I eyed the phone.

There was a cacophony of warring voices in my head, one that argued Jake hadn't trusted me and I couldn't build a relationship with somebody like that .

Another voice scoffed. What relationship ?

But the loudest, most determined voice kept echoing Aunt Blair's voice .

"Maybe you should go after him – and make him believe you ."

Make him believe me .

How ?

I wasn't about to beg him. I'd just started to reclaim some of my pride. Begging would put me right back at the bottom again. And I shouldn't have to beg him to give me a chance to speak .

"I'm not calling him," I said to the phone .

Then I picked it up .

"Argh!" Dropping it into my purse, I turned and started to pace .

Another five minutes of waffling passed in which I convinced myself that maybe I could call him – and tell him off. Let him know he'd hurt my feelings and that I cared about him, but he just walked all over me .

Then I could hang up and see what happened .

That was about as honest as I could get .

"Okay, I'll call him." I strode back over to my purse and grabbed the phone .

I hadn't so much as swiped the home screen when my doorbell chimed, announcing a visitor. How much of a shock was it that some small sliver of relief went through me ?

I didn't know what to say to him, how to do what Aunt Blair had suggested – make him believe me .

Dropping the phone back into my purse, I went over to the speaker and pushed the button. Hopefully, it was my aunt or one of my few friends. Somebody who could distract me long enough that my subconscious would figure this Jake thing out on its own .

"Who is it ?"

"Jake."

The bottom dropped out of my stomach, and I gulped. "Um." That was all I had. Um .

A few seconds passed, then he broke the awful silence. "Can I come up? I...there are some things I need to say to you ."

I remembered the last time he had things he needed to say to me .

"I don't know if that's a good idea," I said, the words coming out in a weak voice. And here I'd been trying to work up the courage to call him, trying to pump myself up and figure out the right words to keep him on the phone long enough to get him to believe me .

And he was here now, and I was too afraid .

"Michelle...please ."

Staring at the speaker box, my hand tightening into a fist, I blinked back the tears .

Coward , I thought, but in my mind, I was shrieking it. Shrieking it and hating myself a little for not having the guts to say something big and bold like, Bet your ass you can come up...I got things to say to you too !

Abruptly, a kernel of rage exploded in me, all of it directed at myself. Why the hell couldn't I say just that? Why couldn't I let myself get angry, hurt, and upset? He had hurt me .

"Michelle?"

"Come on up ."

Shoving away from the speaker, I stormed into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of wine .

Maybe some liquid courage would help .

It seemed like it took him forever to get up to my floor, but in reality, I knew it could have only taken a few minutes. Somehow, though, I managed to both open the bottle of wine and drain the majority of my first glass before the knock came .

Leaving the bottle open and out on the counter, I carried my glass into the living room and checked the Judas hole to make certain. Then, not letting myself think about it, I opened the door .

Jake stood there, one forearm braced on the edge of the door frame. His hair was mussed, he hadn't shaved, and he looked tired .

Turning on my heel, I strode back toward the kitchen, leaving the door open for him to follow .

He did .

I couldn't hear him, but I heard the door shut quietly behind me, and when I circled around the counter, he was standing just a few feet away .

"I'm not offering you a glass," I said, surprising myself with my rudeness .

I was also surprised at how good it felt .

Tears were thick in my throat, and I tossed back the rest of the wine to flush them away. I wasn't crying. And if he was here to yell at me ...

"I understand ."

He stood there in a pair of jeans and t-shirt, looking more...normal. Usually, he was one in his slick suits, all dressed to thrill and delight the feminine senses .

Today, he looked like he'd dragged on whatever came to hand. The jeans had a rip in the right knee. The shirt was wrinkled. He wore a leather bomber jacket that looked like it had seen better decades .

"Are you here to say something?" I had to tear my eyes away from him. He was always particularly yummy, but the sight of him in a pair of ripped jeans and a t-shirt made him look...approachable. Almost like somebody who could believe me .

The idea hurt .

I shouldn't have to force the truth on anybody. I'd had to deal with that before .

"Whatever you need to say, just...say it." I poured more wine into my glass and shifted my attention to it. The pale blush liquid swirled as I gave the glass a twirl. "I'm tired ."

"I'm sorry ."

I'd been raising the glass to my lips when he said it. The words, far from what I'd been expecting, came out in a quiet, rough voice, and he watched with turbulent eyes as I slowly lowered the glass back to the counter .

"What did you just say?" I asked softly .

"I said I was sorry. I..." He blew out a breath .

One of the knots inside me might have started to untangle. It immediately jerked back into a knot, though, when he continued .

"I should have given you a chance to explain. I should have listened to you and I didn't. I'm sorry for that ."

"Oh, I just bet you are," I said, the words popping out with more heat and venom than I realized I could ever carry inside me. Tossing back more wine, I turned my back to him and leaned against the counter. "Okay, you apologized. You can leave now, Jake. Thanks for stopping by ."

Oh, shit! Is that me ? A huge part of me cringed at the sheer rudeness in my tone, but that part of me that had been demanding I not call him, that I not try to make him believe me when he never should have accused me to begin with was dancing. This...it was freeing . Almost like what I told Aunt Blair. I was used to trapping everything inside, but it all wanted to come out .

