AS PROMISED, two weeks later, Zach flew Brittany to the hospital to have the plaster removed and afterwards drove her home.

After weeks of being restricted it was wonderful to feel the air on her skin.

“I have exercises to do, and one more appointment in a few weeks to check everything looks good, but I’m free. Thanks for flying me. I’ll cook you dinner as a thank-you.”

“We’re going out.”

“We are?” Surprised, she looked at him questioningly and saw something in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before.

“I booked a table at The Galleon.”

Her heart did a little dance in her chest. Since the picnic on the beach they’d spent almost all their time together, although little of it had been in public. But although the sex was incredible, she sensed nothing had really changed for him. Even in bed he had an air of cool detachment, as if part of him was separate from all the things they did together. “Is this an actual date?”

The corners of his mouth flickered into a smile. “I thought after ten years, it was about time.”

“Right.” She tried desperately not to read anything into it but her mind was already throwing out questions. “If you buy me dinner, there will be gossip.”

“There’s always gossip.” Zach took the road that led down to Castaway Cottage. “At least we’ll give them something juicy to gossip about.”

Brittany smiled. “And at The Galleon we won’t have Kirsti telling us our fortunes and slipping a magic potion into our food. Ryan takes Emily to The Galleon when he wants a romantic evening.” The moment the words left her mouth she wanted to bite off her tongue. “Not that I’m saying—”

“You don’t have to watch your words,” he said evenly. “You shouldn’t have to look before you take a step, Brittany. I booked the place because we’ve spent most of the last two weeks naked and feasting off grilled cheese sandwiches at two in the morning. I wanted to show you that your body isn’t the only thing that interests me. I wanted to have dinner with you.”

She was floored. Speechless. And confused.

She had no idea how to respond in a way that wouldn’t send him running, but fortunately she didn’t need to because he pulled up outside her cottage.

She wanted to ask what his plans were. Wanted to ask if he’d made any decisions about Philip and Camp Puffin, but she didn’t want to push him. She reasoned that if he had something to tell her about that, he’d tell her.

Instead of focusing on that, she focused on the cottage and the bay.

“I love it here. Leaving it seems to get harder every time.”

“Then don’t leave.”

She stared ahead, watching wispy clouds drift lazily across the horizon. Soon the leaves would turn and the temperature would drop. “Now that the plaster is off my wrist, there’s nothing to keep me here.” And she’d been putting off the decision about what to do next, a tiny part of her thinking, hoping—

Unwilling to accept even to herself what she’d been thinking and hoping, she slid out of the car.

Frustrated with herself, she stretched her hands into the air. “It feels amazing not to have that cast on my wrist—Zach!” she gasped as he scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift.

Breathless, laughing, she thumped his back. “What are you doing? Put me down—”

“I’ll put you down when I’m ready.” Pausing to toe off his shoes, he strode across the sand as if she weighed nothing.

When she realized what he intended to do, she started to squirm. “Don’t you dare drop me in the sea, Flynn. Put me down. Put me down! I’ll lose my flip-flops, soak my jeans, it’s freezing and—oh!” She felt a tug on her feet as Zach removed her flip-flops and dropped them on the sand and then he was wading into the water and she was laughing and clinging at the same time. “Don’t drop me!”

“A moment ago you wanted me to put you down. Make up your mind.”

“I’m going to kill you, Zach. I swear I’m going to—holy crap—” she gasped as he lowered her into the freezing water. “That is so cold!”

“All summer you’ve been telling me how much you missed swimming.”

She stood, shivering, as her calves turned slowly numb. “Obviously it was one of those memories I’d built up into something different in my head. Suddenly I’m missing the Mediterranean.”

“Wimp.” He was looking at her and she was facing out to sea, which was how she saw the wave racing towards them and he didn’t.

“Did you call me a wimp?” She held his gaze and timed it perfectly, her push sending him spluttering under the water.

He recovered quickly and grabbed her around the waist and she struggled to keep her balance, laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe.

“I’m soaked.”

“That’s what happens when you swim in the sea.”

“But people generally change into something more suitable, like a bathing suit or a wet suit. I can’t feel my legs. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. I may have frostbite. You’ll have to fly me to the hospital again, Flynn.”

“I have other ways of warming you up. Better ways.” He grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the water as another large wave rolled in and soaked the only part of her that was still dry.

