We walk the deck after that, her hand in mine, fingers knitted together. The stars blink against the inky sky and the dark water is still as glass around the yacht. I don’t deserve her. I know I don’t. Regardless, I’m elated she finally confided in me, and I want to feel like this forever.

The concept of gentle sex crosses my mind. I don’t know how to be that kind of lover. I've never tried. I focus on getting harder and higher—and taking the girl with me. That won’t work for Cassie. I need to figure out what will, because I’m not letting her live like a chaste hermit, afraid of her own body.

I know Logan’s friend can help her. In our conversation, she explained the way the human body tenses to defend itself. Rape victims can get stuck with their muscles stiff for years. Imagine holding your hand in a fist for an hour. It fucking hurts. Now think what that does to a body after years of being stuck that way. Her core might be stuck like that, playing defense even though there’s no threat from me. Scars can feel painful, too. Most people don’t notice them, but others wince with the slightest caress. Touching Cassie intimately can bring back a slew of emotions I never want her to feel again.

It doesn’t mean no sex forever.

It means a lot of patience and even more time.

That conversation with Logan’s friend was one of the most uncomfortable situations I’ve ever experienced. She described the female response to rape to explain the male response. I cut off the conversation there, and she never spoke of it again. At the time I wished it hadn't happened, but now I’m glad it did. I wouldn’t have recognized how to help Cassie without it.

We stop at the railing and look out at the sea. Cassie leans on the metal bars while lifting my hand. She traces a circle on the back of my wrist, smiling softly as she does. “Do you remember kissing me here?”

Her touch is light, perfect. My voice hitches when I speak. “I could never forget that.”

Her dark eyes shift to the side and glance at me before lifting my wrist to her lips. The heat of her mouth and brush of her tongue against my skin makes my heart beat harder. She steals my breath and inspires an instant response below my belt. I shift my stance, giving my growing girth more room.

Cassie continues to kiss me there, slowly dragging her mouth over my skin, licking, teasing, and kissing me there. I’m out of my element. I don’t know what to do, what’s next after sucking off a wrist. Do you go for an ankle? This is so fucking weird.

I scold myself. I’m thinking too much. The object is to make her feel loved and desired, while being very careful not to make her come hard. It’s the opposite of everything I’ve always done. I can’t go from her lips to her tits, and do my magic hands on her pussy. It’ll hurt her, and I want her to feel good.

Cassie pulls away and looks up at me. “When do we need to be back?”

I can’t think. Her voice shoots straight to my groin, and I’m annoyed that I’m such a dick. Why can’t I focus on her? I can usually turn it on and off, but not with her. I stay that way, craving her kiss, wanting her touch, and any other form of affection she’ll toss my way.

“Whenever we want.”

A smile slips across her face. “Really?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Can we stay out here overnight?”

“If you’d like. There are beds below.”

She presses her lips together and points to a spot on deck. “Can we bring some of the blankets up here? Maybe lay down, look at the stars, and pick up where we left off all those years ago?” Her wide brown eyes are locked on mine so intently that I can see the flecks of gold around her irises. Those dark lashes lower and then open again, shyly.

I’m careful. I want to bound around the deck, whooping with glee, but I keep my voice level, “If you want.”

“I do.”

I don’t know what to tell her. How can I seduce a woman when I’m afraid I’ll cause her pain? I drop my gaze to the deck. Staring at the wooden planks, I confess, “I don’t know how to do this, Cassie. What if I hurt you?”

She takes my hands in hers and rises on her toes. “I’ll tell you if it hurts, and you’ll do something else. And if I do something you don’t like, for any reason, you’ll let me know so that I can try something else.”

That sounds really good, perfect even, but there’s one thing that bothers me, and if it’s in my head I know it’s in hers. “I don’t want to sound like a prick, but what about you being married and your ideas about sex? That it’s for marriage? Stolen kisses and things that don’t belong to me? Cassie, baby, I’d be content just being your friend, if that’s what you wanted.”

She looks up at me from under those dark lashes and squeezes my hands. “I can’t handle you as a friend. I want you too much. Those feelings aren’t dead. They’re still there. My affection for you isn’t platonic, so while you might be okay being friends and only friends, I’m not. I don’t want you with other girls. I want you for myself, and I don’t want to share.”

It feels like I’m walking through a battlefield with no armor every time she talks about us. I want her to tell me the truth and not hold back. I keep expecting her to walk away, but she doesn’t.

I let out a sigh of relief and run my hand through my hair. “Thank God.” My brow lifts and I look at her, offering a suave smile. “I was totally lying. I want you, too, more than you could possibly know.”

Her giggle is light, and the way she looks at me says it all. “So, what do we do?”

“We figure it out.”