, that it felt like a word from another language. She knew of it, of course. She had seen the furry, stumbling young of the sloths, the blind, mewling kits of the saber-toothed tigers, the clumsy chicks in the high, precarious nests. But that was them. That was the brutal, mindless cycle of the jungle. Not her and Adam.
Adam looked past her, his crimson eyes scanning the vibrant, dangerous world outside their sanctuary as if seeing it for the first time through a new lens. “I have observed other animals doing something similar to what we did,” he continued, his voice the same calm, analytical tone he used when describing the hunting patterns of a Deinonychus. “I have also seen animals give birth to young whom they care for until they are grown. I think the process is first started by the union of a male and a female. If I’m correct, it’s only a matter of time before you bear our children.”
His words were a series of logical, detached steps, but each one landed like a physical blow. Bear our children. Eve felt a dizzying wave of shock and wonder, a cold knot of dread tightening in her stomach even as a strange, terrifying warmth bloomed in her chest.
“But ... but when I woke up, I was already fully grown,” she stammered, her mind scrambling for a loophole, a reason this couldn’t be true. “Or at least, I think I’m fully grown. It’s been many moons since I woke up in the jungle, and I haven’t changed.”
Adam nodded. “It was the same for me. I was already a mature man when I woke up.” He turned back to her, and the sudden intensity in his gaze was almost frightening, a burning fire of purpose that made her flinch. “However, there’s no reason to believe that we cannot conceive offspring. In fact,” he said, his voice dropping with the weight of revelation. “It might be the reason we were put here in the first place.”
Eve cocked her head to the side, her mind latching onto the one piece of his logic she could challenge. “But put here by whom?”
Adam sighed, rubbing his head in a gesture of rare, human frustration. “I don’t know, Eve. That’s why I need to investigate. But before I can do that, I have to make sure that nothing can threaten you and the baby ... if one comes.” He concluded, his voice shifting into the authoritative tone of a strategist planning a campaign. “Females become vulnerable during pregnancy. I’ve seen it before. You have survived this long by being quick and running away when threatened, but you may not have that luxury when you are pregnant. Which means I need to make this place safe for you. Or at least, as safe as I can make it.”
Eve considered this, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The dread was still there, a cold, oily slick in her veins. Did she have any right to bring a child into this world? A world of fangs and claws, of constant, gnawing hunger and brutal, sudden death? The memory of the pterodactyl’s claws tearing into her back was still fresh, the screams of the butchered sloth still echoed in her dreams. To bring an innocent, helpless thing into that ... it seemed like the cruelest fate imaginable.
As if prying into her deepest, most conflicted thoughts, her pets suddenly began chirping, buzzing around her, climbing onto her lap and nuzzling her hands with their soft, warm bodies. She looked down at them—Nutty, Squeaky, and Tiny—so small and helpless compared to her. She protected them. She cared for them. They were her world. She realized then that a baby would be much the same, but unlike them, a baby would grow strong and intelligent, perhaps as strong and intelligent as Adam. The thought of motherhood, so foreign and abstract in her daily life of survival, suddenly seemed like the most important thing in the world to her. A fierce, protective love she didn’t know she possessed roared to life inside her, a roaring fire that burned away the fear and the doubt. She found that she did want it. With every fiber of her being. To create life with this man, this infuriating, beautiful, brilliant man ... it felt right. It felt like the answer to a question she hadn’t even known she was asking.
Eve found herself reaching out and stroking Adam’s hand. “Alright,” she said, her voice firm with newfound resolve, her decision made. “Then that’s what we’ll do. If a baby is born, I’ll fight with every last ounce of my strength to protect it. Or die trying.”
Adam stroked her hand in return, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her skin. He was so much more tender now than when she first met him, and it made her heart soar. “There won’t be any dying,” he said, his voice a low, solemn promise. “Not if I can help it.”
Their hands intertwined, each one enjoying the soft, warm reassurance of the other. The moment was shattered by Adam’s sudden shift back into pragmatism.
“For now, we start out with the basics. You said that you’ve never eaten meat before. I think this has led to a deficiency in your nutrition.”
Eve, momentarily lost in the profound intimacy of their shared purpose, almost didn’t hear him. “Huh?”
Adam went on, ignoring her confusion. “I’m saying that I want you to come out on hunts with me. Eat meat when you can.”
Eve’s nose scrunched up in disgust. “But ... that sounds so messy. I don’t want to.”
Adam gave her a chiding look. “If I can eat meat, you can too. It will make you stronger and fill you with more energy than just eating plants.”
Eve frowned. “How do you know?”
Adam shrugged. “Simple observation. Carnivores are usually quicker and more active than herbivores. That can only come because of their diet.”
