It was still so hard to hear it. That he cared about her, that he loved her, when he didn't even really know her. She didn't know herself; how could Bucky Barnes know her?! Natasha dropped her head, eyes closed against the idyllic scenery. She could grant the man a healthy sex drive - it wasn't the fact that they'd had sex that bothered her so much, because honestly, it'd been the most amazing thing she'd ever in her life experienced - but the fact that he so quickly tumbled head over heels for her, by his own admission.

"...I know," she finally whispered, not lifting her head. When she did, it was to again stare out over the crashing waves, pounding angry against the wet sand. She bit at her lower lip. "...and...and I'm sorry, James. That I can't return any of it." The wind whipped at her ponytail; she absently pushed it away, voice falling to a rough whisper. "...I just can't. ...and you deserve so much better than me..."