"Michelle, please ..."

I spun around and slammed the glass down. It shattered on impact, but I didn't care. "Please what ?" I shouted. "You came here and accused me of something so awful , it makes me sick, and now you're here because you...what? You think that an apology will make it okay to ask me if I was some selfish bitch instead of just outright telling me that I'm one? No !"

He blinked, looking a little dazed, but whether it was by my outburst or by something I said, I didn't know .

He shifted and instinctively, I backed away. Glass crunched under my foot, and I gasped as a sliver of pain shot through my heel. "Shit !"

He was around the kitchen island in a heartbeat, and before I could ward him off, he had me in his arms. "Put me down!" I snapped .

"In the middle of a bunch of broken glass?" he asked, sounding almost insanely reasonable .

I didn't want him to be chivalrous right now. I wanted him to be an asshole like he'd been the other day. "They're my feet ."

"I don't care. I'm not letting you cut them up," he responded, putting me down on the counter. He then leaned far to the left and grabbed the roll of paper towels and ripped a few off, forming a fat pad. "Here. You deal with that while I clean up the mess ."

As he turned away, I gave his back a dirty look .

"You deal with that..." I mouthed, mocking him, but because I could feel the blood – and the pain – I lifted my foot up. "Oh, shit. Shit. Shit ."

Jake was immediately back in front of me, one hand grabbing my ankle as I sagged back, feeling a little sick. "What's...ouch ."

A piece of glass, almost the size of a quarter, was sticking out of my heel, and the sight of it, all bloody and red, had my head spinning. It wasn't the blood so much that made me feel sick, but the glass sticking out...yeah, that did it .

He shot me a look. "Blood makes you sick?" he asked gently .

"No. Seeing something sticking out of my body does," I said sourly. I gave my foot a tug. "Let me go ."

He didn't though. "It'll be hard for you to deal with this if you can't look at it without getting sick," he replied. He shifted, half-turning his back and using his body as a barrier. "You're right, you know ."

"About... ouch !"

He turned back to me, the bloody piece of glass in his hand. He grabbed a few more paper towels with the free one and dumped the bloodied glass onto it. "I want to make sure there's nothing more inside it ."

"Inside..."

His eyes dropped to my foot .

"Oh." My belly rolled but I nodded .

A few seconds later, another dart of pain lit through me. Jake, voice soft and easy, spoke throughout. "I shouldn't have accused you. You were right. I'm sorry about that. I came over here...hell, Michelle...are you crying? Did I hurt you that bad ?"

"I cut my foot open!" I sniffed and jerked against his hold once more. This time, he let go, and I pulled my injured appendage in, pressing the paper towel pad against it. It was still sore, but not as bad as it had been when he pressed on it .

"There was another piece in there – probably broke off from that bigger chunk." He sounded hesitant, something I had never associated with him. "I didn't mean to hurt you ."

"Stop being nice!" I went to push off the counter, only to freeze, but the light glittered off the remnants of the glass I broke. I slid my gaze along the floor, wondering if I could scoot along the surface and make my way down to where there wasn't any glass .

"Don't even think about it," Jake warned, pointing a finger at my nose .

I smacked it away, surprising us both. "You don't get to tell me what to do," I said, jutting my chin up. "After what you accused me of ."

"Aw, fuck." He moved back to me, glass crunching under his boots. "I'm sorry, Michelle, okay? I'm sorrier than you'll ever know. I haven't slept worth shit since I left here and not because I was mad at you..." He blew out a breath, looking away. "Some part of me knew I was off base. I was mad at me, but I think ..."

He stopped talking and just shook his head .

"You think what?" I asked .

His eyes came back to mine. "You scare me," he said quietly. "Everything about you scares me. I think I reacted out of fear because you scare me, and you make me rethink the things I thought I had to focus on. It makes it damn hard to carry on with doing what needs to be done when you're worried about somebody else, when you're thinking about somebody else..." He reached up and cupped my cheek. My heart jumped as he rubbed his thumb over my lower lip. "When you find you're suddenly needing somebody else ."

"You don't need me," I said, my voice thick .

"You don't get to decide what I need and don't need," he said, easing in closer. "The past few days, it's like there's a hole in me. Seeing you filled it, but every time I think about how I hurt you, every time you look at me like you are now...that hole gets bigger again." He rubbed his lips against mine. "Let me fix this, Michelle. Tell me how to fix this ."

"I didn't go to the press ."

"I know that." He touched his forehead to mine. "I should have known that all along. I don't...my mind is playing tricks on me. I don't handle fear real well and when I saw the story...I was wrong. Plain and simple ."

"You were an ass ," I said, my voice breaking .

"I was." He kissed one eye closed, then the other. "How can I fix this ?"

But I didn't know what to tell him .

How could I explain that I'd been missing him like I'd miss breathing ?

How could I explain that his lack of trust in me was like glass in my heart ?

I just didn't know .

"Let me fix this," he said again. This time, it was against my lips .

