GO STRAIGHT HOME. Straight home. Call Pete, take a cab.

Do it now.

You are not going to follow Zach to his cabin. That would be stupid.

There was going to be a storm. The sensible thing would be to get home before it hit.

Brittany stood with her phone in her hand and her finger hovering over the call button.

Then she frowned.

They were both adults and both unattached. And they both wanted the same thing.

She’d seen the look in his eyes. If Philip hadn’t been in the room, that would have been it. It was a wonder they hadn’t set fire to all the stacks of paper on Philip’s desk.

Heart pounding, she dropped her phone into her bag.

Dusk was falling over the forest. Already it was cooler in the evenings, as if fall was trying to nudge summer to one side and take center stage.

She walked across the clearing, exchanged a few words with a couple of the camp staff who were restocking the cabins to be ready for the training week, and took the path that led past the beach and along the bay towards Zach’s cabin.

The sky was stormy, with black clouds threatening rain.

Nerves fluttered like butterflies in the pit of her stomach and she snatched in a breath.

She was an adult and she was making an adult decision. There was no reason to be nervous.

All the same, she hesitated before walking up to his door.

She knocked and waited, her heart in her mouth.

He’d tell her to go away.

He’d tell her it wasn’t wise, or sensible, to get involved a second time.

And she’d tell him—

She frowned and knocked again, but it seemed she wasn’t going to be able to tell him anything because there was no answer.

As she turned away she heard a soft splash and walked to the end of the deck.

He was the only person in the sea, cutting through the water with smooth, powerful strokes as he swam from one side of the bay to the other.

She watched him without noticing the passage of time, absorbed by masculine power and sheer athletic ability.

The sea had to be cold, but he kept up the relentless rhythm and she kept watching until finally he swam back towards the cabin and hauled himself onto the deck.

Water streamed off his broad shoulders and turned his hair sleek and inky dark. He cleared his face with his hand, reached for a towel and noticed her.

The way he stilled made her think of a sleek, dangerous jungle cat.

His gaze met hers. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes.” She pushed her hands into the pockets of her cargoes, nerves dancing in her belly and mingling with sexual awareness. When he reached for his sweats she shook her head. “Don’t bother getting dressed. I’m just going to undress you again so you might as well save me time.”

His hand froze in midair. “Brittany—”

“I’m tired of pretending, Zach. I’m tired of feeling this way and not doing anything about it. And don’t tell me you don’t feel it, too, because I know you’d be lying. We almost had sex in front of Philip back there, and that’s not good. There’s a reason you’re taking a long dip in the cold sea, and I doubt it’s all down to an interest in physical fitness.”

His movements slow and steady, he looped the towel around his neck. “As I said the other night, you’re a smart girl. And you’re thinking of making the same mistake twice?”

“Being with you wasn’t a mistake.” She spoke softly, her voice just audible over the soft rush of the sea as it hit the sand. “Marrying you might have been, but not the rest of it. And the marriage part was my fault. I pushed you.”

“I could have said no.”

“It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. It’s history. If we’d met for the first time a few weeks ago, we’d both have baggage, but it wouldn’t be with each other. The past isn’t relevant. That was then and this is now. I’m not eighteen anymore, Zach. I know what I want.”

Somehow they’d moved towards each other, and now he was standing right in front of her. His height and the width of his shoulders almost blocked the glowing circle of the moon but there was still enough light for her to see the rigid tension in his jaw.

“I’ll hurt you. I’ll screw up and break your heart. It’s what I do.”

“That isn’t going to happen. And I don’t think it’s my heart you’re worried about. I think it’s your own.” She put her hand on his chest and felt the steady beat of his heart under her palm. A quick glance might have suggested his body was perfect, all smooth, taut lines and curving muscle. A closer look revealed imperfections, scars she knew were there, but that he’d always refused to talk about.

She’d told herself that his past was his business. That if he didn’t want to talk, that was his decision. She’d told herself that everyone had a right to their secrets.

But what if he simply hadn’t trusted her enough to talk?

