"Natsume let me up, please."

"In a minute."

He moved lazily, settled himself lower on her body, kissed the rise of her breasts. "You have too much clothing on," he said huskily. "Does this dress have a zipper?"

Her dress. Oh, it was worse and worse. She still had her dress on, even her boots. Natsume was fully clothed, too. She hadn't even given him the chance to—

"Natsume. I wasn't to get up!"

There was a note of panic in her voice. She heard it; she knew Natsume did, too, from the way he reacted.

"I did hurt you." He drew back. "Mikan, baby, I'm sorry. I—"

"Dammit, will you stop saying that?" her face flamed. "Look, I don't want to talk about it. I just—I want you to get off me." He did, and she shot to her feet. "Where's the bathroom?"

"Down the hall, but I can make things better, if you'd just—"

She didn't let him finish. Instead, she tugged the bodice of her dress up and the hem of it down. She could feel Natsume's eyes boring into her as she made her way down the hall. Maybe it was just as well she was dressed. Walking away naked, with him watching, would have been the final humiliation.

Why did she have to come here? Why had she done this? She'd never be able to look at Natsume again, without thinking—

Mikan slammed the bathroom door behind her and locked it.

"Oh my God," she said, in a choked whisper.

After a few seconds, she turned on the light, took a steady breath and faced herself in the mirror. It was worse than she'd expected. Her hair was a tangle of wild curls, her lip gloss was gone, her mascara was smudged. She looked like a woman who'd been doing exactly what she'd been doing… except she hadn't been doing it very well.

A sound burst from her throat. Turning on the water muffled it; she cupped her hands under the stream. It was icy-cold; she gasped as she splashed it on her face.

Now what?

If only this were New York, she thought, as she dried her hands and face. Thank you for everything, Natsume, she'd say. No, no, don't get up. I'll see myself out. Two minutes later, she'd be in the street, hailing a taxi or finding the nearest bus stop or subway station. Forget the snowstorm. Snowstorms didn't stop anybody, in the city.

But she wasn't in the city. No buses, no taxis, no subways. She might as well have been on the moon.

"Mikan?"

Mikan spun around and stared at the door.

The knob rattled. "Baby, are you okay?"

Baby. What kind of name was that for a man to call a woman?

"Yes," she said brightly, "I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine. Are you crying?"

"Don't be silly." Mikan swiped at her streaming eyes with the back of her hand. She was crying. And wasn't that dumb? Okay, so she'd made a fool of herself but still, why would she cry? "Why would I cry, Natsume?"

"I don't know, but I'd like to find out. Open the door, Mikan."

"No."

"Mikan." Natsume's voice hardened. "Open this door!"

"I don't have to. This is a bathroom. People are entitled to privacy, in the bathroom."

Natsume leaned his forehead against the door. Dammit, now what? Of course she was crying. He'd dealt with enough teary females to know what woman sounded like when she was crying. It usually sent him running in the opposite direction but where could he run to? This was his house, the wind and snow are howling outside…and besides, it was doing funny things to him, hearing his sparrow weep.

Why would she cry? Okay, things hadn't been perfect. He hadn't made love the way he'd intended, so that it would last, so that he could seek out all her most sensitive places, hold her in his arms and watch her lovely face as she found the fulfillment he, and only he, could bring her…

He, and only he?

Natsume frowned. What in hell was that supposed to mean? He was teaching Mikan about passion. That was what he promised, what she'd accepted.

Easy. He needed a minute to get things in perspective. What had happened had thrown him. he'd expected Mikan to be inexperienced, but a virgin?

No way.

That had come as a shock. No wonder he'd—he'd—

Who was he kidding? He'd lost control. That had never happened to him before, not since he was a kid. He'd loved sex: the musky scents; the hot whispered sounds; the swift rocket-ride to the stars, but a little piece of him always stayed outside, kind of like an observer. What had happened to the observer this time? How come, at that end, nothing had mattered but being deep inside Mikan?

The answer was simple. All the prim propriety, hiding all that heat. What man wouldn't lose control? What man wouldn't find the experience exceptional?

In fact, he wanted her again. Right now. The truth was, he hadn't stopped wanting her, even after they'd both come. Did she know how rare that was, that a man and a woman found release at the same instant? No. she wouldn't know. She was so innocent. So…

Natsume rubbed his hands over his face. His body was hardening, his pulse starting to do the samba, because he wanted to make love to Mikan again. And what did Mikan what?

She wanted to lock herself inside the bathroom and cry.

Had he failed her that badly?

"Mikan," he said, trying to sound stern, "I want you out of there this second."

Silence greeted him demand. He frowned, eyed the door narrowly.

"Mikan? Come out. I'll bust the door down, if I have to."

Mikan gave a ladylike snort. "Oh, that's the ticket, Natsume. You don't get what you want, just start barking!"

"Dammit, Mikan…" a nerve ticked in Natsume's temple. He laid his palms flat against the door, touched his forehead to the wood. "Let's not turn this into a battle. Just open the lock, okay?"

"No."

"You have to, sooner or later."

"I don't."

"Of course you do. You'll get hungry, or tired or thirsty…"

"I'm not hungry. There's plenty of water and I can always curl up on the floor."

Natsume looked at the door considered beating his head agai8nst it, and decided Mikan would simply stand by and let him do it.

"Mikan?"

"Yes?"

He hesitated. "Are you sure I didn't hurt you?"

"Positive." She spoke softly, so softly that he could hardly hear her. "You didn't hurt me at all."

Natsume cleared his throat. "Yeah, but I disappointed you."

"You didn't disappoint me, either."

"Sure, I did. I was—I was way too fast. I didn't mean it to be like that but when you said—"

"Don't repeat it!" Mikan closed her eyes in misery. "I know what I said. If I could take it back—"

"Take back that you wanted me inside you?"

"Please," she whispered, "don't talk about it. I'm so embarrassed…"

"Embarrassed? That you let me know you wanted me? Mikan, don't you know what that did to me? Hearing you say those things?"

Mikan slid down to the floor and leaned her head against the door. "You don't have to be polite, Natsume."

Natsume gave a chocked laugh as he slid to the floor on the opposite side of the door. "Hell, Sparrow, good manners have nothing to do with this. I'm just sorry I made it all so quick. I wanted it to be perfect."

"It was perfect. It's just that i… What did you call me?"

"Sparrow. My sweet, hot little sparrow."

Mikan cringed. "'Hot' isn't a word a lady appreciates, Natsume."

"A woman's not supposed to be a lady when a man makes love to her, Mikan."

"No?"

"No. is that what this is all about? That you weren't a lady?"

Another long silence. "Maybe."

"Baby, listening to me. A lady's the last thing a man wants in his bed."

He waited. She didn't reply.

"Mikan? Sweetheart, please open the door. I promise, next time will be better."

"There won't be a next time." She paused. "And—and even if there were, how could it be better?" she thought back to that hot explosion of light. "How could it?" she said again, but very softly.

Natsume rose slowly to his feet. "Open the door," he said huskily, "and I'll show you."