Weak already, I moaned, and when he flicked the seam of my mouth with his tongue, I opened for him. He pushed his hands into my hair, tugging my head back as he deepened the kiss .

Starving for him, I reached up and twined my arms around him .

I'd probably been lost to him the moment he said my name through the damn speaker .

Why had I even bothered trying ?

As skilled hands stripped my clothes away, I fumbled with his coat, then his t-shirt. I shoved them out of the way, dropping them to the floor, forgetting all about the glass .

It crunched under his boots again as he picked me up and turned, putting me down on the island. The marble was cold against my naked skin, warming quickly .

"Let me..." He muttered against my lips, kissing a hot path down the midline of my body until he bent over me, his mouth level with my core. Jake licked me, and I felt it throughout every inch of my body .

Arching up to meet the next stroke, I curled my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. "Please," I whimpered .

There were no teasing, taunting, tempting remarks from him this time, just a low, hungry noise as he closed his mouth over me and kissed me square on the cunt before shifting higher and focusing his attention on my clitoris. A rough hand smoothed up one thigh, seeking out the folds between my legs. As he speared two fingers deep inside, I felt the first warning tighten inside me, already .

It was like I was an instrument keyed only to his touch .

He pushed up with those two fingers, applying pressure to my G-spot, and I cried out, my nails scoring his scalp as I worked myself against his mouth and hand .

"Please," I whispered, panting. "Please...please... yes !"

The orgasm hit hard and fast, and he continued to pump those fingers, tease my clitoris all the way through, bringing me back down slowly and drawing every last bit of pleasure from it that he could. By the time he began to kiss his way back up my torso, I was so drained, I could have fallen asleep right there .

Or maybe not .

His lips sought out my ear .

"I want you. Right here. Right now. Can I ?"

Sleepily, I lifted my lids and focused on that beautiful face. "I'm pretty sure I haven't been giving any mixed signals ."

"Tell me yes," he said, his teeth catching my earlobe and tugging .

"Yes..." It came out of me on a shuddering sigh, and I moaned as he traced his tongue along the shell of my ear before pushing up on his hands .

I watched as he freed himself from the confines of his jeans, wrapping a long-fingered hand around his cock as he looked down at me .

"You're turning into a problem, Michelle," he muttered, pumping his hand slowly up and down .

I might have asked him what he meant, but the sight of him stroking himself was so erotic, I lost my breath. I might have even lost my mind a little, staring at him with my heart hammering against my ribs .

"The way you watch me..." He practically growled the words and I shivered as his voice stroked over me like whiskeyed velvet. My nipples tightened to the point of pain as I dragged my eyes up and met his .

"I can't help it ."

He caught my hand and guided it between my thighs. "Make it even then. Show me how you like to touch yourself ."

Blood rushed to heat my cheeks, but wild need and other things drove me to do just that, and I began stroking myself as he watched .

I was slick and hot, the folds of my pussy swollen .

The few times I'd managed to climax on my own, I'd never been this wet before, this aching and empty, this ready to be filled. But I didn't beg for him to end it .

Not yet .

Instead, I watched as he fisted and pumped his cock, lay there, circling my clit as he watched me. When the sensations became too much, I closed my thighs around my hand and moaned, feeling the orgasm rushing closer .

"Don't do that...let me see," Jake said, his lids low. "I'm going to come all over you here in a few seconds. I want to see you come for me...right like this ."

I whimpered, the words so hot and raw, they were another stroke against my already over-sensitized nerves. He pumped his hand harder, faster, but kept the other on my knee, keeping me from closing my thighs. "Do it, Michelle," he urged. "Let me see you come ."

Breath coming hard and fast, I stopped caring and just gave in .

As he watched, I stroked myself to orgasm, and just as I bucked against my wet, slick fingers, he came too, semen jetting from him to splash on my belly .

He didn't even wait .

He grabbed my hips, pulled me closer to the edge of the island and thrust in .

"Jake!"

He snarled and twisted his hips, thrust deeper, harder .

I reached up, grasping at his biceps, but it wasn't enough. He seemed to understand because he pulled me up against him, our fronts sticky now, flesh sliding and slipping together. He picked me up and carried me, the weight of my body driving me farther down on his cock .

Crying out, pinned between pain and pleasure, I clung to him .

A moment later, he had my back to the wall, and he caught me behind the thighs, draping my knees over his elbows. He grunted out my name as he withdrew, then thrust deep .

It was almost too much, but the pleasure rivaled the fullness of him, and I couldn't imagine not having him this close, not right now. His movements grew rougher, more frantic, and my orgasm rushed even closer .

We came together, his mouth sealing over mine just as I cried out his name. As he swallowed down the sound, his cock swelled inside me and jerked, setting the rhythmic sensations within me to fluttering all over it .

It was too much .

Way, way too much .

Black dots danced in front of my eyes, and for a few seconds, I thought I might pass out .

"Michelle," he murmured against my hair a couple of moments later, his breathing as ragged as mine .

Closing my eyes, I tucked my face into his chest, not quite yet ready to think .

He seemed content with that .

But I doubted it would last .