“Landon…I’m not responsible for the way she’s about to dismember you.”

I looked at her pale skin, the bags under her dim eyes, and wished I could take her pain away. “Penna, at this point, her screaming at me would be a welcome change from the apathy I’ve gotten. Rachel is all fire and passion, and as long as I can tap into that, I have a shot.” I squatted down in front of her until she looked at me. “And the same goes for you.”

She looked away but nodded, which was more than I’d gotten out of her since the accident.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a woman to piss off,” I said.

I took a deep breath and went down their hallway until I reached the bathroom door. The water was still running, and I knew from the layout of our suite that she had to come out this one door. But what the hell could I do to keep her in there long enough for me to make my point?

A lightbulb went off in my head. Slowly I opened the bathroom door—and kept my eyes averted from where I knew her sexy, naked body was so very, very wet just a few feet away. God, I’d missed her body, her slight curves, that toned stomach, and her pert breasts. I missed the way she’d felt under me, above me, the fearless abandonment in the way she made love to me.

My chest constricted when I thought about her smile, the one she’d reserved for only me, the sound of her tiny gasps in my ear when I slid inside her tight body for the first time. We’d been so young, so inexperienced, and it had been so fucking perfect.

I snatched her clothes off the toilet seat and quickly tugged away all three towels before escaping, shutting the door behind me.

“Penna?” Rachel called out, obviously having heard me.

She continued her shower, and I went over everything I wanted to say in my head as I put the pile down next to me. Fuck, what did I want to say?

The shower stopped, and my heart had the opposite reaction, starting to pound.

“What the hell?”

Even pissed, her voice did things to me, brought back those damn feelings I’d just told Penna about. Hell, I’d always loved when she was pissed off at me—pushing me to be better, expecting nothing but what she knew I was capable of. She’d had enough faith in me for the both of us…until I fucked that all up.

“Penna?” Rachel poked her head out of the door, water dripping from her hair. “What are you doing?” she shouted at me and slammed the door in my face.

Showtime. I braced my hands on either side of the doorframe and attempted to find my balls. Right. Okay.

“Look. This was the only way I could think of to keep you from running away from me. We’re on a damn ship, Rachel. At sea. There’s literally nowhere to run away to.”

“I’ve done a damn good job so far,” she spat back, and I smiled. That was my girl…well, Rachel. I’d lost the ability to call her mine a long time ago.

“You have. I’m pretty impressed, really.”

She was silent, so I forged ahead. “I wish I could say that I rehearsed this moment, that I had this eloquent speech prepped, but that would be bullshit. I never imagined this happening, and I never prepped anything because I never thought I’d get the chance to see you again. If I’d known…God, I would have done so many things differently.”

I paused, waiting for her to say something, but she stayed silent.

“I know what Pax did to get you here, and I know that you’re under no obligation to talk to me, and I’m definitely not stupid enough to think you’re even contemplating giving me a second chance.”

Wait. Was that even possible? Understanding, maybe, but her actually trusting me again? I shut that thought down before it ran away with me.

She scoffed, pretty much confirming that wasn’t going to happen. Thank God I kind of had her captive, because none of this was coming out right.

“Right. I’ll be quick—you’ve got to be getting cold. My point is that what happened back then…what I did to you. It was wrong. I was wrong. I did the wrong goddamned thing for what I thought was the right reason, and I’m so damn sorry—”

The door opened, and I stepped back in shock. Maybe I should have led with the sorry in the first place.

Rachel stood there, gloriously nude, water dripping down her petal-soft skin, and it took every ounce of willpower from every man in the world to keep my eyes on her face. She openly glared at me then lifted a single eyebrow, bent to grab her clothes off the floor—holy shit, her ass could stop traffic—and walked right past me, her head held high.

My mouth actually watered with every step she took, and I snapped my lips closed to avoid drooling. I barely contained my groan, unsure of what was sexier—Rachel’s perfect body that I knew fit mine like a damn puzzle piece, or her I-don’t-give-a-fuck confidence as her hips swayed down the hall.

I should have known that a bathroom door was no match for her tenacity.

Point made.

My heart sank when I looked closer at her lower back. There was a vague, silvery mark, but no tattoo. She’d had it removed. Erased it. Erased us.

She slammed her bedroom door, and I followed until my head rested against the wood. “Fuck, you are so stubborn,” I whispered, but it came out as more of a compliment than a measure of my frustration.

I heard a small thud where her head would be if she were in the same position, and some of the fight drained from me. If she didn’t want to talk to me, there was nothing I could do to make her.

“Okay. You win. There’s nothing I can say to make you talk or give me a chance to explain. The truth is that I don’t deserve it, anyway. I fucked up two years ago. Hell, two years, four months, two weeks, and three days ago. I know, because there hasn’t been a day that I haven’t thought about you. And I know that doesn’t count for anything, that it’s all just bullshit, but, Rachel, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to just have a simple conversation with you. I’ve missed you so damn much.”