Her hair was plastered to her forehead, her eyes stinging.

“These are my favorite jeans and now they’re stuck to my body and nothing short of a surgeon’s scalpel is going to be able to remove them. I swear I’m going to kill you.”

“Better do it inside. That way my body won’t be washed away.” Still holding her hand, he scooped up their shoes and together they walked towards the cottage.

Feeling the cool sand beneath her feet, she felt a pang of nostalgia. “When I was little, my grandmother used to pick me up and wash my feet off outside the door so I didn’t bring the sand indoors.”

Zach paused. “When your mother left, why didn’t she take you with her?”

“She was a single mother and I was settled in school and doing well. I loved the island.” She bent and brushed the sand from her feet. “I don’t remember my parents’ divorce being a great trauma. My father was away all the time when I was young anyway, so the divorce simply made it official. It didn’t change my day-to-day routine. And I always knew I was loved. I was lucky.” She sent him a look. “Is it hard for you to hear this?”

“That you had a happy childhood? No.” He reached out and smoothed a strand of damp, tangled hair from her face. “I’m glad you were happy. You deserve to be happy.”

So do you.

She kept the words in her head as she unlocked the door to the cottage. “My jeans weigh a ton.”

“I’m happy to help you with that, Dr. Forrest.” His hands closed over her shoulders and he lowered his mouth to her neck.

Heat shot through her and she closed her eyes. “How does that help? Or are you trying to melt me out of my pants?”

“Maybe I am.” He kicked the door shut behind them, took her hand and led her up to the bathroom.

“This shower is not built for two. It’s going to be cozy.”

“Cozy works for me.” He stripped off her jeans, T-shirt and underwear, followed by his own, and Brittany shivered and ran her hands over the hard planes of his chest.

She felt the familiar knot of scar tissue and pressed her mouth to it.

Tension rippled through him and he lowered his hands to her shoulders. His eyes were flinty dark, like the sky before a storm. “Don’t—”

“I wish none of that had happened to you.”

A muscle flickered in his cheek and he slid his fingers into her hair, massaging her scalp with his hand. “It’s all right.” His words were neutral but she felt the distance in him, that distance that she’d never totally managed to breach.

“Trust me, Zach.” She rose on her toes and ran her mouth over his jaw. “You don’t have to protect yourself anymore. Trust me not to hurt you. Let me in.”

There was a glitter in his eyes and an expression on his face that she didn’t recognize.

For a moment he stood perfectly still, and then he reached out and switched on the shower. She gasped as needle-sharp hot water cascaded over both of them, warming their skin.

He washed her, his clever fingers leaving no part of her undiscovered, and by the time he finally turned off the water she was trembling.

She tried to speak but tumbled straight into the penetrating heat of his kiss. Sensations blended together, racing over her skin and seeping into her pores. She was no longer cold but hot, feverishly hot, and he licked into her mouth, kissing her with intimate precision. She felt the heat of his palm slide up her rib cage and then he dragged his thumb over the tip of her breast and she went weak and pressed against him. “What time is dinner?”

“When we’re ready.” He wrapped her in a towel and carried her through to the bedroom, taking ruthless advantage of his superior strength as he flattened her to the bed.

“You’re going to make us late.”

He gave a slow, wicked smile. “Honey, I’m going to make you come.”

“Again? You’ve pretty much done nothing else for the past few weeks.” She laughed and then gasped as he spread her thighs. “Zach, stop—you can’t—we already—I don’t have time—I—Oh, God—” The laughter turned to a moan as she felt the slow, slippery sweep of his tongue against her most sensitive flesh. He explored her with ruthless skill, holding her captive as she writhed against the explicit torture.

She cried out his name and felt him rise above her, his body hard and heavy as he entered her with a single thrust that took him deep. She slid her hands down the taut muscle of his back, almost sobbing with the relief of being able to finally hold him with both hands. His skin was warm and sleek and she slid her fingers lower, down to his backside, arching her hips to take him deeper still.

He groaned deep in his throat and surged forward, finding a perfect rhythm, filling not just her body but her head and her heart.

In a tiny corner of her mind, appearing like the merest wisp of a cloud on a perfect blue-sky day, was a niggling worry that he’d never lower that barrier enough to lose that control and for once, she wanted him to forget technique and make love with his heart and not just his body. She felt the rasp of stubble against her skin as he kissed her neck, the ripple of muscle and the hard strength of his body and then there was a subtle change in his rhythm and all thought left her as he drove her skillfully to climax.