Guilt settled over her and she had a flash of self-insight almost too uncomfortable to examine.

She should have kept asking.

She should have—

“What’s wrong?” His voice was rough and he lifted his hand and cupped her cheek. “Changing your mind? Are you afraid? Because you should be.”

Ten years ago she would have assumed that comment was about her, but now she knew better. Now she knew it was about him.

“I’m not afraid, but I think you are. I think you’re afraid to let anyone close because that gives them the power to hurt you. But I’m not going to hurt you. I’d never hurt you.”

Sounds of laughter floated towards them on the breeze and she realized there were people on the far side of the beach.

Zach closed his hand around her wrist and for a moment she thought he was going to push her away.

For a breath-stealing moment they stood there, locked together.

Then he led her into the cabin and kicked the door shut behind them.

ZACH HAD SPENT every moment of the past few days trying not to think about her. When he did, he spent the time listing a hundred reasons why this was a bad idea.

In the end he’d resorted to hard physical exercise in an attempt to relieve the simmering sexual tension that blocked any hope of rest or peace.

And now here she was, in his cabin, with a smile on her lips and promise in her eyes.

All he had to do was take what she was offering.

The selfish side of him, the side that allowed him to focus on his own needs to the exclusion of others, the side that had developed from a need to survive, just wanted to ease the ache in the most basic way known to man and to hell with the consequences. Any consequences would be hers, not his. If she wanted to play with fire, why not hand her the match?

But he couldn’t.

And deep down he knew she was right. It wasn’t about her, it was about him.

He was afraid. Not of being hurt, but of discovering that even with Brittany, he still couldn’t feel.

That one brief occasion in her cottage had been easy enough to discount. It had been all about hot sex and nothing else. But this—this was different.

“Why are you here?” Forming the words felt difficult because life had taught him to greedily snatch the good moments wherever you could find them. And one of them was standing right in front of him. “You need to leave right now.” Before the bad side of him overwhelmed the small part of him that was decent.

“I’m not leaving, Zach.” Her voice was a smoky, soft invitation and he clenched his jaw and kept his hands by his sides.

“You don’t want to do this.”

Her eyes were clear and honest. “Why don’t you let me worry about my feelings and you worry about yours?”

“I don’t have feelings.” His voice sounded strange. Thickened. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I don’t feel anything. I never do.” He didn’t understand why she didn’t see the danger, the futility, of getting involved with him again.

“I know.” Her hand came up to his face and she touched him gently, soothingly, which didn’t make sense to him because he knew that if she had any sense she would be backing away.

The window was open and he could smell the scents of late summer and the salty air. He could hear the rhythmic rush of the sea and the call of the gulls.

He could hear the beating of his heart and feel the throb of blood in his veins.

“And knowing that, you still want this?”

She nodded. “I think you should stop worrying about not feeling and just be with me. It’s just us, Zach. We’ve done this before.”

But before he’d only ever cared about pleasing himself and his partner.

He’d never wanted anything more.

Now, for the first time in his life, he resented the hollow emptiness inside him that had kept him safe for so long.

He wanted to fill it with her, he wanted to warm himself on her and thaw out the ice-cold center that had somehow become part of who he was.

He wanted to feel.

But because he knew he couldn’t, the pressure grew. “You should take better care of yourself. You need to leave.”

“If you want me to leave, I’ll leave, but first I’m going to ask you the same question I asked you the other night in the forest. The one you didn’t answer. If we’d met for the first time a few weeks ago, what would we be doing now?”

That was easy. “We’d be having sex without coming up for air and—” He sucked in a breath as she pulled her top over her head and slid her cargoes over her hips. All woman, she stepped out of them and stood in front of him in nothing more than silk and lace.

He couldn’t see or hear past the roaring of lust in his head. “What the hell are you doing? You said you were going to leave.”

“I said I’d leave if that was what you wanted. It isn’t.” She pushed her clothes away with the toe of her bare foot and his mouth dried.

