My heart clenches. You're like an overeager puppy, jumping up and getting smacked back down when all you want is to be petted, cuddled, and loved.

You suck air in through your teeth rubbing your fingers through your hair vigorously. "Whatever. I'm done looking for that recipe. I'll be downstairs." You move to stand, but I grab your arm.

"Don't." I lean in and run my thumb across your cheek. "Don't run away when you should stay and talk to me."

Leaning back again, you turn and pull me against you. "Let's not talk."

Your lips meet mine, but I pull away and put my hand over your mouth. "Talk, don't kiss. It seems to me like you don't think things through before you act."

You let out a sharp laugh against my fingers, and I lower them. "I think them through. I just never come to the right conclusion. Like with you. I figured I'd get you down here and you'd be so blown away by my gesture that my impromptu, stupid plan would instantly be forgotten. I was wrong."

"How could you think that? How would you feel being drugged and taken away?"

You hold me tighter, afraid I might bolt away like the other night when our dinner turned into something way, way out of my control. "I didn't care how I would feel. I only thought about what you would feel if I gave all of this to you."

My shoulders sag. You don't get it. "You can't know what someone else is going to think or feel, Merrick. You have to put yourself in their position. That's the only way to judge how your words and actions are going to go over with someone else."

Your eyes look so tired, like the weight of the world rests inside you, like you've been over and over our situation and all of your failed relationships a million times and can't figure out the puzzle.

"What if I didn't want to come here?" I say, running my finger along your jaw to your ear. "What if I wanted to stay with my mom to make sure she's okay? What if I had an interview or actually cared about my internship?"

"But I took care of all of that. Your mom is happy, and she's not alone. I don't care if you had an interview because you belong here and you know it-don't tell me you don't because you already told me you do. We're going in circles, Rachael. Just let this go and forgive me. Please."

I can't resist the desperate pleading in your voice. I lean my forehead against yours. "I'm trying to forgive you."

You press me against your chest hugging me tight. "Good," you whisper in my ear. "Thank you." Your warm, soft lips find my neck and work down to my shoulder. It's intoxicating. You trail kisses down my arm and take my hand to kiss each fingertip. Fire burns behind your dark eyes. "Let's try this again," you say, pulling me down on the couch on top of you.

I sink into your lips before clearing my mind of the haze of desire and pushing myself up on your chest. "No. I'm trying, but I'm not ready for this." I get to my knees, but you hold on to my wrists and won't let me stand.

"You are ready for this. You want it as much as I do." Your chest is heaving, your eyes blazing. The pull between us is overwhelming.

"Are you going to whisk me into this, too? Since you know I want it. Is this something else you won't take no as an answer for?" I pull my arms free and stand, shaking, staring out the window into the bright sky.

"No." Your voice is spite, anger and pain. I close my eyes at the tone.

"I do want you. So, so bad. I can't let go though. I can't get past the barrier you shoved between us when you took all of my control away. I can't be that vulnerable again, especially not by choice. Not to you."

You shift on the couch then you're standing behind me. Your hand is in my hair, stroking and twisting down the back. "I'd never hurt you, Rachael. Never. If you gave yourself to me, it would be so good. It would be amazing."

"I know," I whisper. I can't stop shaking. I need you. I want you. I can't let myself have you.

"What can I do to fix this?" Your chest presses against my back. Your hands fall to my hips. You nuzzle your nose up and down the back of my head.

"You can't fix this."

Your hands squeeze and knead my hips. "There has to be a way."

I let my head drop back on your shoulder. Your hands feel so good. "Be patient."

"I don't have a lot of patience when it comes to this." Your lips trace my ear. Your erection presses against my lower back.

I ache for your hands to knead my b.r.e.a.s.t.s like they are my hips, for the back-and-forth pressure of your fingers to slide lower, between my thighs. My resolve is melting away. You cup my cheek and turn my lips to yours. My body betrays me and turns into you. My hands grasp your shoulders. My fingers glide up into the soft, waves of hair at your neck.

