He suddenly let me go, backing up and dragging hands over his face. His wet lips glistened in the moonlight as they spread into a crooked grin. “Fuck, I want you so much I could take you right here—damn anyone watching.”

My chest rose and fell as lust spiraled in my system, burning my morals to dust. “Let’s go. The sooner we’re out of here the sooner we can be alone.”

The desperate look in his eyes almost made me come.

Holding out his hand, he ordered, “Let’s go, then. Before we’re arrested for public indecency.”

We hadn’t gone far—maybe half an hour—when Arthur eased on the throttle of his fierce two-wheeled monster.

The township where Dagger Rose ruled had long since disappeared as we turned off the main road and followed a rabbit warren of lanes.

The bumps and dips didn’t help my sore ass, and my spine screamed by the time Arthur killed the engine.

We stopped at the beginning of a track, sand covered almost everything, and there wasn’t another soul around.

Thank God it was a full moon tonight, otherwise we would never have been able to see in the darkness.

Arthur climbed off, stretching.

“Where are we?” I asked, ruffling my hair.

Grabbing my waist, he pulled me effortlessly from the bike, pressing my body against this as he let me slink down his front to my feet. “Not telling,” he murmured as his fingers kissed my throat, undoing my helmet before letting it drop to the sand-covered grass below.

His eyes were green beacons in the ghostly silver night and the silhouettes of trees protected us rather than haunted.

“You tell me where we are, Cleo.” He ducked, nuzzling his nose behind my ear. “Tell me what I did to you here.”

My core clenched as the need that had consumed us at the diner came back with vengeance.

“I—”

With a soft smile, he pulled away. With our fingers linked, he guided me forward. He didn’t say a word as we made our way down an overgrown track, our shoes sinking deeper into sand the farther we walked. The balmy evening hummed with insects and the occasional slap of water.

The tide?

I narrowed my eyes, willing any memory to come as we moved into wilderness.

“Tell me,” he whispered. “Don’t say you’ve forgotten. Don’t break my heart that way.” His lips tilted into a lopsided grin.

Even though he meant it as a joke, it still hurt to think how hard all of this would be for him. If I was in his shoes I would be a mess thinking of all the special times we’d had together being lost. For them to mean so little they’d been forgotten.

“I would never intentionally hurt you, Art.” I squeezed his fingers. “You know that, right?”

He looked away, but not before I caught the same guilt and misery that he’d worn before believing me.

“I know there’s more you’re not telling me. You don’t have to be afraid.”

He swallowed hard. “Don’t push me, Cleo. Time, remember? I still need time to get used to all of this.” Yanking me to a stop, he cupped my cheek. “To get used to having you back—despite everything that happened to ruin us. Let’s just enjoy this.” He kissed me feather-soft. “Please?”

I sighed against his mouth. “Okay.” Trying my best to lighten the mood, I whispered, “So what exactly did you do to me here?”

I shuddered as he wrapped an arm around my hips, pressing me firmly against his erection. “I finally gave in to you. I broke a few laws bringing you here.” He laughed at a memory still lost to me. “Goddammit, you were so young. Too young. But we both knew what we wanted. You—fuck… you never took no for an answer.”

His voice dropped to a teasing murmur. “You want to know what you did to me in return that night?”

“Yes.” My heart bucked as moisture built between my legs. “What did I do?”

His eyes glazed over with reminiscent lust. “You made me come. For the first time, but definitely not the last.”

My heart squeezed.

Letting me go, Arthur stole my hand again, drifting forward to where ever he wanted to take me. I would follow him anywhere. My mind was consumed with images of making out with my green-eyed lover, thrilling with accomplishment at making him come undone in my hands.

Arthur whispered, “You were so wet. So fucking sweet and responsive.”

My mouth went dry as my core turned deliciously damp.

“I didn’t mean to go so far. I didn’t mean to lose control. But you made it so damn hard to say no.”

The undergrowth suddenly gave way to the most perfect white private beach. The water glittered like gemstones—sapphires, turquoise, and lapis beneath the moonlight. The tree fronds acted as sentries keeping us safe from prying eyes, while the sand was white and virgin as freshly dusted snow.

The present fell away, giving way to the past.

“You can touch me, Art. I want you to touch me.”

I didn’t know what’d gotten into me but the mere thought of having his fingers on me, in me—it drove me a little mad. My mother had had the sex talk with me when I started my period two years ago. She’d told me the mechanics of lovemaking—of how babies were made and how sexually transmitted infections could tear my life apart.

But she hadn’t mentioned the coiling, twisting anticipation or the sparkling awareness I suffered whenever Art was close.

Everything she’d said had fascinated and terrified me, and I made a vow to never get involved with the opposite sex until I understood every complication.