“I told you—”

“You told me that sex is nothing more than a physical workout for you. You can’t feel. I know. I heard you. So let’s share a physical workout. Exercise is good for you, it’s a medically proven fact and I’d rather have a naked marathon with you than pump iron in the gym. And, Zach, you’re going to feel something—” She gave him a smile that made it impossible for him to think.

Up until the point where he’d met Brittany, his life had been about taking care of himself when no one else would, keeping himself safe and alive. Other people’s feelings had come low on his agenda, mostly because he’d grown up knowing that he was the only person looking out for himself. His connection with women had been on one level only, a physical one. The only time he’d broken that rule had been Brittany and even though he knew she hadn’t really loved him, he knew he’d hurt her and he’d regretted it.

But she gave him no opportunity for more argument because she stepped forward and he felt the silken brush of her skin against his and breathed in the scent of her hair.

He was still fighting the crashing waves of lust when he felt her fingers on the waistband of his damp board shorts.

“You can’t—”

“I can, and you should stop talking now.” Her voice husky, she dragged the shorts down and slid to her knees.

“Brittany—” Her name jammed in his throat and his vision blurred as she took him in her mouth.

When they’d been together the first time, he’d been the one to lead the way on everything. He’d nudged her out of her comfort zone, although nudge was perhaps too gentle a word for what he’d done. The moment she’d turned eighteen, he’d considered it his duty to teach her everything she didn’t already know, which had turned out to be a lot. She’d been gutsy and independent, but sexually inexperienced. He’d given her an intensive course and plenty of practice, making no concessions to shyness and embarrassment.

Apparently she’d left shyness behind.

He felt the warm heat of her soft mouth slide over him and his mind shut down. He knew that if she carried on it would be over in five minutes and nothing that felt this good should be over that fast.

Finding willpower he didn’t know he had, he eased away from her, hauled her to her feet and powered her back to the bed, catching her as she lost her balance.

Careful to protect her wrist, he lowered her to the bed.

“I want to feel something.” His tone was raw. “I want to—”

“I know—” she drew his head down to hers “—I know you do. And it will happen. We just have to be patient. And in the meantime if you could do that thing you do, that would be great because you’re killing me here.”

He breathed her name against her mouth, feeling her soft lips part under the pressure of his. He kissed her slowly, skillfully, taking his time. Then he eased away, stripped off the last of her clothes and slid his hands over warm skin and secret places until she was moaning under him.

“You don’t have to take it slowly.” Her voice was desperate and she slid her leg over his hips and arched against him. “I need you—I need you to—”

“Not yet.” He wanted to take it slowly. Maybe if he took his time, if he savored every moment—and he did that, exploring every part of her, starting with the curve of her neck, then her shoulder and lower to the peak of her breasts. When she writhed and shifted, he flattened her to the bed, trapping her with his weight.

He felt her push against his shoulder with her good hand but he kept her pinned beneath him as he explored her with his mouth. He felt her nipple harden under the slow stroke of his tongue and heard her breathing grow shallow. The taste of her skin was like a drug, and he tasted and licked, his hunger for her building. It burned through him, ravenous, insatiable, and he knew she felt the same way because she squirmed under him, the supple lift of her body an explicit invitation.

Through the clouds of dizzying pleasure he could hear her saying his name, over and over again, until the soft pleas became sobs and the movement of her hips against him became almost frantic.

Still he held her down, ignoring his almost all-consuming need for her, willing himself to feel something other than blazing sexual heat.

Her body had changed, her breasts deliciously rounded and her thighs lean and strong from long hours spent outdoors. He explored those changes with his mouth and the tips of his fingers, touching her skin, breathing in the scent of her, tracing every soft feminine inch with his tongue.

When he finally stroked his hand between her legs, she moaned, and when his fingers slid skillfully into that vulnerable part of her, she parted her legs.

He slid his mouth over her hip and lower to the inside of her thigh, then traced her with his tongue. This, he knew how to do. He knew exactly how to touch her and with each gentle glide and flick he drove her closer and closer to the edge. He could feel every ripple and tremor of her flesh and he responded until she was writhing under him. He felt her hand on his shoulder and knew what she wanted but he wasn’t ready to give it to her. Wasn’t ready to give up hope that being with her could break that lock inside him.

