Haley West's statement is like a front kick to the gut. "I don't."

"You have been the only person to see who I am. You've never looked at me as a Young. You've never looked at me as a free ride. You have always seen me-the good and the bad."

West slides his fingers into my hair and rubs the strands between his thumb and forefinger before letting it fall back to my shoulder. "But whenever we're close, I see Matt's ghost in your eyes. When we fight, sometimes I don't think it's me you're fighting against. I love you, Haley, but I'm not willing to share you, even with a memory."

My eyes flash to his and I see the honest ache telling me how much speaking the truth costs him. West isn't Matt. I know this. West and Matt could never be sorted into the same category. West: refined in his own bad boy way and smoldering blue eyes that whisper his secret thoughts, both the heartwarming emotional and the blush-inducing erotic.

But it's more than that. The emotions growing inside me... It's more than the warmth, the constant flutters, the excitement of meeting his gaze from across the room. It's more than a crush. The longer I'm with West, the more I realize that's exactly what it was between me and Matt. I crushed on Matt...hard...because if it was love, he wouldn't have treated me like he did.

"Maybe we're doing this backwards," says West with a crazy gleam in his eye.

"How's that?" Because this all feels rather hopeless.

"The only way to get rid of a ghost is to exorcize it."

"Exorcize it?"

"Yeah." West brushes his thumb against my knee and I watch the muscles in his arms ripple as he moves. "Fill you up with memories of me so there's no room left for him."

I wrap my arms around my waist, trying desperately to disappear. "What if it's not the memories that frighten me?"

"Then what scares you?"

"What if I'm not terrified of you or him?" I swallow, unsure if I have the courage to say the words. "What if I'm terrified of me?"

His nonresponse confirms there's no hope-none at all. Then my skin p.r.i.c.kles with the light caress of fingers against my cheek. West urges me to lift my chin and it's hard when the weight of his silence crashes on my shoulders.

"Then I'll teach you how to fight the fear."

"Teach me?"

"Teach you. First you've got to trust me."

West's fingers linger on my skin and I tilt my head toward the pleasing tickle. "I trust you."

"Some," he says. "But not all the way. When things get rough, you lock yourself in your head...resort to where you feel safest. Let me in, Haley. Let me bear some of your load."

I know what he's talking about...that smothering feeling when things grow too complicated. Those moments when I would have turned to my father or my brother, but then everything became lost and I had to learn how to depend on me. "How?"

"Start by talking to me." West edges onto the bed near the pillows and offers me his hand. Tension thickens the air and I have to work harder to breathe. This is it; I either trust West or I don't. I either tap out or fight.

My hand inches for his, a battle between falling and leaping. I'm choosing this-I'm choosing West. It's like stepping out of a two-dimensional universe and walking into another when my fingers meet his and he draws me up along beside him. Colors seem richer, smells stronger. West snakes his thumb underneath my shirt and heat builds between our skin.

"Talk to me," he says again. "Uncensored."

I suck in air and I'm immersed in West's heady scent. "What do I talk about?"

"You can admit I go too fast, but at the same time you don't want to stop." West slides his hand along the curve of my waist, then slips one fingertip past the fabric of my jeans near my hip. Electricity jolts my body and I move with the thrilling shock. While I love the sensation, it also terrifies me.

"Nope. Gotta say it, not think it."

"I like kissing you." More than like. I love it. I crave it. I dream of it at night and wake up frustrated when I find myself alone in a cold bed.

West sinks lower and skims his hand along my thigh. "Just the kissing? You're not a fan of this?" And he mimics the delicious movement.

I melt into him. "I'm a fan."

West leans down, his breath hot on my ear. "And this?"

Superb, divine goose b.u.mps. "Superfan."

"And the kisses along your neck?" he murmurs.

I wiggle against him, wishing he would. "Love those."

His hands snake around me and his strong palms glide along my spine while he blows warm air along my neck. I turn my head, exposing more of the skin there, silently begging.

"What do you want? No more staying locked inside your head. You have to tell me."

"Kiss me."

