Where is the panic and fear I feel around people—around men? Why don't I feel that with Michael? Why don't I feel it right now when he's standing in front of me with his face bending down to kiss me? Why, when I'm standing in front of him half-naked, am I not screaming for the door? Why am I not only looking forward to his kiss, but craving it?

I do nothing but sigh with relief when Michael's lips finally touch mine. If I want to be completely honest with myself, I'm ridiculously eager for his kiss. I think it's my tongue who seeks his out first. If I want to get even more brutally honest, since the first kiss we shared I've wanted more. The moment our lips touch, our tongues tangle, a spark of electricity goes off, and heat spreads through my body. In its wake, there is nothing but need. A desperate need to be closer to him. My hands go up to tangle into his long hair, pulling his mouth tighter against mine, afraid he will pull away. I think of nothing else other than losing myself in the nearness and warmth of Michael while drowning in the taste of him. I don't even notice when the towel I was hiding my body behind, falls to the ground.

I feel Michael's arms wrap around me. I don't have a lot of experience with men. The two that I've trusted, their touch has been extremely different from Michael's. Their skin was soft, and felt good against mine…I guess. I never really thought about it. It never failed though, their touch always turned rough, demanding even, and I never liked it once that happened. Michael is completely different. His touch is rough, and almost scratchy, like a loofah against my skin. Yet his hold is gentle, almost what I'd imagine caring felt like. Even when his kiss gets demanding, never—not once, does that translate into him hurting me. He makes me feel…precious. That's somehow just as addictive as his kiss.

We break apart, both of us breathing roughly. I worry about what I will see in his eyes. Disappointment? Anger? Regret? Any of those are possible. Slowly, I open my eyes, hating that I am trying to be a coward. Michael's dark, almost obsidian eyes are staring down at me, but the only thing I can see in them is the same thing that is raging through my body. Hunger. He wants me. The knowledge lands inside of me and it should repulse me. What it shouldn't do is make me so wet that I can feel my desire painted against the inside of my thighs. I need to be the voice of reason here. I have to be.

"I love your lips, Hayden," he says in his voice that I've come to liken to a mixture of whiskey and cigarettes. It's nothing sweet; it’s wicked, dirty, and completely masculine.

I don't know if anyone has ever told me that they love anything about me, especially my lips. I like that Michael does. I like it a lot. I take a half-step away from him, that's as much room as he's given me. My fingers come up to touch my lips as I look up at this giant of a man who wreaks havoc on my body and my emotions.

"I like yours too, even though I shouldn't," I tell him, not recognizing my own voice.

"Why shouldn't you," he asks, and I try to concentrate on his words, but his hands have moved down to my hips and his thumb is brushing back and forth on my hipbone. I can feel my eyelids get heavy as I enjoy the sensation. I have to shake myself to pay attention to him.

"I told you, I'm trouble. I don't want you to get hurt because of me."

"You want to protect me?" he asks softly, and when his voice drops down this quiet, it calls to every feminine thing inside of me, sending a million butterfly wings fluttering in my stomach.

"Michael," I sigh, not sure how to continue, or even why.

"Answer me, Beauty," he says in that same tone, but the added nickname makes my heart stutter with happiness while the rest of me drowns in sadness. I can't have Michael. Yesterday made it abundantly clear that my past will prevent me from having anything or anyone. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I've even begun making a contingency plan that chills me to the bone. It will destroy me, but it will be what is best for Maggie and that's all that matters.

"I need to protect you and Maggie…or at least try," I tell him honestly, hating the distress I hear in my voice.

"Sweet Hayden, you are a mystery," he says, confusing me further. I have no idea what he means and I'm too confused to try and sort it out. He takes one of his hands and moves it up my stomach. That should bother me. It doesn't, and instead, I look down and watch as he stretches his hand out so the palm is flat as he caresses my stomach.

For some reason, I can feel moisture gather in my eyes. The sight of this scarred hand with ink covering it completely, gently moving against my stomach so tenderly, triggers every emotion I have inside me. I'd like to say it was sexual, that would be easier to dismiss, but it's not true. Right now, as I watch the way his hand is gently moving, and feel Maggie moving inside of me against it…It feels almost like he's loving on her. Like he's showing her that somewhere out in this cold world there's another person besides her mother that cares for her, that could love her.

Oh God! Just the thought of that makes me feel raw inside. I don't know how to deal with it. I look back to his face, needing to break the spell, needing to not read too much into his touch, and most of all, needing to get back into reality. The only problem is that when I look in his eyes, that doesn't happen. Because, before he even speaks, I see it. I see it as clearly as if he spoke it aloud.

When he opens his mouth, I push my fingers against those tempting lips to stop the words. I need to stop them, because this man may just be the one person in the world who can completely destroy me. Others have tried it, and though they've made me damaged, they haven't been able to break me. Michael could do it easily, and that knowledge is chilling. I press my fingers harder against his lips, his beard tickling against the skin goes unnoticed.

"It's not your job to protect me, sweet Hayden. It's mine to protect you and Maggie, and I will. I'll always protect you," he vows.

It is a vow. A vow that kills me, because I can't let him take on that responsibility. A vow that destroys me, because I wish I could turn back time and fix my past so that Michael could be my future. I wish I could go back and give Maggie this man as a father. This is the kind of man she should know exists in the world. I can't do any of that. I've made so many mistakes, and I thought I had paid enough for them, but it's clear that I haven't, because right now, I'm caught in Hell on earth. I am a woman who has everything she has always wanted standing in front of her, and I can't keep it. With that thought, I can feel the salty wetness hit my lips as the tears run from my eyes.