Through the heat of his own desire he heard her saying his name over and over again, telling him how much she wanted him, how she couldn’t wait any longer, how he was killing her, but still he drew out the torture.

Finally, when he decided it wasn’t fair on her, he eased himself up from her body and reached for the condom he was never without.

She shifted under him, her fingers biting into the muscle of his back and he slid his hand under her, reining in the urge to thrust deep. Instead he lowered his forehead to hers, held her gaze and entered her slowly. He felt her nails dig hard into him and saw her lips part in a soft gasp as he joined them intimately. It cost him, but he kept his movements slow and gentle, easing into her by degrees as he felt the warm, feminine yielding of her body.

When he was buried deep he lowered his mouth to hers and spread slow, lingering kisses across her mouth and then her jaw as he gave her time to grow accustomed to him.

Her hand slid into his hair, and she brushed her mouth against his. “You’re safe,” she whispered, “you’re safe. You can let go, Zach. You can trust me.”

He moved with long, slow, breath-stealing strokes, building the rhythm and shifting position so that every controlled surge created a perfect, delicious friction, watching as a soft flush highlighted her cheeks and her eyes glowed with heat.

“Zach, Zach—” She whispered his name, slid her arm around his neck and dragged his head down to hers, licking into his mouth as he drove into her with erotic precision. Her gaze stayed locked on his, open, trusting, sharing everything.

The pleasure built and multiplied until it was no longer in his power to hold back physically. Zach took her mouth and sent them both flying into a perfect storm of sexual excitement. He felt her come, felt her body rippling around his and dragging him to the same place.

Physically, it was about the most perfect sexual experience of his life.

He curled her into his arms, holding her against him, listening to the sound of the ocean mingling with the pounding of rain through the open window and thinking that if this was all it could ever be, then maybe it would be enough.

She snuggled closer. “I love this cabin. It’s so cozy. You don’t get lonely, out here away from everything?”

“I love it.”

She slid her arm around him so that each part of her was touching a part of him. “The other night when we were in the woods, talking about Travis, you said that it might be possible for some people to change. To learn to trust. You’re not one of those people, are you?” When her question was met with silence, she took a deep breath. “You never trusted me, did you? And because my default is to trust people up until the point where they let me down, it never occurred to me that you wouldn’t. We were coming at our relationship from completely different places and I didn’t understand that.”

There was another long silence, broken only by the sound of the ocean through the open window.

“I was closer to you than I’d ever been to anyone.”

“You never talked to me. And you didn’t sleep. At night you just lay there, awake. Then when it was light you’d fall asleep for a few hours.”

“I’d taught myself to stay awake. To me, monsters weren’t nameless, faceless creatures that lurked under the bed. They had a face and a name and they lived in my house.” It was something he’d never talked about, but he told himself that if he couldn’t open up in other ways, then at least he could give her this. “Night was the most dangerous time. I moved furniture and blocked the door, but I still had to be vigilant. And when he was drunk he was twice as strong as when he was sober.”

It was something he had never revealed.

All social workers had got from him had been silence.

Even Philip didn’t know all the details.

Saying it aloud felt strange, like stripping off your clothes and standing naked in front of a room of strangers.

Part of him wanted to snatch the words back, but it was too late.

Brittany propped herself up on her elbow.

“Your father?”

His mouth was dry. “My stepfather.”

“What about your mom?”

He thought about his mother, vicious, mean and utterly unsuited to be left in charge of anything, let alone another human being. “She stayed out of the way.”

“She didn’t try and protect you?”

“And put herself in the line of fire?” Why the hell had he started this conversation? Zach sat up in the bed, remembering now why he kept that part of his past carefully locked away. It leaked, ugly and thick as tar, contaminating all that was good about his life. “Why would she do that?”

“Because that’s what parents are supposed to do.” Brittany sat up, too, sitting shoulder to shoulder with him. “They’re supposed to protect you.”

