One of the most important things I’d learned from my time in the league, and just from playing football in general, was to go after everything you wanted with a vigor that would not take no for an answer.

In every contract negotiation, I went in with a clear head and my terms, exactly how I wanted them. I’d never been turned down or given less than what I’d asked for.

During every play, I went my hardest and ran smart routes, choosing my spots and succeeding in bringing victory to my team.

And with Demi, I wasn’t about to back down just because I had built some tough-ass obstacles for myself to overcome.

This time, she had actually agreed to go out with me. Instead of me having to force her there using a child and his illness. Sure, I could tell she was still skeptical, but I was wearing her down, and that was a tactic I knew how to use well. I’d gotten my ass beaten by huge defensive linemen for years, and I could tell you, Demi Rosen was probably tougher than all of them combined.

No, not probably. Definitely.

Setting the knotted rope I’d just secured down, I put a hand over my eyes to watch the dock for visitors. I’d told her to meet me here, knowing she would want to drive herself so she’d have an escape if she wanted it.

However, I’d outsmarted her on this one. Getting her on a boat, where she had no escape, would force her to open up a little more to me. Unless she really wanted to escape me, in which case she could abandon ship and swim back to the dock at Tailrace Marina. I wouldn’t put that past her.

Since moving back to Charlotte, I’d had one of my boats transported to the marina just outside the city. I know, it sounds obnoxious saying just one of my boats, but I was a boy who’d grown up on them. My salary afforded me the luxury of keeping up the hobby, and it was one of my only vices these days.

It was surprising to many that my parent’s deaths hadn’t stunted my love of the water. But if anything, I felt more connected to them when I was out there, free from the land and cutting through the depths of oceans or lakes. Out there, on the open water, you answered to no one. You could just … be. And I was free to feel anyway I wanted about my parents. Happy, for their love of the water and the way they taught us to love it. Sad, that it had taken them way too early. Scared, that I would never find the kind of love that I hadn’t realized they’d given me until it was too late.

“He’s athletic, charitable, a celebrity, knows how to sail boats … seriously, is there anything you aren’t good at?” Demi stands at the beginning of the gangway that leads up to my boat, her hands on her hips.

She looks like some picture out of a sailboat magazine, one of those slender, elegant models posing in Monte Carlo or something. Her outfit is lightyears more sophisticated than my cargo shorts and T-shirt. She probably went out and bought the perfect sailing attire, just for this occasion. It was cute, and I knew she cared about this.

“Chemistry, fucking terrible at it. Hence why I chase a ball around a field instead of mix things in test tubes,” I joke, wiping my hands off and going to help her up the gangway.

I take her hand, leading her up onto the deck, and take the oversized bag she has slung over her shoulder. When I pick it up, I almost drop it, not expecting it to be that heavy.

“Holy shit, what the hell is in here?”

“A woman never reveals her secrets.” She winks at me.

“Yeah, because she carries them all in her ginormous bag. Why do women do that? Why do they need a bag the size of Texas? You can’t possibly need half the stuff in here.” We walk to the cushioned benches, and she sits, removing her sandals.

“I need all of it. What if I get a blister on my heel? I have Band-Aids and Neosporin. Happen to get hungry? I’ve got snacks. Need to follow-up on emails? My tablet is charged and ready. Haven’t you ever wondered how women can multitask like men never could? It’s partially the bag.”

I chuckle, because Demi is so damn sexy explaining things to me while practically undressing. She’s shed her sandals and the light sweater she had on, leaving her in a one-piece bathing suit that’s making my mouth water, and white linen pants. The sun catches her hair, the strands of light brown glistening. I want to kiss her, capture her mouth and make her succumb to me, but I hold back. My nails dig into my palms as I force my cock to quiet down.

“Whatever you say. Now, why don’t you go sit up there while I cast us off?” I point to the cushions on the back of the boat, the ones that give the best view of the retreating harbor.

She smiles, a raw, happy expression, and quickly bounces over to them. I want to give her some time to herself, after all, I think this is probably a rare moment for her. From what I can gather from the team, and from Demi on the couple of dates we’ve been on now, she is a total workaholic. Today is the first time she’s agreed to take a break for me, and I want her to feel comfortable and relaxed before I really turn the charm on. I’m determined to open her up, and maybe get the kiss I’ve been waiting for.

We spend the first half an hour of the date apart; me working hard to adjust and steer and get us into the water smoothly. It’s hard work, one that leaves my muscles burning and the eye for detail sharp.

Demi lies back on the sundeck, watching the big sails go up, and letting the sun wash over her face. When I finally lower the anchor, securing our position in the open sea, I make my way to her with beers in hand.

“You know, I typically don’t drink beer.” She examines it before clinking her bottle against mine and taking a sip.

“What, you got too sophisticated since your days of drinking Keystone out of kegs?” I nestle closer to her.

Our knees are touching as we lounge next to each other, and being this close to her without touching her face or pulling her waist into mine is killing me.

She lightly taps my shoulder in a playful hit. “College doesn’t count. You’ll drink anything that’s cheap and/or free.”

“True.” I let the silence settle over us, the water lapping at the boat.

“You love it out here, don’t you?” Her brown eyes examine me.

“I do.” I nod, not needing to explain further.

“It reminds you of them.” It’s not a question from her, just a statement.

I forget that she knows me. And she also knows people dealing with death and grieving. And it’s her job to know how to make it better. In some ways, even after all of these years since losing my parents, that is a comfort.

We finish our beers, not needing to fill the air with chatter. Maybe this is what it’s like to find the person who most truly fits you. The kind of relationship that doesn’t need words or banter, although those are nice. The ability to sit in comfortable, companionable silence … perhaps that’s how you know you’ve found her.

After another gap of time, I reach over, lacing my fingers through Demi’s. Our eyes meet, and every emotion within her is communicated to me. She’s letting me see her fear, her lust, her willingness, her hope.

“You can kiss me now.” The words are quiet, but there is no wavering in her tone.

I cup her cheek, pausing just centimeters from her lips to look more deeply into her eyes. And then we both flutter our lids closed, and I lean in.

The kiss is soft, searching. A coming home after years apart. The taste of her, the exploration of our lips and tongues together, makes me dizzy. Stokes the fire inside me, sending both lust and the sensation of falling in love spiraling down my spine.

I don’t stop. I just keep kissing her, over and over now that I’m allowed. Hours pass, the sun starts to set, and still, I can’t pry my mouth from hers.

This day should be endless. It should last and last until nothing else fills me but Demi.