It felt as if it would never end, her body closing around his, her inner muscles rippling down his shaft. It left them both spent and he rolled onto his back and took her with him, holding her firmly.

Dazed, she lay there, drifting out of a sexually induced slumber, feeling his hand gently stroke the curve of her hip, wanting to tell him she loved him but too scared of driving him away.

AS LUCK WOULD have it The Galleon was crowded, which meant there was no chance their presence would go unnoticed. And anyway, he’d known from the moment Brittany had walked into the kitchen of Castaway Cottage that going unnoticed was an impossibility.

She’d chosen to wear a short blue dress that revealed mile-long legs.

He’d taken one look at her and almost swallowed his tongue.

“I’ve changed my mind about going out.”

She’d smiled and walked past him towards the door. “I’m hungry, Flynn. You need to feed me before we go another round.” So now here they were, staring at each other over fine linen, sparkling silverware and the flicker of candles.

They ordered without paying too much attention to the menu or the other people seated in the restaurant.

“A toast to our first proper date?” She raised her glass and smiled, her mouth a glossy curve.

He kept his expression neutral. “I have a distinct memory of buying you a pepperoni pizza from Jack’s. I can’t believe that moment isn’t etched into your memory.”

“Actually it is. It was great pizza. We ate it on South Beach. That was the night I decided I was going to have sex with you. It was two days after my eighteenth birthday.”

Zach felt hot all over. “I remember that night.”

“I dragged you to the cave and tried to get you naked. You showed a frustrating degree of self-control.” She leaned forward, silver earrings swinging. “I like the way you look in a jacket and tie. Makes me want to unwrap you.”

“So unwrap me.” Anything to reduce the sweltering heat. He wanted to fling open a window or demand that the restaurant staff turn up the air-conditioning.

“Not yet. Part of the fun is the anticipation. I bet you were one of those kids who opened all your presents on Christmas Eve.” Her merry smile faded and she looked guilty. “I’m sorry. That was so thoughtless of me. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“For being tactless.” She looked annoyed with herself. “Christmas must have been a horrible time for you.”

“It was no different from any other day.”

“That’s what I mean. It was a thoughtless thing to say.” She reached across the table and covered his hand with hers. “Again, I’m sorry.”

“You have no reason to be sorry. I’ve told you, you don’t need to watch where you step with me.”

“When I hurt a friend, I apologize.”

“I can’t imagine you hurting anyone.”

“Not intentionally, but we’re all human. And when I’m more human than I’d like to be, I apologize.” Her light tone was in direct contrast to the firm grip of her fingers.

He glanced down. Her nails were short and gleamed with clear polish, her fingers slim and delicate compared to his.

He didn’t know whether it was the warmth of her hand or the compassion in her voice, but something unraveled inside him.

“My first year in foster care, they had a large Christmas tree.” The words came from nowhere, without any forward planning on his part. “It was the first time I’d seen one up close. It was covered in huge sparkly decorations and chocolate wrapped in shiny paper.”

Her eyes lit up with humor and understanding. “You ate the chocolate. Of course you did. You were a kid. There was chocolate on the tree. It’s a no-brainer. And then you were probably sick.”

He could stop now.

He could let her leave with that version of the story in her head.

Or he could tell her the truth.

“I’d never tasted chocolate before, but I’d been hungry often enough to have learned that when I saw food it was best to take it. I took it.”

“Crap, Zach—” The laughter had gone from her eyes but her hand stayed on his. “You were hungry?”

“Most of the time. Sometimes I managed to steal something from the fridge, but there were plenty of days where there was no food in the house.” Days when the vicious gnawing pains in his stomach had been so bad he would have eaten just about anything that could be chewed and swallowed. “There was a grocery store close to our apartment.” He wondered if apartment was really the right word to describe the cramped, filthy space that had been his home growing up. “I often helped myself to breakfast.”

“Did they catch you?”

“No. I made sure they didn’t. Or maybe they guessed but decided letting a bony kid eat one meal was their charitable act for the day. I don’t know.” He shrugged. “On my first day with my foster family, I opened their fridge and it was full of food. I ate everything I could cram into my mouth.”

“I hope they refilled the fridge instantly. Did they have kids of their own?”