“Protect?” He ran his hand over his face, finding the word almost laughable in the context of a conversation about his mother. “Whatever parenting manual you got that from, I can tell you my mother hadn’t read it.” Running from his thoughts and the conversation, he sprang from the bed and snatched up his jeans, pulling them on roughly. What had possessed him to talk about this?

He should have kept silent.

He should have— “I need to get out of here. I’m sorry, but I need to walk.”

“It’s raining.”

“I don’t care. I need some air.”

“Then I’ll come with you.” She was out of the bed, too, pulling on her clothes. “Wait for me. We’ll go together.”

“You don’t understand, I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” It was the growl of a wounded animal and Brittany stilled but didn’t back off.

“Then we won’t talk.” Her voice was kind and calm. “I’ll just walk with you.”

“Why? What’s the point?” He felt her hand on his arm. Gentle.

“Because a friend doesn’t leave a friend alone when they’re hurting. And you’re hurting.”

“Brittany—”

She slid her arms around him and hugged him tightly, then let him go before he could push her away. “Let’s go. I love the rain.”

“You don’t have a coat.”

She shrugged. “My skin is waterproof.”

His pulse rate was slower, his breathing more steady. The panic receded like the tide.

“I’m sorry.” He ran his hand over his face. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t ever have to apologize.”

“After what I did to you?” He gave a bitter laugh. “I could apologize for a month and it still wouldn’t wipe out what I did.”

She shook her head. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. For being naive, blind, selfish—I should have tried to get you to talk to me back then.”

“I wouldn’t have done it. I never have.” Realizing that his legs were shaking, he sat back down on the edge of the bed, embarrassed by the weakness. “What’s your earliest memory?”

She hesitated and then sat down next to him. “I was four. I was on the beach with my grandmother, digging in the sand. I remember crying because it started to rain and we had to run back to the cottage. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay and dig.”

There was a pounding in his head. “My stepfather moved in when I was three. That’s my earliest memory. I don’t remember a single day of my childhood when I wasn’t scared.”

There was a moment of silence and then he felt her press against him, as if she wanted to wrap his body with hers like a soothing bandage around a wound.

“Zach—”

“I couldn’t stop it happening, so I tried to detach myself from it. I switched my mind off, pretended it was happening to someone else. Then one night he overdid it. I was so tired I’d fallen asleep and he got into the room.” He wondered why his voice sounded so flat. “I was in the hospital for ten days and I never went home.”

“How old were you?”

“Eight.”

“They took you into care?”

“I went to a foster family for a while, but that didn’t work out.”

“Why not?”

“Because there are limits to what folks are prepared to deal with, and I was way beyond those limits. After that I was in and out of foster homes and residential care.”

She was silent. “I should never have pushed you to get married. I should have known, guessed, that after everything that had happened to you, you couldn’t trust. I should have known it wouldn’t work for you.”

“I wanted it to work. Marrying you was my one attempt at having a normal life. At being like other people. As if by marrying you I’d merge my background with yours and somehow wipe out who I was and where I came from. I thought you might be the cure.”

“If I’d known you felt that way, if I’d understood, I would have realized that we needed more time so that you could learn to trust me.”

“That wouldn’t have happened.”

“Because sometimes not trusting keeps you safe. Is that it? That’s what you said about Travis.” There was a long silence and then she moved closer. She curled into him, resting her head on his shoulder and curving her arm around him. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was choked. “I’m so sorry.”

“For what? None of it was your fault.”

“Yes, it was. I’m sorry for not looking deeper. For not encouraging you to talk about your past, even a little bit. I was so sure of us, so confident that we could withstand anything. I told myself that I was protecting your privacy. I was naive and ignorant.”

“My past wasn’t your problem.”

“How can you say that? From the moment we met, it became both of our problems. The present is built on the past and we can never really understand it until we dig down, layer by layer. Instead of ignoring it, I should have talked to you.”

“You’re beating yourself up over nothing. I wouldn’t have talked to you.”