West's lips connect with my skin behind my ear and I go weak with the teasing pleasure.

"More?" he whispers.

I nod with the frequency of my rapid heartbeats, then remember he'll wait until I say the words. "More." He immediately rewards me by parting his lips and kissing the same spot again.

My breathing hitches when West flips us and lays me down on the bedspread. Air rushes out of the fluffy blanket and my hair spills all around. West hovers over me, our bodies not quite touching. His knee rests between my legs.

My hand shakes as I stroke the smooth skin of his face. West is beautiful with his blue eyes and golden-blond hair. My fingers explore down his shoulder, along his arm. He's always been strong, but with the training his muscles have become powerful, refined. Greedy, I yearn to admire the results.

Bolder than I have ever been, I ignore the redness forming on my face and tug at the hem of his shirt-a nonverbal West happily agrees to. With his shirt up and over his head, I trail a path along the plane of his chest and stomach; tracing the well-defined lines.

West closes his eyes as if my touch affects and seduces him. My pulse thuds to the point my frame quakes. I know what I want and the courage to say it evades me until West brings my hand to his mouth. His lips press against my palm and I rush out the words, "I dream of you at night. Of this."

"Me, too." He releases my hand and I draw forward, holding my arms in the air. West grasps the hem of my shirt and he slowly edges the material up while leaving hot, lingering kisses along my stomach, between my b.r.e.a.s.t.s and onto my neck. West's body is blazing and what I love is the thump of his heart against my skin.

"I love you," he says.

Nervous adrenaline creeps into my bloodstream. I love him. I do. I love his strength, his tenacity, his loyalty and even his impulsiveness. But I'm frightened how those three words said aloud will change everything.

With his body blanketing mine, our hearts in tune with each other, the emotion I've been fighting overpowers me and I've never liked the feeling of losing control. My lip trembles as a hot tear escapes and streams down my cheek.

West catches it with a kiss. "We're strong together, Haley. Stronger than we are apart."

"I don't feel strong," I whisper.

"Then I'll be strong enough for both of us."

My fingers dig into his shoulders and I cling to him. "I love you."

West captures my lips and the intensity of the embrace unravels all train of thought. Our hands are everywhere: touching, exploring. His on my body. Mine on his. A strap of my bra down, then another.

We roll and his hands are tight in my hair, our tongues slide urgently against the other, and, as I hook a leg around his, we roll again and my body arches with the way we fit.

Hands wander lower and with warmth spreading everywhere I whisper his name-one time, then another-and with a few more touches he whispers mine. West's fingers pause on the b.u.t.ton of my jeans and we both snap open our eyes.

Our breaths come out in gasps. "I want you to be my first. This means something-making love means something. It's why I haven't done it before. I've been waiting for you."

I lick my lips and nod, wanting to know what it's like to be with someone who loves me and I love in return. My lips brush against his and West slips the b.u.t.ton through the hole and the unzipping of my jeans becomes the only noise in the room.

Silence as we stare at one another. My jeans are unzipped. We can go forward or we can go back, and even though I'm scared as h.e.l.l, I don't want to go back.

My fingers find his jeans and West's grace eludes me. A metal b.u.t.ton through an open s.p.a.ce of material. It should be easy, simple, uncomplicated, but my fingers fumble. One time. A second time. With the third, I feel an indention of the b.u.t.ton forming on the tip of my finger.

West lays his hands over mine and I close my eyes, wishing I'd die. He doesn't push me away. Instead he guides my fingers in a fluid and effortless flick and his zipper crackles.

I swear to G.o.d my heart can't beat any faster.

With my bra and jeans half off, I flounder with the blanket beneath me.

"Are you cold?" he asks.

Nope. Not at all. In fact, I'm burning up, but being naked is intimidating. I guess I'm more experienced, but really...I'm not. "Do you mind?"

He shakes his head and under the covers we shed the last of our clothes. We lie on our sides, facing each other, and West runs his hand along the curve of my body. He unashamedly looks through the gap, seeing more of me than anyone else has. "You're beautiful."