“Their kids had grown up and left home. I was their first foster kid. Their good deed. The way they were judged by the community. In their own way they kept me as trapped as my mother had. They didn’t trust me not to screw up and embarrass them.” He sat back as their food was delivered. “They deserved an easier start than me. I didn’t fit their notion of a dream child. They were expecting gratitude, but by then I knew that the only person looking out for me was myself. I was all about survival. I ate their food and I slept in clean sheets, but I gave them nothing in return except an almighty headache.”

“If they knew your background, then I’m sure they understood.” Still she didn’t remove her hand and Zach realized he didn’t want her to remove it.

“There was no way people like that could have understood.”

“Not what you’d been through,” she spoke softly, “but they should have understood that after the way you’d been forced to live your life, it wouldn’t be easy to gain your trust.”

“I think they spent too much time trying to anticipate what I’d do next to even think about gaining my trust. I stole food from the fridge and I couldn’t sleep in a bedroom without moving the furniture in front of the door. I broke two lamps and a chair hauling things across the room. The final straw was when my foster mother crept into the room one night to check on me. It was one of those rare occasions I was asleep. I woke up to find someone leaning over me. That had always been bad news in the past, so I attacked her. Things got a little messy after that. Four months after I arrived with them I was moved to another family, but not before they’d made sure I knew how disappointed they were by my failure to magically transform into the child they’d dreamed of. The social worker told me a while later that they’d adopted a baby. I’m sure that was the right thing for them. They needed a child who hadn’t formed any bad habits. A child who wasn’t going to rearrange the furniture and store food under the bed just in case there wasn’t any next time he looked.” While he’d been talking, the food had grown cold and their server had twice approached their table only to retreat when Brittany had given a brief shake of her head. “We should eat.”

“I’m more interested in talking to you than eating the food.”

“If I’d known that I would have ordered takeout and eaten it on the beach.”

“I wouldn’t have worn this dress on the beach.” She leaned forward slightly, the neckline hinting at the tempting dip between her breasts.

“In that case I’m glad I booked this place.”

Zach discovered he didn’t care that the food was cold because he couldn’t taste it anyway.

When he bought a woman dinner it was usually a precursor to sex. Everything from the exchange of looks to the conversation was leading up to that moment. There was very little that was personal about it.

But tonight felt personal.

Tonight felt different, which was why he’d—

Hell. “I’m sorry I told you all that.”

Her gaze lifted to his and he saw kindness and warmth in his eyes. “Why? Because it makes you feel uncomfortable or because you’re worried it makes me feel uncomfortable?”

“Both.”

“I’m sure it’s hard for you to talk about it, but it doesn’t make me uncomfortable. Angry, definitely, and a little sick to my stomach if I’m honest, but not uncomfortable. I’m glad you told me. Given your start in life, it’s a surprise you turned out so well. You were the human equivalent of Jaws.” She finished her food, a delicate tartlet of red pepper and goat’s cheese that had been more than happy to wait for her attention. “This is good.”

“You think I’m like Jaws?” He appreciated her attempt at humor. “Physically or psychologically?”

“Physically Jaws is by far the most attractive, I’m sure you know that.” She put down her fork, and sighed. “You lost trust in humans, and no one would blame you for that. Thank goodness for Philip and Celia. How is Philip, by the way?

“Refusing to believe he needs to give up doing some of the things he loves.”

“Has he asked you to take over?”

His stomach was hollow. “Not since the first time.”

“When, naturally, you said no.”

“Why ‘naturally’?”

She kept eye contact. “Because you’re afraid of letting him down. They love you, but you won’t let yourself trust that love. You’re afraid you’re going to mess up and that if you do, they’ll stop loving you. It’s natural not to want to disappoint the people we love, and you love Philip and Celia.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “I appreciate what they’ve done for me.”

“You love them.” She reached out and picked up her wine. “And they love you. They loved the boy you were back then and they love the man you’ve become. They didn’t give up on you. Not once. And what I’m wondering is, why is one set of evidence more meaningful than another?”

His mouth was dry and he took a sip of water. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“We make our decisions based on knowledge and experience. When you were young, the evidence told you that you had to look out for yourself because no one else would. You worked out that the way to stop being hurt was not to care. The way not to care was to stop making connections with people, so that’s what you did. But that changed a long time ago. You can’t live on Puffin Island and not make connections. It isn’t possible.”