“Because you didn’t trust me, but maybe if we’d talked properly you would have understood that you could trust me. Was that what went wrong with us? Were you keeping yourself safe, Zach? Did you think you needed to protect yourself from me? If we’d talked, would we still be together?” Her voice was clogged with tears and he felt the tension rush through him.

“Don’t cry. I hate it when you cry. And none of this was your fault. I blew it.”

“That’s not true. I was blind. I wasn’t a good friend to you.”

“We were lovers.”

“But we were friends, too. I should have come after you. Even if we couldn’t work our marriage out, I should have been there for you. I should have tried harder.”

He stroked his hand over her hair, feeling softness and silk. “This wasn’t an exam, honey. It wasn’t something you could study for and get top grades in. Nothing you did would have changed anything.”

“Do you really want to walk in the rain or can we go back to bed?” She lifted her head to his and kissed his mouth gently and he tasted the salt of tears on her lips.

He could feel the warmth of her. Her hair slid over his arm, tickling his skin. “Nothing is going to change, Brit. I’m not going to change. If you’re a smart woman, you’ll walk out of here and not come back.”

“That just shows you don’t know as much about women as you think you do, because no smart woman would turn her back on sex this good.”

Despite everything, she made him smile.

“If Kathleen had known the things we did in that cottage when she was out at her knitting group—”

“I’m sure she knew. We talked about everything.” She gave him a mischievous smile. “Okay, maybe not everything, but most things. She warned me about you.”

“Of course she did.” He wondered why hearing that bothered him so much. “She was a good woman and she was protecting you. She was right to tell you to stay away. You should have listened.”

“She didn’t tell me to stay away. She would never have done that. But she did tell me that she didn’t think someone like you would be able to open up.” She paused. “She was worried you wouldn’t be capable of intimacy. At the time we were finding ways to get naked on every available occasion so naturally I thought I had sufficient evidence to disprove her theory. I didn’t realize she was talking about emotional intimacy.”

“So knowing all that, you’re still sitting here? How do you explain that, Dr. Forrest?”

“I know a good thing when I see one.” She stood up, stripped off her clothes again and climbed onto his lap. Her hair slid forward, forming a dark frame around her wicked golden eyes. “We might be crap at marriage, Flynn, but we’re good at this.”

“This” was her pushing him back on the bed, guiding him into her and taking him deep in a series of slow, lascivious movements of her hips.

His body was devoured by smooth heat and the breath hissed through his teeth. She gave him a knowing smile as she moved slowly, running her hands over his chest and lower.

“You have an incredible body. Have I told you that?” Some distant part of him knew he should be delivering another warning, but he’d lost the power of speech. His head spun as all the blood in his body rushed south to enjoy the party. The tight grip of her body created a delicious friction that blew his mind. He was drowning in sensation, and he tried to move, but she laughed and kept him still, the way he had her.

“You’re not allowed to move until I say so. If you can torture me, then I can torture you right back.”

And she did.

Her hips moved in slow, sinuous movements and the full curve of her breasts filled his vision.

He was so aroused he couldn’t form a coherent sentence.

Usually, with sex, he was the one giving the master class but tonight he’d met his match.

And right through the whole intense, erotic experience she watched him, as he had watched her. And because he was watching he saw the moment her expression changed, saw her eyes darken and her tongue moisten her lips. Then she lowered her head to his and kissed him, the movement shifting the angle yet again.

Excitement screamed through him and he tried to hold back, tried to find the control he usually accessed with casual ease but this time she had all the control. He slid his hands down the smooth skin of her back and cupped her bottom, trying to still her writhing hips, but she moved in a relentless rhythm that wound the excitement tighter and tighter until they both shattered.

He felt her tighten around him like a silken fist and he emptied himself into her, his hand locked on the back of her head, his mouth consuming hers as they kissed like demons.

Eventually she eased away from him, a satisfied smile on her face as she delivered a final lingering kiss.

She said nothing.

Asked for nothing.

Zach wanted to warn her again that he was going to hurt her, but clouds of exhaustion rolled in, and when she curled into him like a sleepy kitten, he didn’t have the energy to push her away.

Instead he closed his eyes and did what he rarely did.

He slept.