I shook my head. My therapist would be all over this shit.

“How long are you here for, Monroe?”

Thank God. A question I could answer.

I wiped a crumb from my lap. “’Til Labor Day weekend. My parents are coming from New York.”

“Right. New York. I’ve never been, but it’s on the list.”

“The list?”

“Yep. The list of places I want to go. LA is at the top and New York is running a close second.”

Huh.

“Trust me, it’s overrated,” I answered. I wished I didn’t have to go back. It if wasn’t for Kate and my parents, I’m not sure that I would.

“So do you go to a fancy school there in the Big Apple?”

I knew his eyes were focused on me, so I kept mine on the water, watching the swans slowly float in circles across the way.

“Yes,” I said finally. Glen Hill Academy.

I hate it there.

“Why do you hate it there?”

Startled, I turned to Nate—which was the wrong thing to do, because he was staring at me with an expression that felt as if he could see right inside me. I swallowed hard and croaked, “Excuse me?”

His eyes never left mine. They held me trapped as surely as if he had some freaky kind of tracking device like on those old Star Trek movies I used to watch with my dad. The ones that pulled in objects and never let go.

“You said you hated it there. I just wondered why.”

Shit. Had I said that out loud? What was wrong with me?

“It reminds me too much of someone,” I blurted, my heart picking up steam and banging inside my chest wall like a demented drummer. What the hell kind of power did this guy have?

Some weird expression crossed his face, and then he spoke softly. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well don’t be.” I shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”

Except it was. It was a very big deal. And it was a big deal that wasn’t going to go away, no matter how much I pretended it would.

It was the big deal that had broken me.

“Let’s go in,” Nate said abruptly, jumping to his feet and holding out his hand for me.

I glanced at the water again and then back up to him.

“You’re not afraid of the swans, are you?” he challenged.

“No,” I answered, ignoring his hand as I got up. A shiver rolled over me, which was odd considering it was so darn hot. “Is the water clean?”

He’d chucked his sandals and had his hands on the waistband of his shorts. My mouth went dry, and some stupid lump decided to clog my throat as I watched him begin to tug them down over his hips.

“What are you doing?” I squealed. I thought of his teasing earlier, and my alarm ramped up to about one million. There was no way I was gonna skinny-dip with Nathan Everets. No effing way.

His grin was as annoying as ever. “I don’t have a bathing suit with me, so I’m gonna go in with my boxers.” He paused, his hands tucked inside his boxers. “Unless you want me to—”

“No, boxers are fine.” I tried not to stare when he stepped out of his shorts, but it was hard. The guy was ripped. He was ripped and hot and sexy and he was standing a foot away in a pair of black athletic boxers that didn’t hide anything. And holy hell but Nathan Everets had a lot to hide.

I swallowed hard and turned away, easing out a long breath, when I heard a splash and knew he was in the water.

“Damn, but this feels great. Get your ass in here, Blackwell!”

I turned and spied him halfway across the pond, floating on his back for a few seconds before he whooped and disappeared beneath the surface once more.

The sun made the surface of the water shimmer like diamonds, and seconds later, his head popped up closer to shore—closer to me. He grinned and I couldn’t help but do the same as I watched him. He was like a little kid, and there was something adorable about that.

“Come on. Get your clothes off or I’ll come out and get you.”

Alarmed, I took a step back. “I told you I wasn’t sure if I was going in or not.” I wasn’t normally shy or anything, but the thought of Nate seeing me in my bikini made me nervous. Or excited. Or both.

But the thought of being so close to him when we were practically naked was way worse. That made me feel all kinds of things I hadn’t felt since…

Heck, who was I kidding? I hadn’t felt any of those things before. Not even back then. And it had been so long since I’d had any kind of fun. Since I’d felt like having any kind of fun that, for a moment, I don’t even think I realized what it was I was feeling.

Anticipation.

“Okay, I’m coming to get you.”

My head whipped up and I squealed, hands on my shorts. “No, I’m coming in.”

But he didn’t listen, and I’d barely gotten out of my clothes when he was there, inches from me. His tall body, wet and shiny and incredible.