Your lips are hot and wet. Your tongue seeks mine and slowly brushes and caresses, drawing a moan out of me into your mouth. Your hands wrap around the back of my thighs as you lift me and sit on the couch. "Rub against me." Your hips rock into mine. "Just like before."

Your hard ridge probes between my legs, urging me to thrust against it. I can't hold back. I'm burning. I want the mindless pleasure, the heated release. Your hands still grip my thighs and lift me up and down. I grind into you, desperate for the throbbing to be quenched. Our shirts ride up, and we're skin against skin. Our lips and tongues brush between pants of ecstasy.

I want more. I want you inside me. I want to let go.

"G.o.d, that sound you're making is driving me crazy." You tug my hair, urging my head back. Your lips devour my neck. I writhe from the mind-numbing sensation of your hot breath against my skin and dig my fingers into your bare abs. Your tongue leaves a scalding trail across my collarbone. "Come for me, Rachael."

"I need you." I whimper and moan. "I can't feel enough of you."

You groan and pull me even closer, spreading my legs wider. "Let me take you."

I gasp and clutch at your stomach. My palm presses against something round, soft and pulsing with heat. I lean my forehead against yours and glance down. Your erection has swollen out from under the waistband of your jeans, giving me an incredible view of your engorged head. I want to taste its smoothness against my lips.

I can't.

I want it.

I won't.

Your lips crush into mine. You're coming undone. Why am I doing this to us? You could be inside me in seconds giving us both what we need.

I can't give myself over to you. This has to be on my terms, and I don't have s.e.x without an established relationship. I barely know you, and I don't trust you.

I pull my lips away and push your shoulders back, resting my forehead against yours. "No. You have to wait until I'm ready."

Our heavy breaths come in unison. My dizzy desire ebbs, but only slightly. Your swollen tip hasn't gone back inside your pants. "Let me see you stroke yourself again."

You look up. Your dark, desperate eyes spark with intensity. "I will if you will."

I scoot down your thighs to your knees and slip my hand under my waistband. I'm crazy wet.

You pull your zipper down and ease your jeans and boxers lower, lifting your heavy b.a.l.l.s. Your erection leans forward, long and thick. You hook my waistband with a finger. "It's no fair if I can't see you." I clamber off your lap and slip my bottoms off. You lean back, wrapping your hand around yourself. "Get back on."

I perch on your knees and you spread them wide, opening my legs. "Uh, G.o.d," you growl. "What I could do to you."

"What would you do?" I run a finger down my slit with one hand and squeeze my breast with the other. Your legs tremor underneath me.

"I'd plant my face between your thighs and make you scream my name."

I lean forward and squeeze your thigh. I'm so sensitive, if I touch my c.l.i.t, I'll explode. I keep my finger running up and down, avoiding the tip to make it last. My head drops forward. You're stroking yourself right under my eyes. I lick my lips and blow on you. You gasp and jerk your hand faster, harder. I blow again.

"G.o.d, Rachael. That feels so f.u.c.king good. Let me touch you."

"No touching." I blow again, and you shudder.

You groan. "I can't take it, can't hold back. Are you ready?"

"Yes. G.o.d, yes."

You lift my chin and bore your eyes into mine. "Let go, Rachael."

With one rub of my fingertip, my body spasms and clenches. I stare into your eyes, wishing you were inside me.

You press your lips against mine, your tongue darts into my mouth as you groan and thrust one last time. I collapse against you. You hold me tight. Our chests press together, heaving to catch our breath.

"I'd rather be inside you," you say, brushing my hair out of my face, "but that was insane."

I sigh. My body trembles. You hug me and kiss my head. "I'm so relaxed."

You lay me on the couch in front of you and rest your head on my shoulder. "If not having s.e.x with you is this amazing, I can be patient." You glance up at me. "When will you let me touch you?"

My fingers trail through your hair. "I don't know."

"Are you punishing me?"

It's a serious question. "I don't know."

"If you are, I deserve it."

"Just be patient. I don't even know my own mind right now. You've completely turned my life upside down. I wasn't prepared for this."

"I'm sorry."

