“Uh-uh,” I murmur as Colton rubs his hands up and down my arms, the ocean breeze a biting chill against my bare skin, but I don’t want to ruin the moment. This evening—post garden argument—has been one that I’ll never forget.

Something has changed in Colton with the evening’s progression. It’s not something I can put my finger on exactly but rather several things that are subtly different. The little looks he’s given me. The causal touches here and there for no specific reason other than to let me know he’s at my side. That shy smile of his that I noticed he’s reserved for only me tonight. Or maybe it’s always been there, and I’m looking at things through different lenses now that I know Colton is going to try for the possibility of an us. He’s willing to try to break a pattern that he swears is ingrained in him. For me.

The pitch-black night is lit solely by the sliver of moon hanging in the midnight sky. I close my eyes, hum softly to Kiss Me Slowly floating from the speakers, and lift my face as the salty breeze drifts up onto the terrace where we stand. Colton rests his chin on my shoulder as he wraps his arms around my waist from behind. I melt into his warmth, never wanting him to let me go. We stand there, lost in our separate thoughts, soaking in the dark night’s atmosphere, and completely aware of the underlying current of desire between us.

Baxter barks at the gate to go down to the beach, and Colton reluctantly releases me to take him out. “Do you want a drink?” I ask, my body chilled the minute his warmth leaves mine.

“Beer, please?”

I wander into the kitchen and get our drinks. When I walk back out, Colton is standing, hands propped on the railing, looking out toward the empty night, completely lost in thought. His broad shoulders are silhouetted against the dark sky—the white of his untucked dress shirt a stark visual contrast—and once again I’m reminded of my angel fighting to break through the darkness.

I place my wine glass down on a patio table and walk up behind him, the crash of the waves drowning out the sound of my footsteps on the deck. I slip my hands through his arms and torso, my front to his back, and wrap my arms around him. A second after my body touches his, Colton spins around violently, a harsh yelp echoing in the night air, his beer flying from my hands, and shattering on the deck. As a consequence of his actions, I am shoved to the side, my hip smarting against the railing. When I clear the hair out of my face and look up, Colton is facing me. His hands are fisted tight at his sides, his teeth are gritted in rage, his eyes are wild with anger—or is it fear—and his chest is heaving in shallow, rapid breaths.

His eyes lock with mine, and I freeze mid-movement with my hip angled out, hand pressing on it where it hurts. A myriad of emotions flash through his eyes as he stares at me, finally breaking through the glaze of fear that masks his face. I’ve seen this look before. The utter and consuming fear of someone traumatized when they have a flashback. I purposely keep my eyes on Colton’s, my silence the only way I know how to let him breach through the fog that’s holding him.

My mind filters back to the last morning I spent in this house and what happened when I curled up behind him. And now I know, deep down, that whatever happened to him, whatever lives within the blackness in his soul, has to do with this. That the action—the feeling of being hugged, taken, held from behind—triggers a flashback and brings him momentarily back to the horror.

Colton breathes in deeply—a ragged, soul cleansing drag of air— before breaking eye contact with me. He looks down at the deck momentarily before shouting a drawn out, “Goddamnit!” at the top of his lungs.

I startle at his voice as it echoes into the abyss of night around us. That one word is filled with so much frustration and angst all I want to do is gather him in my arms and comfort him, but instead of turning to me, he faces the railing, bracing himself against it once again. The shoulders I admired moments before are now filled with a burden I can’t even begin to fathom.

“Colton?” He doesn’t respond but rather keeps his face straight ahead. “Colton? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“Just don’t do it again, okay?” he snaps. I try not to be upset by the vehemence in his tone, but I see him hurting and all I want to do is help.

“Colton what happen—”

“Look...” he whirls to face me “...we all didn’t have perfect-fucking-suburban-white-picket-fence childhoods like you, Rylee. Is it really that important for you to know I’d go days without food or attention? That my mom would force—” He stops himself, his fists clenching and his eyes getting a far off look in them before refocusing on me. “That she’d make me do whatever was needed to ensure her next fucking fix?” His voice is void of all emotion except anger.