“You’re saying I’ve made connections I don’t know about?”

She smiled. “No. I’m saying you’ve made connections you’re not willing to acknowledge. You think you’re the same as you were twenty years ago when you came here for the first time, but you’re not. None of us are. We’re all born with certain character traits but who we are, what we become, is the result of our experiences. If we know there’s a chance we’ll be eaten by a sabre-toothed tiger, we develop a weapon with which to defend ourselves. Humans change and evolve, not only in a macro sense over centuries but over a single lifetime. And I’m wondering when the last time was you really examined the evidence.”

“Evidence?”

“The evidence that there are plenty of people looking out for you. Not just Philip and Celia, but Ryan, Emily. Me. It’s the reason I scared you the first time. I cared about you.” She paused and then seemed to make a decision. “I loved you.”

Plenty of women had been attracted to him because he was the bad boy and he’d been happy to oblige, layering on an extra layer of badness just for them. At least their expectations had been easy to live up to. Walking away had been easy.

With Brittany it had been different.

He hadn’t walked away. He’d run.

“You were discovering your wild side.”

“I loved you. I admit it was a pretty immature kind of love. And maybe a little bit selfish, but it was love. And because I didn’t see any reason to hold those feelings back, I didn’t. But that’s in the past. Since then you’ve made plenty of connections, but you’re afraid to acknowledge them. You don’t want to admit that you feel, because if you feel you can be hurt and you worked out a way to stop yourself being hurt. You switched that side of yourself off a long time ago.” She gave an awkward shrug. “Sorry. That was a bit deep for our first real date. Are we having dessert? Because Em told me they do the best blueberry cheesecake.”

Zach wouldn’t have noticed if they’d fed him ashes.

She’d loved him?

He’d assumed their relationship was physical. That when he’d walked out he’d done her a favor. He’d assumed that any hurt he’d caused would have been superficial and short-lived.

“You didn’t know me.”

“I knew enough. Maybe not the details of your past, but I knew you. I saw how resilient you were, and how strong. I saw that you were prepared to use that strength to protect people and animals who needed protecting. I saw how you refused to let life crush you, how you took a passion and ran with it. I saw the belief you had in yourself. I loved all that.” She gave a half smile and sent him a look that fried his brain. “And I also loved the way you kissed and did all those other things.”

He didn’t smile.

The one thing that had kept his guilt in check over the years was the belief that their relationship hadn’t meant that much to her.

“If you felt that way then why, when you arrived back here, did you pretend you felt nothing?”

She shrugged. “Pride? Every damn person on this island was watching me, waiting for me to fall apart.”

“I hurt you.” His voice was rough. “How badly did I hurt you? I want the truth.”

She was silent for a moment. “Quite badly, but it worked out fine in the end. I went to college, and that’s where I met Emily and Skylar. They had problems of their own, and we kept each other going. Supported each other. We used to laugh that we were like a three-legged chair. If one of us left, that would be it. The other two would crash to the ground in a heap.”

Pain, guilt, regret mingled up inside him in a toxic cocktail.

“Let’s get out of here. We’ll eat dessert at home.”

She didn’t argue, and by mutual agreement they chose to go to Seagull’s Nest rather than Castaway Cottage because it was closer.

They made it back to Camp Puffin in record time, their hands and mouths greedy for each other as they stumbled through the door.

He didn’t bother removing her dress. Just shoved it up to her waist and drove into her again and again until she cried out his name and sank her fingers into his shoulders. There was a soft thud as one of her shoes fell to the floor and then the other, and then she was wrapping her legs around him urging him on.

If he’d expected the sex to extinguish the unfamiliar emotions, he was disappointed.

Afterwards he lit the wood-burning stove, while Brittany sprawled on the bed watching. “You look like Neolithic man, lighting the fire while woman lies here in wait.”

“Is that what happened? Seems to me woman had it easy.” He returned to the bed and folded her against him, feeling the warmth of her skin against his.

The glow from the fire sent a golden glow over smooth, bare skin. Her face was bare of makeup, her cheeks and neck slightly flushed from the brutal graze of his stubble.

With a flash of guilt, Zach lifted a hand to his jaw. “I should have shaved.”

She flashed him a grin that was pure sex. “No, you shouldn’t.” She pushed him onto his back and straddled him, lithe as a cat. Her eyes were sleepy and full of intent as she ran her palms over the roughness of his jaw. “I love you just the way you are.”