Eve sighed in frustration, releasing his hands as she turned away.
“I’m not telling you to stop eating fruit,” Adam explained, his tone softening slightly as he tried to appeal to her reason. “Only to expand your palette a bit. Your strength becomes the baby’s strength. I want our offspring as strong and vital as possible.”
The word ‘baby’ was his trump card, a logical sledgehammer that shattered her resistance. She took in a deep breath, feeling helpless against his unassailable logic. However, a thought came to mind that made her smile.
“Alright,” she conceded, turning back to face him, a glint in her eye. “But if I eat meat, then you have to eat my food as well.”
Adam’s lips curled in disgust. “You mean ... fruits and berries?”
Eve nodded. “And certain leaves. And mushrooms, too. I’ve got all the plants in the jungle catalogued. I know which ones will kill you and which ones are safe.”
Adam muttered something grumpily under his breath before saying, “I think that’s going too far.”
Eve giggled, shoving him playfully. “No. It’s called a compromise. It means that both sides get a little of what they want, and a little of what they don’t want.”
Adam shook his head helplessly, a slow, reluctant smile finally gracing his lips. “Life was so much simpler before you came along.”
Deep In The Jungle – Afternoon
Later that day, the jungle was a cathedral of light and life, its towering canopy a stained-glass ceiling that fractured the sun into a million shifting, dappled spotlights on the forest floor. The air was thick, humid, and alive with the thrum of a million tiny wings, the drone of insects, and the distant, melodic calls of unseen birds. Eve moved through this vibrant chaos not as a part of it, but as its conductor. She was utterly in her element, a glowing specter of golden hair and sun-kissed skin, her every step a silent, practiced dance.
Adam followed, a looming shadow of pale muscle and stark red hair, his presence a jarring note of brutalist reality in her lush world. He watched her, his crimson eyes a vortex of conflicted emotions. He was here to learn, to fulfill his end of the bargain, but his every instinct screamed that this was a fool’s errand. His world was one of impact, of the snap of bone and the spray of blood. Hers was a world of whispers and textures, of subtle colors and delicate fragrances.
“Alright, my big, grumpy philosopher,” she began, her voice a light, melodic trill that contrasted sharply with the jungle’s guttural chorus.
She stopped before a large, fan-leafed plant and pointed to a cluster of small, purple berries that clung to its stem like drops of ink. “Lesson one. This is the dusk-fruit. See how the berries grow in a tight bunch, all clustered together like a little family?”
She plucked one and held it up to him. It was perfectly round, its skin glossy and taut. “And feel the skin. It’s firm, but it gives a little under the thumb. If it’s mushy or has any spots that are darker than this deep purple, it’s starting to rot. Leave it for the scavengers.”
He took the berry from her, his massive fingers looking clumsy against the tiny fruit. He rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, his brow furrowed in intense concentration. He committed its weight, its texture, its color to his formidable memory. He knew, with a certainty that chilled him, that he would remember this single berry for the rest of his life.
Eve led him on. “Now, this,” she said, gesturing to a vine snaking up the trunk of a great ironwood tree. It was covered in broad, waxy leaves, and from its nodes hung larger, heart-shaped fruits of a brilliant, almost violent red.
“This is a sun-burst. You can tell it’s ready because the color is so bright it almost hurts to look at. The brighter, the better. And see these leaves? They’re waxy. It helps the plant hold onto water. A good sign.” She deftly climbed a few feet up the trunk, her body moving with an easy grace, and twisted a fruit free. She tossed it down to him.
“But be warned,” she called from her perch. “Its cousin grows right over there.” She pointed to a nearly identical vine, save for its leaves, which were duller, more matte in sheen. “That one bears the false-heart. Its fruit is just as red, just as beautiful, but it will burn you from the inside out. The only way to tell them apart is the leaf. Waxy is good, dull is death.”
Adam’s gaze flickered between the two vines. His mind wasn’t just memorizing; it was categorizing, forming algorithms of survival. Rule one: bright cluster, firm skin, no dark spots. Rule two: heart-shaped fruit, waxy leaf equals life; dull leaf equals death.
They continued for what felt like hours. She showed him the spear-nut, a tough-shelled pod that had to be smashed open to reveal the rich, oily meat inside, but whose husks secreted a sticky sap that could cause a painful, blistering rash.
She pointed out the ghost-gill mushroom, a spectral white fungus that was safe to eat, growing in a tight, circular pattern, while its twin, the death-cap, grew alone in scattered, erratic locations and carried a faint, sweet scent of almonds—a scent he now knew to associate with poison.