I suck in my breath, my heart breaking for him and the memories that plague him. I want to reach out to him. Hold him. Make love to him. Let him lose himself in me. Anything to make his mind forget for just a moment.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” He sighs with remorse, scrubbing his hands over his face and looking up to the sky. “I find myself apologizing a lot around you.” He looks back down and meets my eyes, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry, Ry. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay to feel that way.” I take a step toward him and raise my hand and place it on his cheek. He leans his face into my hand, turning it briefly to press a kiss to the center of my palm before closing his eyes to absorb whatever emotions he’s processing. His acceptance of comfort from me warms my soul. Gives me hope that in time he might talk to me. His unfettered vulnerability tugs at my heart and opens my soul. Draws me in. When he opens his eyes, I look into them, searching their depths. “What happened, Colton?”

“I told you before. Don’t try and fix me...”

“I’m just trying to understand.” I rub my hand over his cheek one more time before I run it down and rest it over his heart.

“I know.” He exhales. “But it’s something I don’t like to talk about. Shit…it’s something no one should have to talk about.” He shakes his head. “I told you, my first eight years were a fucking nightmare. I don’t want to fill your head with the details. It was—fuck!” He pounds his hand on the railing beside us, startling both Baxter and myself. “I’m not used to having to explain myself to anyone.” He clenches his jaw, making that muscle pulse. We stand in silence for a while before he looks down at me with a sad smile. “I swear to God it’s you!”

“Me?” I stutter flabbergasted. What did I have to do with what just happened?

“Mmm-hmm,” he murmurs, staring at me intently. “I’ve never let my guard down. Never opened myself up to…” He shakes his head, his confusion and clarity written on his face. “I’ve been able to block things out for so long. Ignore emotions. Ignore everything, but you? You tear down walls I didn’t even know I was building. You make me feel, Rylee.”

I feel as if all of the air has been sucked from my lungs. His words render me thoughtless and yet inundated with thoughts at the same time. Possibilities flicker and flame. Hope sets in. My own walls crumble. My heart swells at his acknowledgement.

He purses his beautifully sculpted lips as he brings a hand up and sets it on my shoulder, his thumb aimlessly rubbing back and forth over my bare collar bone. “Feeling like this when I’m so used to living life in a blur…it’s drudging up old shit…old ghosts that I thought I’d buried long ago.”

He reaches his other hand out and places it on my waist, pulling me into him. I nuzzle my face into the underside of his neck, inhaling the uniquely Colton scent that I can’t seem to get enough of. He wraps his strong arms around me, clinging to me as if he needs the feel of me to help wash away some of his memories.

“I’ve lived for so long trying to close myself off from people. From this kind of emotion…Rylee? Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

His words nurture the love blooming in my heart, but I know he’s uncomfortable with his unexpected admission, and I don’t want him to suddenly freak out when he realizes it. Call for a pit stop. I feel the need to do something—add some levity—to chase away his demons if just for the night. I lean into him and brush a slow, intoxicating kiss on his lips until I can feel his erection thickening against my midsection and wiggle against it. “I think I can feel that easy enough,” I murmur against his neck.

His laughter vibrates through his chest against mine. “So beautiful.” He brings a hand up to my chin and tilts it back as he leans down and teases my lips with his. My name is a reverent sigh on his lips. His tongue caresses mine over and over, teasing me with a dance intent on complete seduction and utter surrender. I never thought it was possible to make love to someone by kissing alone, but Colton is proving me wrong.

He flutters his tongue gently against mine, the softness of his firm lips coaxing me to need more from him—to need things I never thought possible or could even exist again. His tenderness is so unexpected, so overwhelming, tears sting the back of my eyes as I lose myself in him. Lose myself to him.

“You are so breathtakingly beautiful, Ry. Not what I deserve, but just what I need.” He breathes into my mouth, his hands cupping my neck. “Please let me show you…”

As if he even has to ask.

I step up on my toes and thread my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. I look up at him, his eyes framed with thick lashes and chock-full of all of the unspoken words his actions are trying to express. I tip my head up and bring my lips to his as a response.