And it didn't mean she wasn't going to fight it with everything she had.

“When we were back in the cabin, you told me you wanted to listen. I want to do the same for you.” When he remained silent, she said, “I never really knew my parents. But you were ten years old when your mom—”

“Dammit, Janica, I don't want to talk about it.”

He wrenched his hand out of hers and turned away to head back toward the cabin.

Her heart broke for him, for all the pain he'd kept bottled up inside for so long. And even though she knew she should let him go, leave him alone like he wanted, she simply couldn't walk away from him.

Calling out to him over the waves, she said, “I only have one more question, Luke, and then I promise I'll go.”

Thank God, he stopped, turned back to her, his face carved in granite.

“You already know I love you. What else do I need to do to get you to trust me?”

* * *

Jesus. No one but Janica would stand there and ask him that. No one would dare.

Then again, he'd never let anyone in this close. It had never even been a possibility until now.

Until Janica.

They stood there, facing each other in silence long enough that the sun moved completely below the water line.

It wasn't until he could barely make out her face and form in the darkness that he finally admitted, “I don't know.” His heart was pounding so hard he could hardly say, “But I do know I don't want you to go.”

And then she was moving across the sand into his arms and saying against his lips, “Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere.”

Her mouth was soft and sweet. Just like, he was continually surprised to find out, she was.

So sweet.

So soft.

So warm.

“Let's go back upstairs to the cabin so you can fall asleep in my arms again,” she whispered, her breath warm against his earlobe.

But when they'd made it back up the stairs, sleep was the last thing on his mind. All he wanted was to be with her again, to lose himself in the comfort and joy of her body.

“I need you,” he said, knowing how raw his statement was, but utterly unable to keep that truth from her.

But there was no victory in her eyes at his admission of need. Just love.

“I know you do. And I need you too.”

This time, there was no rush. Neither of them was going anywhere else. And there was no anger, either.

“I want to love you, Janica.”

Again she said, “I know you do,” and something about the way she responded made him suddenly realize what he'd said. How it sounded.

Like he wasn't just talking about physical lovemaking.

Like he was talking about his heart.

Was he?

The impossible question fell away as she began to strip off his clothes and he reached for hers. Moonlight was streaming in through the windows, illuminating her incredible body.

How could he ever go back from her? How could he ever move on without her? How would another woman ever match up to her?

“I don't know how you're doing it,” he found himself saying.

“Doing what?” she asked, her hands continuing to make short work of his clothes.

He tried to figure out how to put it into words, into something that made sense when nothing made sense anymore. “Changing everything.” Even the things he hadn't thought needed changing. “So fast.”

“You're doing it too, Luke.” She reached out and placed her palm flat over his heart. “Changing me. I've never said I love you to anyone else. But with you, I can't seem to stop.”

Her words rushed through him, her love pushing up against every wall he'd ever built. It was instinctive for his brain to push back, to tell him to take a step back.

And he would. He had to. For both of their sakes. Because he still believed what he'd said in the kitchen, that the two of them were too different to ever truly be together.

But he couldn't walk away from her now. Not yet. Not when his need was so much stronger than his sense.

It had been exciting to take her on the couch, the living room floor, but right now he needed to love her properly, in a bed.

He scooped her up to take her to the bedroom and she said, “We'll get sand in the sheets.”

Looking down at her, wanting her more with every second, he said, “Then I guess we'd better get cleaned up first.”

He made a detour into the shower, stepping onto the ocean blue tile with her still in his arms. She reached out and turned the water on, laughing when it came down over them, cold at first, then warmer.

He kissed her, also laughing as the water soaked them, loving how playful she was.

When was the last time he'd been playful at all? With anyone?

“You know,” she said with a wicked little gleam in her eyes, “now that we're here, I think we should make the most of it.”

“I completely agree,” he said, and then a second later, he was shifting her in his arms so that her legs were around his waist and her arms were around his shoulders. He backed her up against the wall of the shower and kissed her with all the emotion he neither understood, nor could put words to.

He’d taken her so roughly in the living room on the couch with virtually no foreplay. She'd been ready for him then, but this time he swore he was going to take his time with her body. Make sure she had her fill of pleasure before he took his.

But, of course, she had other plans. Because before he could even so much as move his mouth from her lips to her breasts, she was shifting her weight on him, settling her hot pussy lips over the crown of his cock.

“I want to make this good for you,” he told her, but she was already sinking down on his cock, taking him in, stretching around him slowly, inch by inch.

“This is good for me. So good.”

Knowing he couldn't change her mind even if he wanted to, he gladly went with it, thrusting up into her in the next breath. She took him fully, even though he knew she had to be sore.

“I wanted to be gentle with you this time.”

“You are.”

He found himself not breathing, not moving, just staring into her eyes. She was staring too and he had a feeling she was seeing down deep into his soul, past the successful surgeon all the way to the real man inside. A man that he wasn't sure he really knew.

“I've never been with anyone like you.”