Through it all, Adam listened, his face a mask of stoic indifference. Inside, however, he was warring with himself. The sheer, suffocating inefficiency of it all—tasting, smelling, touching—was anathema to him. Why not just hunt? One kill, one meal. This was a thousand tiny, tedious calculations, a thousand chances for a fatal mistake. Yet, every time he looked at her, at the radiant joy on her face as she explained the secrets of her world, he would swallow his contempt. He was learning her language, and it was more complex than any he had ever encountered.
Eve was absolutely bubbling, a shimmering effervescence of pure delight. She had never had a student before, and certainly not one so imposing and serious. “Are you paying attention back there?” she teased, turning to see him scrutinizing a furry-looking fungus with a deep suspicion. “Or are you just admiring the view?” She gave a little shimmy of her hips, knowing full well his eyes would be drawn to the movement.
A low grunt was his only reply, but she saw the flicker of a smile he tried to hide. “Your methods are ... imprecise,” he stated, his voice a low rumble.
“Maybe,” she retorted with a saucy grin. “But my methods have kept me from dying of poison up until this point. Now, you go. I’ll stay here. See what you can remember. Don’t come back until your hands are full.”
He nodded once, a curt, businesslike gesture, and then melted into the foliage, his silent departure a stark contrast to her own vibrant presence. Eve waited, her heart thrumming with a strange, fluttering anticipation. She expected him to return quickly with his hands empty, admitting the foolishness of the task.
But nearly an hour later, he returned. He emerged from the shadows not looking frustrated, but focused. And his hands were indeed full. He held a collection of dusk-fruit, several sun-bursts, and even a handful of spear-nuts. But he also carried a few things she hadn’t shown him. A spray of small, yellow berries she knew to be tart and edible, and a cluster of dark, fibrous roots that were bland but filling.
Eve’s jaw fell slack. “How ... how did you know those were safe?” she stammered. “I never showed you the yellow berries or the roots.”
Adam dumped his findings onto a large, broad leaf she had laid out as a makeshift blanket. He knelt, arranging them with methodical precision. “Your criteria was logical,” he explained, his voice devoid of pride, stating a simple fact. “The dusk-fruit follows your pattern of clustered growth and firm skin. The yellow berry grows on the same type of plant, just higher up where it gets more sun. The brightness rule applied. The roots were a gamble,” he conceded, tapping one. “I observed a pack of wild boars digging for them. They ate them and showed no signs of distress. I deduced they were safe for our consumption as well.”
Eve stared at him, her heart swelling with a warmth that had nothing to do with the afternoon sun. It wasn’t just that he had listened. It was that he had understood. He had taken her world of feelings and intuition and translated it into his own language of cold, hard data. The thoughtfulness of it, the sheer, unexpected intellectual power it demonstrated, touched her more deeply than any kiss.
“Go ahead and set those down,” she said, her voice soft and full of an emotion she couldn’t yet name. “We’ll gather a few more and have ourselves a proper picnic.”
Adam frowned, his analytical mind immediately snagging on the new word. “What’s a picnic?”
Eve frowned too, a line appearing between her brows as she searched her own internal lexicon. It was there, a phantom concept with no substance. “I’m not sure,” she admitted. “You know how we know all these words, but we sometimes don’t know the context for them? It’s kind of like that.”
Adam’s gaze grew distant, his crimson eyes staring through the vibrant foliage of the jungle toward a horizon only he could see. “Another mystery of our existence to unravel.”
Eve shrugged, a graceful lift of her bare shoulders. “I guess so.”
She turned back to her task, a new tune beginning to hum in her throat. It was kind of like a song, but one with no words, a melody woven from the memory of birdcalls and the rhythm of her own heart. It was a pure, unthinking expression of the contentment that suffused her. Her voice was angelic, a clear, sweet bell-like sound that cut through the dense air, and Adam found himself utterly enraptured by it. He had stopped gathering, his hands frozen mid-motion, as the sound wrapped around him.
“What’s that sound you’re making?” he asked, his voice quieter than she had ever heard it.
Eve looked up, pulled from her reverie. “Huh? Oh, I was singing.”
Adam repeated the word, testing it on his tongue. “Singing?”
Eve nodded. “Yeah. You know, kind of like the sounds that the birds make. I learned to do it by listening to them.”
Adam shook his head, his expression one of profound sincerity. “I have listened to the sounds of birds all my life. None sound that beautiful.”
A wave of heat washed over Eve, so intense it was almost dizzying. She felt her cheeks go stark red as a grin so wide it almost hurt split her face.
She turned away quickly, unable to meet the intensity of his gaze, and mumbled, “Flirt.”
She started humming her song again, a little louder this time, her movements suddenly self-conscious.
Adam watched her. He watched the graceful, rhythmic sway of her naked hips as she moved from bush to vine. He found himself intoxicated, not just by the sound of her voice, but by the perfect, sexy reality of her body. The globes of her ass were high and round, flexing with each step, and the taper of her waist was a marvel of geometric perfection.