Her words knocked the breath from his lungs.

No one had ever loved him just the way he was. All his life people had wanted him to act differently, speak differently, just be different.

Acceptance had been a thing as alien to him as love.

But she, apparently, had accepted and loved him.

With a blinding flash Zach realized he’d walked away from the one thing that had always been missing in his life. Not because he hadn’t wanted it, but because he hadn’t recognized it. Hadn’t believed in it. Hadn’t trusted it.

For Brittany, he hadn’t been an outlet for rebellion, a statement, an experiment or any of the other things he’d assumed when he’d analyzed it using his own narrow reference.

She’d truly loved him, and he’d thrown that away. Feelings crashed over him, unfamiliar and disturbingly intense.

He’d had his chance and he’d blown it in spectacular style.

One thing, he thought. There was one thing he knew how to do right.

Rolling her onto her back, he slid down her body and spread her legs.

He clamped her writhing hips between his hands and licked into her, hearing her moan his name as he did so.

This intimacy he knew, and he excelled at the delivery.

She came with an agonized cry and he experienced all of it with his fingers and his mouth and then eased over her and entered her slowly.

Her body tightened around his and he closed his eyes and buried his face in her neck.

Her hair smelled of strawberries and summer rain and he could feel the warmth of her breath, uneven and fast against his skin.

He felt the gentleness of her fingers brushing against his jaw, heard the soft murmur of her voice as she whispered his name.

And then she whispered something else. Words that until tonight he hadn’t thought he’d ever hear. And she whispered them over and over again, like a mantra.

It shook him, unsettled him and he slid his hand under her, trying to find the smooth rhythm that usually came so naturally, but he couldn’t focus on anything except her voice and those words. They fell like rain onto parched ground, soaking into those cold hard places that no one, including himself, had ever been able to access. He felt something inside him shift and unravel and he gave a groan and tried to withdraw, but her legs were wrapped around him, her hands behind his neck as she drew his head down to hers.

“I love you.” This time she said the words against his mouth, and he kissed her deeply, trying to silence her, hoping that raw lust might burn out all these other feelings that were throwing him off his stroke.

But nothing felt the same.

He felt her arch, offering him more and he tried to give her the experience he knew she deserved, tried to find that smooth technique that never failed him, but every movement felt awkward and uneven.

It didn’t feel like technique, it felt like—

Making love.

He stilled above her but she moved against him, her body refusing to release him. He felt her feelings flowing all around him, seeping under his skin and deeper, warming parts of him that had been frozen into ice. The heat was intense and he struggled against it but she was drawing him in, saying his name over and over again, telling him how much she wanted him, how he could trust her, how she would never hurt him. And he opened his mouth to warn her that he was the one who was going to hurt her, that she should protect herself, that she should run, but the only sound that emerged was a fractured groan and still the heat spread, this time reaching those tiny corners of his soul that hadn’t seen light or warmth for several decades.

He’d already hurt her once. She should be holding back, protecting herself, but instead she gave and gave, stroking her hand over his cheek and then down over his back.

“I love you.” She spoke the words softly against his mouth again. “I still love you, Zach. It’s always been you.”

The words ripped him open, exposing that raw place he’d protected all of his life.

Emotion came rushing up inside him and he groaned her name, engulfed in sensations he didn’t recognize. He tried desperately to focus on her needs, but the mental detachment required was missing and the pleasure came rushing in, crashing over him in hot pulsing waves, drowning them both. He felt her hands tighten on his backside, and he drove into her again, emptying himself inside her. And through it all she kissed him, held him until there wasn’t a single part of him that hadn’t been touched by her warmth.

And afterwards they stayed locked together, strands of her hair clinging to his damp shoulder, as he held her close.

He knew what she wanted him to say.

He could see it in her eyes and feel it in the heavy, syrupy silence that was an inevitable consequence of what had just happened.

And he wanted to say something.

He wanted to apologize for not having given her the sex she deserved, for having lost his rhythm, his ruthless control, his mind.

He wanted to assure her that next time he’d get his head together and be back to his normal self. Wanted to tell her to wait around for an hour and he’d be sure to get his performance back to normal levels.

He opened his mouth to say something and then she reached up and delivered a lingering kiss to his mouth.

“That,” she said softly, “was the best sex of my life.”