And damn, I wanted her. Craved her. Needed her.

She was the only one I’d ever felt connected to—the only one my heart woke up and shook off the ice for. The only woman who challenged me and took me down in the process.

I stepped forward and clamped both of my hands on the table, boxing her between my arms. She craned her head to keep my gaze, unwilling to back down. It was the quality that both frustrated the hell out of me and turned me on faster than anything—her constant refusal to yield for just a fucking second.

“Can I remember them all? Probably not.”

She snorted.

“You want to know why?” I didn’t wait for her to answer. “Because blonde, redhead, brunette—I saw their features for a millisecond. The moment I had one of them in my bed, they all had eyes the color of dark chocolate and hair so black it was almost blue…” I glanced at her hair. “Or purple. I never needed to remember them, because they were always you.”

“Don’t say things like that,” she begged. As if I could physically see her walls start to crumble, she softened. “You don’t get to say things like that to me. Not anymore. Not when everywhere I go on this ship there’s a bevy of girls you’ve fucked, Landon.”

“Yeah, well, I was a stupid asshole. And the worst part is that I used every single one of them to try to forget you, only to turn them into you in my mind. I have no excuse.”

“What do you want me to do with that?”

“Forgive me. I want you to forgive me. Not just say it, but mean it. Do it. I want another chance with you, because I promise I won’t fuck it up. Not this time.”

She swallowed, and my breath caught as I saw her—my Rachel—the side she protected and hid away from the world. The one she’d been before I’d destroyed her.

“Did you ever stop to think that there’s a difference between me forgiving you and me trusting you? I do forgive you for what happened with us years ago. We were kids. I don’t need to forgive you for becoming Casanova, because you didn’t do anything wrong. But that doesn’t mean I can trust you now.”

“You can,” I urged. “I lost you once. I’m never going through that again.”

“So what? You’re going to promise me forever? We’ve been breathing the same air for three weeks, Landon.”

“I didn’t need three minutes. The minute I saw you on that deck I knew I wasn’t letting you get away. Fate brought us—”

“Wilder brought us together!” she shouted. The music kept its driving beat, and it struck me as almost hilarious that I was having the most important conversation of my life in a damn club.

“Yeah, he pulled the strings—”

“You don’t get it, do you?” she cried, her hands fisting in the front of my shirt. “I loved you. I gave up everything for you, and you chose him. You don’t get to just jump in and get me back because Paxton Wilder snapped his fingers and offered me to you. I’m not his to offer, or yours to take.”

I blinked. “That’s what you think? That I only want you now because Pax says it’s okay?”

“Isn’t that the truth? Two years of silence from you, and then he serves me up on a platter for your dinner, so now it’s okay. Do you seriously not understand how badly I want you? How much I want to trust you? To try with you? Being with you again isn’t just a rush, it’s intoxicating. It’s like coming home—that’s how well you know me—but you burned that home down, and while I’ve accepted the past, that doesn’t mean I’m going to hand you the gasoline to torch my future.”

Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw a flash, the reflection of the light on the camera lens. “Damn it. Let’s go somewhere more private.”

“No,” she refused, letting go of my shirt. “The minute that happens, you’ll kiss me, and I can’t think when you do that.”

“Doesn’t that tell you something? That one kiss and we’re both lost?” I challenged. There was nothing compared to touching Rachel, to finding myself while I was exploring her.

“That we’ve still got some insane chemistry? That we’re still really attracted to each other and had some mind-blowing sex?” she threw back. “You’ve had sex with easily a dozen girls on this ship, Landon. What the hell makes you think I’m signing up to be added to that number?”

“You are the number!” I yelled, my temper finally snapping. “I can’t change what I’ve done. But I can tell you that there’s been no one since I saw you again. I haven’t touched, kissed, or even thought about sleeping with anyone else.”

She wavered, her shoulders slumping. “And how long could that possibly last?”

“Forever.” I answered instantly, and knew it to be true. “You’re it. You’ve always been it, and I don’t care if I have to prove it to you over the rest of this damn year—you’re the only girl I’m going to touch.”

She stared up at me silently, and I saw the war raging within her, hating myself for having put her in the position in the first place. Hating that I’d left her, thinking that it would be better for both of us in the long run, and yet wishing I could go back and tell the world to fuck off, to quit being Nova and just be Rachel’s Landon.

“If you’ll let me prove it to you, I swear that I will keep a personal bubble around me big enough for only you to fit into. And you’re pretty tiny.”