As she reached up to pluck a sun-burst, her massive breasts bounced slightly, their soft weight shifting in a hypnotic rhythm. Before he knew it, his cock stood straight up, a rigid, aching column of flesh that demanded attention. He needed relief, and he needed it quickly. He moved up behind her, his shadow falling over her as his hand encircled her waist, pulling her back against the hard, undeniable proof of his desire.
Eve gasped slightly as she felt Adam’s arms go around her, the heat of his skin a stark, welcome contrast to the humid air. She felt the solid, insistent length of his cock press against the soft curve of her ass, a promise of raw intent that made her breath catch in her throat.
“Adam,” she breathed, his name a soft puff of air. “What are you doing?”
He growled huskily into her ear, a low, primal vibration that sent a shiver of liquid fire racing down her spine, making her blood boil in her veins. His palm slid from the plump swell of her ass, his fingers tracing the cleft between her cheeks before delving lower, seeking the heated, slick core of her. His thumb found the sensitive nub of her clit, already swollen and aching for his touch, and he began to rub it in slow, deliberate circles that were pure, exquisite torture, each pass sending jolts of sharp, electric pleasure shooting up her spine.
“I need you, Eve,” he groaned, his voice thick with a hunger that was more potent than any appetite for food. “I need you now.”
She protested weakly, her body already betraying her. “Adam. We still have work to do. We need to stay focused. We need to...”
But her protests died in her throat, strangled by a wave of pleasure so intense it stole the strength from her limbs, melting her resolve like wax in a flame. Her heart wasn’t in the resistance; it was hammering against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat calling for him. Instead of pushing him away, one of her hands snaked up into his thick, red hair, her fingers tangling in the silken strands and taking a firm, possessive fistful.
He growled again, a sound of triumph, and he plunged his bulging cock into her sex from behind. Eve moaned loudly, a guttural cry of pure bliss, as she took his full length in a single, piercing thrust. He filled her completely, stretching her, a perfect, aching fullness that was both a violation and a homecoming, a searing pleasure that bordered on pain. She leaned forward instantly, her hands finding purchase on the rough, mossy bark of a nearby ironwood tree, her body arching to meet his, a silent offering.
He began to plunder her, his movements a wild frenzy. He pulled out almost to his tip, the broad head of his cock catching on her slick entrance, before slamming back into her, his hips a piston of brutal, driving force that buried him to the hilt.
The sounds that filled the glade were the wet, percussive slap of his skin against hers, a lewd, rhythmic beat that was the only music she cared to hear; his guttural grunts of exertion, hot and animalistic against her ear; and Eve’s voice, which rang out throughout the jungle again and again as he subjected her to multiple orgasms.
“AH! AH! AH!”
Each cry was sharper, higher than the last, a primal song of surrender. Her legs trembled, the muscles screaming as another, more powerful climax ripped through her, a blinding white light behind her eyes, and then a third, a tidal wave of pleasure that left her seeing stars and feeling as though her very soul was being unstitched from her body.
Their lovemaking became so intense that Eve’s feet left the floor. He hooked his powerful arms under her knees, lifting her completely, his body a solid, unyielding wall of muscle at her back. Her legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, her ankles locking behind him as he held her aloft, impaled on his cock, her full weight trusting him completely. Her only grip on reality was her desperate hold on the tree, its rough bark scraping against her palms, the sting a grounding anchor in the maelstrom of sensation, the only thing keeping her from falling into the abyss of pure feeling.
He continued to plunder her, his movements a wild frenzy, his strength seemingly endless as he drove into her, using his body to claim hers in the most fundamental way possible. She was a vessel for his pleasure, and he was a storm for hers. She didn’t want him to stop. She wanted to get lost in him, to be consumed by the storm, to dissolve into nothing but feeling and him, to be shattered and remade by his sheer, overwhelming force. She cried his name, her voice a ragged, desperate prayer that echoed through the trees.
“ADAM! ADAM!”
They finally shared one last climax, a shattering explosion that ripped through them both with the force of a lightning strike. Adam roared, a sound of utter victory that shook the very leaves around them, as he emptied himself into her, his body convulsing with the force of his release, a hot, powerful flood that filled her completely. Their love juices spilled down their legs, a hot, slick testament to their frenzy, mingling with the sweat on their skin and tracing cooling paths down their thighs.
They collapsed together, a boneless, sweaty heap of tangled limbs on the soft, mossy ground. The only sounds were their ragged, gasping breaths and the distant, uninterested hum of the jungle.
As Adam held her to him, his chest heaving, he asked, his voice a low, rumbling whisper against her hair, “Is that what you call a picnic?”