I hate when he refers to his scars. I’ve seen the look on his face when I touch them. I know they bother him, and even if he doesn’t want to admit it, they make him feel less somehow. I hate that for him, because if there’s one thing I know, it’s that I’ve met men who are “less” of everything and Michael could never be one of them—not inside where it counts the most, not in the very make-up of being a man and definitely not in the way that he looks. Michael is physically beautiful, the scars do nothing to distract from that, at least not in my eyes. The only one that I wish would disappear is the long one on the right side of his face. Not because it hurts me to look at it, but because I know that it hurt him. It left its mark so deeply on him that he grew his hair long, his beard longer still, all with the hope of hiding its viciousness.

“I think you’re beautiful,” I tell him honestly when we break apart. My eyes are trapped by his, nervousness bubbles up in my stomach, and I let my hand hold his tight, keeping us joined, because his strength gives me courage.

“Hayden—”

“And inside, Michael,” I interrupt him, letting my free hand move down his neck to his chest, keeping it over his heart. I can feel the steady beat thumping under my hand. Strong. Brave. Trustworthy. “Inside, you’re the kind of man they write fairytales about.” Even as I’m saying the words, I know I shouldn’t. I feel his body tense underneath me, and I can feel the change in his attitude.

“I’m no Prince Charming, Hayden. I’m no hero to save the day. I’m not capable of that, trust me. Fuck, even now I’m in your bed instead of trying to make sure you’re okay because of the day you’ve had. Instead of trying to help you grieve over what Charlie is going through…all I’m thinking about is spreading your legs and fucking you so hard we both forget everything. Fucking you so hard our brains stop working and the only thoughts either of us have is how deep my dick can get inside of you.”

“There’s…I mean those men outside—”

“I don’t even give a fuck about them. I hope they hear us. Christ, Hayden I’m already hard thinking about burying myself between your legs and the idea of them hearing you scream for my dick, just makes me harder. Do you get that? Do you get that I’m not some knight in shining armor? I’m a fucking scarred animal who wants to fuck you raw and hard while wanting everyone to hear it. I want them to know that you let the monster between your thighs and that you’re fucking enjoying it.”

“Michael—” I start, his words shocking me. Yet, as I hear them and look in his face as he says them I’d be lying if I didn’t admit they turn me on. A lot. His words are carnal, dirty, wicked, and filled with desire. His desire for me is there, easy to read on his face. He wants me and he doesn’t care about my past, or anything…he just wants…me. I don’t understand it. I’ve never been the kind of woman to elicit that reaction from a man. Never.

“You don’t care that they would know you’re with me…Michael I’m preg—”

“And I don’t even fucking care about that, Hayden. I still want to take you like a fucking animal. I want to roll you over, pull you up on your hands and knees, and thrust inside of you with my hands full of your ass. There’s nothing sweet about me. I’m nothing you should ever want in your bed, Hayden. You’d do better to stay the fuck away from me.”

There’s so many emotions swirling through Michael right now. The force of them is so strong they are almost physical. I can’t sort through them, and I’m not sure how each would make me feel right now. What I do know is what his words are doing to me and how the thought of him wanting me makes me feel. Maybe the smart thing would be to back away and leave. No one has accused me of being smart in life. Right now, however, what I’m about to do seems like the smartest thing I’ve ever done in my life.

I stand up and I’m pretty sure that Michael thinks I’m going to leave. It’s then I realize that he was trying to scare me away. I nervously slide my fingers around the waist band of my pajamas, hooking my panties too. Then, I push them down my legs. I’m blushing. I can’t watch Michael as I do it. I leave my shirt on. It’s long enough to hide my own scars. I know I’ll have to eventually tell him about them, and maybe soon if he doesn’t back out from this. Still, right now, the only thing I want to concentrate on is being with Michael…on feeling like a woman…a beautiful woman…Michael’s woman.

I hear the mattress squeak as he shifts, however. Involuntarily, I peek up at him and he’s sitting in the bed. I see shock on his face, but it’s overshadowed by the hunger there. Hunger for me. A quiver of want runs through my body, leaving me achy and greedy in its wake.

Leaving me wet…