It’s like I’ve been transported into some Twilight Zone episode. That’s what this entire conversation with Michael has been like. I’ve never dealt with men much. I’ve had one steady boyfriend and then…Blade. I think it’s safe to say my experience in dealing with the opposite sex is limited and not good. The last thing I expect though is for Michael to kiss me.

At first, I’m too shocked to do anything. His beard scratches against my skin and tickles my nose. I hold myself still, it’s not that great of a feat, because I’m shell-shocked. My eyes are wide open and they must be huge with surprise. Michael’s arm is tight around me. His palm is spread out on my back, and I can feel each finger pressing into me with a bruising force. I’m thinking any minute he’ll back away and this will be over. We can awkwardly laugh it off and go to our respective corners. I’m waiting for that to happen. Any minute now…any second—

And then it happens.

I feel Michael’s tongue sweep against my lips, seeking entry. I don’t let him, of course. That would be insanity. This needs to have never happened. It can’t happen! Then, his free hand moves to my breast. There has been one side effect with pregnancy that has driven me insane. I want sex. I want sex all the time. Even with the early morning sickness, and my stomach starting to pooch out, I still craved sex. I’ve went through packages and packages of batteries for my vibrator, because after my experience with Blade there was no way I wanted another man around me. My brain is screaming that now. The traitorous lower half of my body is screaming that Michael isn’t just another man. He’s Michael. I like him.

Nerves assault me. Fear hits me. Before they completely take hold his thumb brushes across my nipple. A surge of heat pulses through me. Familiar, yet shockingly different. I’ve felt excitement for a man before. I’ve felt what I thought was desire, but this…this is different. It’s sharper, it’s more intense. I tighten my body up, and my hands brace against him to push away.

“No,” I whisper, and he pulls back. His eyes rake over me and I hate it, because I know he can read the fear there. The fear that I can’t push away. “We shouldn’t do this. I don’t want this,” I tell him, wondering if he will believe me, because I’m not sure I do.

“I think you do,” he says, and his voice is different…it’s gruffer, but it seems to vibrate—through me.

“Michael, I can’t do this,” I whisper guiltily.

“You’re scared,” he says, and I can’t even deny it. “Keep your eyes open, so you know it’s me,” he demands and his words confuse me. How could I not know it was him?

“Michael—”

“Trust me, Beauty,” he whispers, his voice dipping down, and my stomach feels like a thousand butterflies pick that moment to take flight. I gasp when I feel his palm slide against my neck. His skin is rough and callused yet gentle. His thumb strokes against the pulse point in my neck and when his lips brush against mine, I don’t think of denying him this time. I’ve never kissed a man with a beard before, it adds a new sensation, but more than that, Michael’s lips are full, soft, and completely at odds with the surly exterior and personality he usually displays.

He doesn’t even kiss me like I expected. Instead, it’s a soft touch, a smooth, sweet glide of our lips. It’s merely a teasing touch and then he pulls away, a mere breath, before coming back. He does this a few times, and it’s almost as if he’s hypnotizing me with his movements, luring me with them, because each time he breaks away, I find myself following him.

Then it happens. This time as his lips tenderly touch mine, his tongue sneaks into my mouth. It doesn’t go far, it’s not even assertive. It slides in and teases against the inside of my lip, moves against my cheek, before going back out. I miss its presence immediately.

I could taste him.

Minty, fresh, musky and…naughty.

That feeling that you’re doing something you shouldn’t, but it’s so good you can’t stop.

Seductive.

I lose myself in his taste, and when his tongue comes back for a second round, I seek it. Our tongues wrap around each other, carefully at first as if neither of us are sure what we’re doing, and then again, with more intensity. I think I moan, maybe it was him, because all at once the kiss changes from a shy, gentle exchange into something else. Something different from anything I’ve ever experienced before.

My hands bite into his shirt, and I hold on for dear life, because I can feel the heat surround us.

Passion.

I’ve been so stupid. My whole life I’ve been stupid, because it’s suddenly crystal clear that until this moment, I’ve never truly felt real desire. As many times as I’ve kissed and been kissed, I’ve never felt like this before. I might have thought I had good kisses before. I might have even thought I had a connection with the person I was kissing. I was wrong. I’ve never been kissed this way before, until him.

Michael owns my mouth, but with that same thought, I’m pretty sure I own his. It’s as if we’re fighting a war to see who can claim victory. When he lets out a half-muted growl and I swallow it down, I feel like I am the clear winner. I feel as if I’m in control.

As if that’s the signal they needed, my fingers move up to tangle into his thick hair. Michael’s hands move down to my ass, biting into the flesh as he pulls me up his body. I break away from his mouth, as my feet leave the floor. When he pulls me up to him, he claims my mouth again, and he kisses me deeper. I wrap my legs around his waist, our tongues continuing their war with one another, my fingers fisting tightly in his hair, holding him to me.

I can feel desire course through my body. I’m not acting on anything but need and instinct, lost completely in the taste and feel of Michael. He pulls me even tighter into him, and the heat from his body is so hot, it feels as if it could burn me. I’m wet with desire. I feel it pooling against my panties, and coating along the inside of my thighs. I want more…I want more of Michael. I’m lost in a fantasy where I can be a woman who doesn’t have baggage, who doesn’t have scars. A woman who can just enjoy the moment. And then it happens.

Maggie picks that moment to push out hard. Her kick pushes against Michael. I pull away from his mouth immediately—it’s that strong. She kicks again, and this time, Michael must feel it because he pulls on my ass, giving us a little distance between each other. I hold my head down, afraid to look at him and feeling helplessly embarrassed. Then I remember, I’m pregnant, and he’s holding me up in the air.

I immediately unlock my legs, and he lowers me to the ground. I don’t know what to say to him. I’ve never experienced a kiss like that before in my life. I can still taste him. I’m already missing him and the connection we had forged. He moves his hand back to my neck and forces me to look up at him.

“That shouldn’t have happened,” I croak, my voice sounding as if I haven’t had anything to drink in weeks.

“You’re right,” he says, and disappointment blankets over me like a thick fog. Before I can even process that, he’s places a kiss on my forehead and turns to leave.

I’m so confused and my hormones are raging. I don’t know up from down right now, and the fact that he’s leaving only adds to that. I don’t try to stop him, though. It’s best he leaves. It’s best I get control of myself—alone.

“It definitely shouldn’t have happened,” he says again, as he opens the door. My fingers are touching my lips. I can still feel his pressed against mine. My body still feels like sparks of electricity is arcing through it. “It’s probably going to happen again, though,” he growls as he leaves, closing the door behind him.

I just stand there. I couldn’t tell you for how long. A few minutes, maybe longer, I keep standing there, touching my lips and staring at a closed door. All the time, in my head, I’m trying to figure out how I feel about Michael’s declaration, because only one thing is sure about all of it. Michael didn’t sound happy about it at all.