Cecilia, eight years before

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There was a bit of pain as Colin pushed inside of her, but it couldn’t compare with that of tearing her hamstring or straining her rotator cuff.

And the bit just before that had been great. He’d catapulted her over the edge in an orgasm that had her seeing stars.

Colin had a very skilled set of fingers and a talented tongue.

It was just that the moment it had all started to feel really good with him inside of her, it was over.

“I’m sorry,” Colin said, sweat making his forehead shine in the moonlight. “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll make it up to you. I just—” He kissed her. “Cecilia, you’re amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” she said, tugging him close enough to feel his heart pounding against hers.

“But you didn’t . . .” he trailed off and sounded almost wistful.

She was tempted to lie, but that wasn’t how she and Colin operated. This man was the single person in her life with whom she could be completely honest. And he’d been so open back. It was refreshing and because of that trust, she was able to answer truthfully. “Not during, no. But before was amazing and after the initial pain, it was feeling great. I just didn’t quite get there.” She wrapped her arms around his back, hugging him tight. “For my first time, I think it was incredible.” She laughed, distracted from the way his body grew very stiff against hers. “I kept hearing all of these horror stories from my friends and—”

“You were a bloody virgin?” he growled.

CeCe dropped her arms when he lurched back to glare down at her. “I—uh. I figured you knew. I mean I had no idea what I was doing and you were so—”

“So what? Quick?” Colin reached for his pants and stood, yanking them up his legs. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

The vehemence of his anger took her aback, but it also broke a piece of her. Because this—disgust directed her way, harsh words, and rage-filled eyes—had been all too common in her life. “I wasn’t aware that I needed to tell you. It was my body, my choice—”

“You should have told me,” he snapped then thrust a hand through his hair and paced away. “I would have made it better. So much fucking better.”

Oh.

“Hey.” She stood, straightening her shirt and tugging on her jeans. “It was perfect.”

He made a sound that was so effortlessly Scottish, it was almost hard to describe, a grunt in the back of his throat, part disbelief, part scoff.

“Look at me,” she said and placed one hand on his waist. “Col, please look at me.”

It took a long moment but finally, those blue eyes drifted up to meet hers.

“It was perfect.” He opened his mouth, but she squeezed his hip. “No. Stop this crap right now. You don’t get to ruin my first time. I’m here in Scotland, on a fucking cliffside, overlooking the ocean and hearing the waves crash against the shore. The moon is making our skin look like porcelain statues, and I just spent the last hour with the man . . .”

Her teeth found her lip and she bit down hard, stalling the words.

“The man?” he asked.

She shook her head. “The man who gave me my first orgasm courtesy of the opposite sex.”

CeCe gave herself a mental high five. She’d almost blown it, but that had been quick thinking.

Thinking apparently that Colin saw right through.

“Except, that’s not what you were going to say.”

“It doesn’t matter what I was going to say. It is all true. I had a great time and you gave me a wonderful memory to hold on to.” She dropped her hand before turning back for the blanket. “You’ve made these weeks incredible. I mean that.”

He caught her shoulder before she could bend over to pick up the square of flannel.

“What were you going to say?” he pressed, stroking a finger down her cheek.

“Colin, just leave it, okay?” They’d had this time together. Why was he pushing this? Why couldn’t he just let her have her fantasy of the dashing Scottish hero who’d stolen her heart?

“I can’t,” he said. “I need to know.”

So he could ridicule her for having such strong feelings after so short a time?

Or so he could tell her he felt the same way?

CeCe was leaving in two days. Promises couldn’t be made. They were young, and that was beside the fact they lived an ocean apart. They both had responsibilities.

This was a fling.

Nothing more.

Except it felt like a hell of a lot more.

“Stop,” she said, slipping free and bending to snatch up the blanket. “You know you don’t want to hear the answer.”

“Dammit, you need to just tell me.” A demand and one she very much did not like the sound of.

Which was probably why she blurted out the single thing she’d been trying to keep for herself. The last remaining fantasy that she could carry on into adulthood.

First love.

“Fine,” she snapped and wrapped her arms around the blanket, clutching it like it was a stuffy and she was young and scared. And when she said her next words and witnessed Colin’s reaction, Cecilia felt very young indeed.

Young and stupid.

“I love you, Colin McGregor,” she declared. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did, and I am, and I can’t help it. You’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of and more.”

Her heart pounded in her chest and she felt more than a little sick.

She’d done it. She’d said the words, announced her feelings to the man, to the ocean, to the crashing waves.

And that sick feeling grew.

Because Colin’s face went very blank, carefully, completely, blank.

He thrust a hand through his hair, mussing the locks and sighing up at that gorgeous full moon. He could have been a pagan god, a romantic hero born to life the way that moonlight bejeweled his high cheekbones and straight jawline, the way the shadows enhanced his wide shoulders and the narrowness of his waist.

But then he spoke and it was distinctly not hero-like.

“Fuck, CeCe,” he said, staring down at her with cold blue eyes. “You need to leave.”