Colin, present day

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Colin’s eyes bugged out of his head for a second, his gaze traveling every inch of CeCe’s lush body— gently swaying breasts, narrow hips, flat stomach . . . flaming red curls.

Holy fucking shit.

Then he blinked and realized that any person walking by Cecilia’s cabin would be able to see that gorgeous body.

The body that should be for his eyes only.

Yes, he was an arrogant asshole. Yes, he knew that Cecilia was a woman and it was technically her body first and foremost.

But fuck if Colin wanted another lecherous prick to lay eyes on her.

“Can I come in?” he asked, his voice sounding as though he’d swallowed a bloody flamethrower. He’d called in a favor to an acquaintance that specialized in hacking to find out CeCe’s cabin number, had been all the more thankful for that small victory when he’d driven onto the huge property belonging to the resort.

In the meantime, Cecilia was still frozen in shock, her mouth gaping in a way that made him want to kiss her senseless, so he picked up the towel, wrapped it around her and pushed her gently backward.

Her feet moved without protest, allowing him to step forward into the room. She didn’t do anything without protest, so Colin knew she was thrown completely for a loop. She didn’t speak a word when he closed the door behind him, didn’t say anything when he brushed by her to set his bag near the closet. Hell, she didn’t even comment when he set the bag of takeaway he’d grabbed from the restaurant on the counter of the little kitchenette tucked away in one corner of the cabin.

In fact, the only thing that seemed to startle her out of her stupor was him dropping his pants to the floor.

“Col—” she began but gasped when his underwear joined the pile.

His socks were next, stuffed into the boots Joanne had sent with a suitcase of warm clothes, followed by his jacket and shirt.

And then he walked toward Cecilia, wanting nothing more than to strip the towel from her hands before tossing her onto the bed and making love to her under the darkening sky.

But she’d been in the middle of something when he’d knocked.

Colin intended that she finish it and was fully committed to naked reciprocity.

He’d seen hers, it was only fair she saw his.

Okay, that wasn’t the only reason.

He worked out a lot and knew his body was in shape. If seeing him parade around naked somehow convinced CeCe to transform into one of those crazed women at a Magic Mike show, then he was all for it.

Yes, he was well aware he was an idiot, but a man had to be cognizant of his shortcomings.

A narrow hall opened into a bathroom, but the water wasn’t running and the telltale humidity of an interrupted shower was absent. He closed the door behind him and opened the next, feeling the gust of heat spread over his skin on a rush.

A sauna. Of course.

When in Finland.

“What are—?” Cecilia began from behind his left shoulder, but she didn’t get to finish the question because he merely wrapped his fingers around her wrist and tugged her toward the open door.

“Let’s finish your sauna,” he said, sitting on the bench. “It was rude of me to interrupt.”

“As if you give a damn about interrupt—”

He ladled a spoonful of water onto the heated rocks, cutting off what would no doubt have been a scathing remark about his insensitivity.

“Colin!” she exclaimed over the hissing stones and steam filling the air.

“What?” he asked innocently.

“Oh, my God,” she said, exasperated. “You’re still the same.”

“No.” He placed his hand over hers, leaning close to stare into her eyes. He needed her to see, needed her to understand that this was their chance at a fresh start, and that he wasn’t the same moronic asshole from their past. “I’m not, sweetheart. I’ve changed. For the better. My family doesn’t control me, not any longer.” Her fingers pulsed beneath his, startled. “I don’t know what happened with them, what they did to you. But I should have known better than to believe them when they said you ran off with Ewan. You’re kind, CeCe. Honest, compassionate. You wouldn’t do that to me.”

Colin’s chest was heaving and his palms were damp . . . and not from the heat of the sauna.

He had to make her understand. He—

“No,” she said. “I didn’t run off with Ewan.” She slipped her hand free of his, pressed it firmly to her chest, just above the towel she’d wrapped back around herself. “But I did leave with him. It’s only . . .” She hesitated and then sighed deeply. “Ewan gave me an escape route after you shattered my heart into a million pieces.”