But getting on the water . . . Yes, she’d been onboard with him before, but that had been . . . different. For one thing, they hadn’t actually been moving; they’d been tied up to the dock. It had taken several mind tricks to allow herself to be okay, although once Cam’s hands and mouth and body had gotten on her, she’d forgotten they’d been on a boat at all.

But at the moment, she was in the middle of a pity party for one, thank you very much, and she wasn’t ready to be over it.

Ahead of her, Cam untied the boat with quick, practiced ease, and she took a moment to appreciate the way he moved because she wasn’t dead. But then, holding the rope in one hand, he held out his other for her.

She shook her head.

He was smart enough not to rush her. And she knew he’d never make her do anything she didn’t want to. Nope, his tactic was even worse.

He waited for her to come to him.

Welp, he was about to wait until hell froze over. She clutched her journal close and shook her head again.

“What if your future niece or nephew fears the water like you do. Wouldn’t you want to help them get past it?” he asked.

“Wow. You fight dirty.”

“I do a lot of things dirty.”

She felt a hot flash rush through her. “You’re trying to distract me.”

“Yes. Is it working?”

“No.”

“Piper, I’ve got you,” he repeated.

Said the spider to the fly.

With a huff of air, she walked toward him, stopping several feet from where he waited with what looked to be all the patience in the world. “Do you just command the bad guys to hand themselves over to you too?”

His lips twitched. “Yes, but it doesn’t usually take this long for them to do it.” He wriggled his fingers.

She stared at his hand. It was strong. Calloused. And, she knew from experience, all warm and extremely talented.

“Trust me.” He flashed a smile. “You know you want to.”

Hoping she wasn’t going to regret this, she put her hand in his.

He didn’t pull or in any way suggest that he wanted to direct her movements. He was being sweet and gentle. She met his gaze, half touched at his tolerance, half irritated as shit that she was feeling the urge to please him. “I really don’t want to board.”

“Because the last time you were on a boat was so . . . unenjoyable?”

She felt her face heat, but she lifted her chin and hoped he never got a peek at her latest journal entry where she’d listed the ways he’d melted her bones. In great detail. “It was . . . okay.”

He laughed, and the sight was so unusual and so amazing, she stared at him. Damn, he had a really great laugh.