My eyes dropped.

His boxers were wet and…

My breath caught as I slowly slid my eyes back up over all that skin. Over the razor-thin line of hair that disappeared beneath his boxers. Over the washboard stomach and rippled abs. Higher to the tattoo on his shoulder and arm that said danger. And sex. And danger.

Sex.

Up past his defined chest and broad shoulders.

Until I met eyes that jump-started something in me that was foreign. Something that was hot and exotic and scary.

Something that was so incredibly alive, it made me weak. I’d been half dead for so long, the sensation was almost overwhelming, and I bit my lip as tears stung the corners of my eyes.

Quickly I glanced away, ashamed at my reaction and feeling like a total dork. What was I doing here? I couldn’t play this game with Nate because I had no idea how to play it. I’d been locked in a cocoon of pain for so long that I didn’t even know how to communicate and act normal with a regular boy, let alone someone like Nathan Everets—a guy who was so far above me I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to reach him.

But the way he looked at me sometimes…

Suddenly aware of how revealing my pink bikini was, I crossed my arms over my chest and shivered.

My eyes squeezed shut, and I wished I was home with Gram, curled up on the front porch with a book I pretended to read while she flipped through her gardening magazines.

“Hey,” Nate said, a touch of rasp in his voice, and I thought that maybe a tremor rippled just beneath. “Are you all right?”

I nodded, afraid to say anything because I didn’t trust that I wouldn’t make a complete ass out of myself.

“Good.”

And then two strong arms were around my waist and a shriek fell out of me—one that would have made my mother proud—as Nate lifted me over his shoulder and carried me to the edge.

I didn’t get a chance to say anything because at the moment, my brain was focused on how hard he felt. There were no soft curves—there was no soft anything. He was all hard, lean, and muscled lines, and his skin burned into mine.

And God, he smelled so good.

I shook my head, suddenly aware that my butt was near his face and that his hand was on the small of my back, holding me in place. When I finally got my shit together and opened my mouth to say something, it was too late.

There was the feeling of air on my exposed skin. Sun in my eyes. And then there was the shock of cold water.

I went deep and began to kick my legs, grateful for the silence that fell over me and the darkness in which I could hide, however briefly. My legs kicked and kicked, my arms joining in, and when I finally surfaced and cleared the water from my eyes, I was surprised to see that I’d swum halfway across the large pond.

I glanced down. Good. Bikini still in place, nothing exposed that shouldn’t be.

The swans protested and took off, their large graceful bodies slicing through the air as they landed on the soft grassy bank, honking their annoyance.

Treading water, I turned around and I think I might have yelped when I spied Nate so close to me, his head above water as he watched me intently.

I wished he didn’t make me feel so nervous. I didn’t like nervous. It meant that I wasn’t in control, and ever since that awful night, the one I don’t like to talk about or remember, I was all about being in control.

“Feels good,” he said softly. It wasn’t a question.

I nodded, my eyes not leaving his as he floated closer. Wet, his hair clung to his neck and disappeared into the water, while a slow grin swept across his mouth.

I began to move backward. I couldn’t touch the bottom where we were, and I had no idea how long I could tread water before I’d begin to tire.

I moved back maybe ten feet and he kept pace, his eyes still on mine. Still making me nervous.

“What are you doing?” I said roughly, eyeing the bank but thinking the swans wouldn’t be happy if I hauled my butt out onto their territory. Did swans attack people? Should I chance it?

“What do you think I’m doing?” he asked.

I thrust my chin up and made a face. “I don’t know. That’s why I asked.”

I refused to keep playing whatever game this was, so I continued to tread water, and even when he floated so close I could see the drops that clung to his eyelashes, I refused to budge. I wasn’t used to these kinds of games.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked.

I said nothing because I had no idea what to say, so I shrugged, which was kind of hard to do while treading water.

“I’ve been thinking about kissing you since yesterday.”

Holy. Hell.

“Really,” I managed to say, glad to hear the tinge of sarcasm I was going for was present.

“Yes.” His finger grazed my thigh, and I swear my heart was going to beat out of my chest. “Really.”