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“But you have your suspicions?” Sterling raises an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a smirk. “And you’re not going to share them yet.”

He leans forward and my heart skips a beat when he kisses my forehead and says, “Clever boy.”

My cheeks flush but I can’t dwell on it, my stomach sinking at the thought of what having something like this, something unknown, on my beach could mean. The unwanted attention it would attract.

“We can’t tell anyone,” I say, urgency in my voice as I look to Sterling for an answer.

“Of course not. I will keep them safe, I promise, Caspian.”

And I believe him because he has given me no reason not to. We’ve been enjoying long walks after work every evening, and while he never talks much about himself, he’s warm and kind and attentive, and I’ve found myself growing incredibly attached.

“Thank you.” I reach out my hand and Sterling slides his palm into mine, giving me a squeeze. “Ready for our walk?”

It’s unfair that he hasn’t broken a sweat and still looks perfectly composed and unbearably handsome, while I’m over here gasping for breath, the skin on my back damp and tacky and my hair plastered to my face.

“Okay there, sweet Caspian?” Sterling holds out a bottle of water and I take it, swallowing huge gulps.

“I’m good.” I blow out a breath then sit down on an upturned log. “Didn’t realise I was so unfit.”

“This was more of a hike than a walk,” he says with a grin, moving to stand between my legs.

“True.” I take another sip of water. “But it’ll be worth it.”

Sterling runs a hand through my sweaty hair. “It already is.” I peer up at him, my eyes connecting with his. They’re darker than usual, sparkling with hints of a bright green that I still find so unusual. And so fucking beautiful.

The air hums, alive with wildlife and the attraction growing between us. My heart races, my already hot body rising in temperature.

Sterling doesn’t take his hand out of my hair, but does tighten his grip to inch my head further back, my neck straining. He crouches down, bringing his nose to the exposed skin and I still, holding my breath, my heart trying to escape as he sniffs me, then presses his lips to my racing pulse.

It lasts all of a second before he’s pulling back, leaving me both breathless and speechless.

His hand moves from my hair, hovering it over the side of my neck.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” he asks.

“Yes.” Sterling’s hand settles firmly on my neck, and my eyelids flutter closed for the briefest moment. His skin is rough but warm, and I lean into him. His eyes, framed by long, dark lashes, dip to my lips.

“I know you saw me panic at the bakery the other day. When that guy put his hands on me.”

A growling noise rumbles from Sterling’s chest at the mention. “He shouldn’t have dared.” His hand flexes on my neck, fingers coming around to the base of my throat.

“No, he shouldn’t have. Apart from being unwelcome, it was the touch itself that unsettled me.” I bite my lip, thinking how to best to explain it to him. After a moment, I say, “I’m particular about being touched, especially by strangers.” Sterling loosens his grip and pulls his hand away, but I’m quick to grab it and place it back on my neck.

“I like it there,” I admit. “It feels good.” He squeezes and I smile, lifting a hand to trace a finger over the lines of his knuckle.

“I like firm contact, tight hugs and soft clothing. There’s a lot I don’t like, too, but I’m sure you don’t want the whole list.” I make an attempt at a joke, but neither of us laughs. Sterling tilts his head, waiting me out, giving me space to continue. He holds silence in a way that makes me want to fill it, not to break it, but because it feels safe.

“My parents don’t understand me. It’s partly why we don’t get along. They could never accept that my aversion to touch, and noise and textures, was anything but me being difficult. But it’s not. I’ve never seen a doctor about it, but the wise world of the internet has thrown enough labels my way that I have an idea of what it is – this thing that makes me different.”

Sterling’s gaze locks onto me, his greens fiery and intense. “We are all different. The world would be boring otherwise. There’s nothing wrong with you, Caspian. You are not too difficult. Or too much. Or any of those things your parents think about you.” My eyes burn and I have to blink them a few times to stop tears from building. How I have craved to hear that from my parents, but never have. “You are very perfect. And very pleasing.”

I can’t help it – I laugh, a weight lifting off my chest.

“You called my scones pleasing.”

“Ah yes, but you are more pleasing than scones.” Sterling presses his lips to the area beneath my ear then rubs his nose over the same spot. “Much more pleasing.”

Heat rushes to my groin.