My mouth slants up and West gathers me to him. We lie there for a while, enjoying the warmth and the new feeling of being next to each other. I steal a few glances at West and I know he knows that I'm satisfying curiosity by peeking, but still...it's weird and exhilarating.

"Can we... Can you turn the lights off?" Because while West is stunning, there's an intimacy I'd prefer in the dark.

The kindness in his eyes almost removes the sting of the blush on my cheeks. He turns off the television, shifts off the bed, and I bite my lip as I watch his bare b.u.t.t and the way the muscles in his shoulders move as he crosses the room.

With a flip of a switch, blackness envelops the room and it takes a second for my eyes to readjust. Little lights glimmer from his a.s.sorted electronics, and from the glow of the cracked-open bathroom, I can see just enough. West's feet pad against the carpet back to me. The bed dips and his heat reaches me before his body.

We're slow in returning to the edginess-the rawness that causes me to forget I'm naked and West is naked and that we're sharing something so intimate, so intense...

West breaks away and mutters a curse. Cold air slaps my body and panic tenses my muscles. I replay the past few seconds, searching for what I did wrong. "What is it?"

He falls back to his pillow and I tuck the sheet over my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "West?"

"I don't have a condom."

I blink. He doesn't have a... "But I thought all guys..." Guess they don't.

He rubs his eyes. "I told you. I don't have s.e.x."

"Oh." Giddiness invades my voice. "So you still want me?"

West peers at me out of the corner of his eye and motions downward. "Obviously."

I nervously giggle, then stop, feeling relieved and somewhat...frustrated. Like waking up from a dream of kissing West and not finding him in my bed. "I won't do it without one."

"Neither will I." He rolls to a sitting position and grabs his jeans. "Then we'll get one."

I don't know why, but that freaks me out. I reach out and s.n.a.t.c.h his hand. "Stay."

"But-"

I squeeze his fingers. "Stay. We can do...other...things... Just stay. I don't want to go to a store and pick it out because then it's not...the moment...this moment..."

West is silent for a bit, then nods. "Okay."

I breathe out a sigh. "Okay."

He slides back beside me and kisses my lips. "But I'm buying some."

"All right." I lose my breath again as his hands resume their exploration.

"I mean it," he says.

"I one hundred percent believe you." And with a few more touches we become lost.

There's a building of sensation and all the emotion drives it to an inferno. Our bodies weave into an intricate web and, if given the option, I don't want to escape. I grab hold tighter and so does West. We gasp and then the entire world fades away, leaving only us.

We collapse into each other; muscles weak and minds drifting. Our arms and legs are tangled and West tucks me into his body. One arm draped protectively over me. My cheek rests against his chest and his heart beats steadily in my ear. I love him. I do.

West kisses the top of my head as his hands trace meaningless patterns on my back. "I love you, Haley," he whispers. "I love you."

West I stare at the report card I received in first period. No matter how many times I unfold it, the letters never alter: solid Bs. The smile, once again, spreads across my face regardless of the anger that's been simmering inside me since Sat.u.r.day night.

The bell rings for lunch and Haley stands. She tosses her light brown hair over her shoulder and, for a few seconds, I'm back in bed with her and I swear I feel that silky hair sliding against my bare chest.

"You're going to rub the ink off. Then no one's going to believe you," she says.

I refold the paper and slip it into my notebook. Haley's met my demons, grades included, and loves me anyhow. Her arm swings next to mine as we maneuver through the crowded hallway to lunch. I enjoy the satisfied tilt of her lips when my hand connects with hers. It's Monday. Sat.u.r.day night changed everything for us-it made us better, made us stronger.

"It's amazing what happens when you study," she teases again.

"Or attend cla.s.s." This afternoon I'm nailing my report card to the door of Dad's office.

"I was thinking we should skip lunch today." Haley flutters her eyelashes and her s.e.xy expression almost blows me off course. Almost.

"I'm hungry."

She squishes her lips together. "I've got some pretzels in my backpack."

"I'm really hungry."