I lift your chin and search your eyes. "Merrick, do you need to be taken care of? Is that why you did it? Because you saw how I care of everybody-my mom, Shannon?"

Your eyes dart away. You can't look at me. "I've never been taken care of. I guess I don't need it."

"You want it. Don't you?"

"I take care of myself, no matter what I have to do. I find a way."

"You want it," I repeat. "Don't you?"

Your determined eyes find mine. "Yes. I want to be taken care of. And I want to take care of you. I've never felt that need before-to give what I have to someone else. To make them happy and care for them."

"And you do for me?" I can't understand how I brought this out in you.

"I feel a lot of things I've never felt before with you." Your eyes flit away, like you've revealed too much. "I can't help it. It's like I found someone who gets me. We're so alike, you and me."

I brush your cheek to bring your eyes back to mine. "How are we alike?" I need to understand what you see between us. I need to know if I see it, too.

"You're stubborn, like me. Driven, independent-when you allow yourself to be. That's not like me. I'm always independent." You laugh. "You see the potential in people, in places." You gesture to the room. "You have a firm hold on your emotions and refuse to let them stray. You give yourself," you kiss me, "on your terms."

I shake my head. He's absolutely right. "How can you know these things about me?"

You shift, rising up on your elbow to gaze down at me. "I didn't get where I am by not being able to read people. It doesn't take me long to get inside a person's head and know what's going on, what motivates them."

I nod. It's all clear now. "That's how you survived. After your mom pa.s.sed and your dad neglected you. You had to take what you needed-had to know what would make people give it to you."

A crease forms between your eyes. "You make me sound like a b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

I smooth the crease in your forehead. "No. You did what you had to do, for you and Heidi. I think you've given more than you realize. You took care of her, didn't you?"

You lower yourself and rest your head back on my shoulder. "We took care of each other."

We stay silent, breathing slowly, relaxing in the warmth of our bodies and drift off into sleep.

When I wake, you're sitting at the end of the couch sorting through the papers in the box on the coffee table. My calves rest on your leg. I'm still naked from the waist down, and your shirt is off. I'm guessing it was a little messy.

A golden-hued light streams in through the window. It shines behind you, gilding your profile. I sit up and stretch. It must be late afternoon. You smile and rub a hand over my head, ruffling my messy hair. "You must've been worn out."

"Guess I was." Emotionally worn out. Physically, I had a long way to go to reach worn. I slide my bottoms back on. "Still looking for that recipe?"

"I thought it was here, but I guess it's not." You toss a stack of index cards and a notebook back into the box. "I'm glad you're up. Perfect timing." You stand and pull me to my feet.

"Perfect timing for what?"

"Sunset."

"How long did I sleep?" I feel like I'm lost in some kind of time warp.

"You slept all afternoon. So did I." Your thumb rubs across the back of my hand. "I haven't slept so well in a long, long time." You slowly lean forward and kiss me. It's tender, intimate. It lingers. When our lips part, I take a deep breath, reeling. Do I want intimacy with you? I can't even accept a purely physical relationship. But I always demand the intimacy first. Nothing is only physical with me.

"I'm going to pack us a picnic." You kiss me again, quickly this time and dash out of the room.

I collapse back onto the couch and attempt to get my head together. Are you insane, or just badly misunderstood? Am I insane for wanting to be with you? One minute I'm ready to dive in with you, and the next I'm standing hesitant on the sh.o.r.e questioning everything.

Ugh, I'm making myself crazy.

I rub the heels of my hands over my eyes, and my cell phone rings. I jolt to the edge of the couch. My heart beats wildly. My wristlet, with my phone tucked inside, sits on the coffee table beside the box.

It rings again.

Do I answer it? What do I say?

A third ring.

I can't get my hands to move. What if they ask questions? When did I decide to come down here? I'm not a spur-of-the-moment kind of girl. How do I explain it? Do I tell the truth?

Fourth ring.

s.h.i.t. What do I do? My fingers clutch the collar of my t-shirt-your t-shirt. My eyes stare a hole through my wristlet.

No more ringing. The call must've gone to voicemail.