Rebecca awoke slowly, feeling safe and warm, drifting in that small space of sleep that made the position you were in the most comfortable in the world. She murmured softly and sighed, turning her face into the pillow, and blinking open her eyes when she inhaled a large breath of what Kalin smelled like.

Raising her head slowly, she realized why. She was laying in Kalin's bed, him sleeping beside her, far enough away that he wouldn't be pressed against her, but close enough that they could reach out and touch each other. But at this moment he was on his back, one hand thrown over his eyes, the other laying at his side, slightly reaching towards her. He looked. . . peaceful, but tired, as if this were the first time in a long time he had slept at all.

Slowly, so as not to wake him, she rose from his bed, creeping silently out into the hall and shutting the door behind her. She figured that she could at least look around while he slept, since she was curious to his taste. As she padded out into the living room that led into the kitchen, she glanced at the bar and blushed deeply, remembering when they had made it to his house. She had no excuse for that one, she had most definitely come onto him, his slow and passionate kisses setting her on fire. She knew he hadn't intended for his kiss to turn out as such, but she wanted him with a fierce ache.

And yet even after he had stripped her naked and laid her against the bar, he still refused to take off his clothes, even though she had pleaded and begged with him. But instead he tortured her with mouth and fingers, the coolness of them erotic and wonderful and so . . . new. Passion and pleasure had been so overwhelming, so drowning, blocking out any thought, fueling every response and demanding she take what he body wanted and needed.

She bit her lip, the memory so blurry she could really not make much out. But she did know one thing, Kalin hadn't come. At least not with her. She could have made him, had wanted too, but every advance was met with wicked smile and more torture. Until he hang finally pinned her arms behind her back with one hand and refused to stop even when she was begging.

Clearing her throat she dragged her eyes away from it, moving to the living room, where there was a small blue loveseat, and a matching couch. A small low coffee table sat in front of them, covered in picture frames all showing so many people. There was some of a man she was going to presume was his father, some of his sister, and some people she didn't know. She frowned at one of the pictures, about to pick it up, when something in the corner caught he eye.

Gasping, she went over to his sound system, lovingly running her hands over it. This was one of the best out there, and he even had all of the little odds and ends that came with it. It could reach high sound and keep the perfect quality, and she knew that Philip owned the same. He had bought it as a gift for her when she was younger, but knew her family would take it from her should he give it to her. So he just gave her the key to his small flat, that he never seemed to go to, and let her go nuts. She loved to play the classical's on this, and also sometimes even her own music. Seeing it brought back so many memories, and also spoke volumes about what music Kalin preferred. This was def. Not a system for screamo.

Well, maybe if you wanted your ears to bleed.

She allowed her hands to wander, skimming down to the drawers that the system sat on, and opening them up.

Only to blink in shocked surprise.

How in the world had he managed to get the recordings of her when she played in school? She had been recorded and then they had been sent out, sort as a gig advertisement, but that was before her parents had realized that they could make money from it, so the school used her instead.

She gave a snort. Seemed she was always getting used one way or another. Except with Kalin . . .

Her eyes drifted down the hall, back towards the bed room door, and her heart thumped hard in her chest.

No, no, she was not falling in love with him!

But she did really really like him . . .

Yeah, right.

With a sigh she shut the drawer, then moved towards the kitchen, figuring next time maybe she could make him dinner.

Yeah, and maybe they could make it through it without mentally stripping away each others clothes and eating each other alive.

She opened up the fridge, the tiles cold against her bare feet, his shirt reach mid thigh, and the air hitting her bare skin. She felt delight when she saw the contents of his fridge, one half a health freaks best dream, and the other half full of every fridge junk food she could ever even think she crave. God, could this male get any more perfect?

Reaching in, she plucked out a peach, and then went to sit on a stool to eat it, looking at the rest of the apartment. The walls were a sunset orange, going well with the midnight blue carpet that was so soft she could sleep it on it. There were paintings that covered his walls, nothing expensive or fancy, but they were beautiful and simplistic, and helped with the warm feeling. From what she had seen of the bed room with the moonlight streaming in through the window, he had a California king with a large wooden head board, the sheets were pure silk and were a rich and wicked red. It was a color you could not look at without picturing wicked things. And . . . wrestling.

Yeah, wrestling, sure.

She could not honestly love this apartment more if she had decorated it herself.

Sighing at that thought, she stood and threw away the core of her peach and then washed her hands with some water. But then she could not stand it any longer, she wanted to see him again, her body greedy for the sight of him. She loved the time that they had spent together, but she needed to talk to him. He just seemed to get more and more perfect. He could kiss like the devil himself, he was hot as hell itself, and he cared about her more than anyone else ever had. He took her into consideration with every little thing he did, and it made her heart pound in her chest. He made her laugh and feel safe and he could make her heart pounding her chest with just a smile. Not to mention he smelled like sin itself, making her want to melt on the floor in a puddle of woman satisfaction.

Her list just went on and on.

And speaking of her heart pounding, it was thumping so hard now and she made her way back to the bed room that she thought it was going to jump out of her chest and run away.

She opened up the bedroom door softly and slipped in, not wanting to wake him if he needed his sleep as badly and she suspected.

"Did my home suite your tastes?" his voice was sleep rich and sinful, and it made her jump with surprise and then face him with a guilty flush to her cheeks. She had been snooping, it didn't matter what word he used to call it, that is what she had truthfully been doing.

"I love it," she answered honestly, standing several feet from the bed and looking at him in the light of the rich moonlight. He had turned on his side to face her and had put his head in his hand to prop it up and watch her. He watched her with hooded eyes that shone with love and wicked thoughts, an it made her swallow heavily, her body responding.

"I like how you look in my shirt." he said softly, making it obvious he was thinking of taking it off of her rather than her wearing it.

"Thank you," she said shyly.

"Come to me, my Little Bride." she found she liked it when he called her that, and so she did come to him, but she pulled back when he went to draw her into his arms.

"Kalin," she said softly, "I need to talk to you about something."

"speak away," he immediately.

"I don't want to have sex with you, yet." immediately he tensed.

"Why?" that word was laced with so much hurt and confusion it tore at her heart. He obviously thought it was him, and she found herself reaching out to touch his face, wanting to ease his hurt. She wanted him at ease more than she had wanted anyone else, and she cared about him more than she did anyone else. And it was so easy, she didn't have to even think about it to do it.

"It isn't you, Kalin." she said softly. "You make me laugh and make me tingle and you give me anything I could every ask for. You never push me, and it obvious you love me." her throat constricted on the last words. He did, he loved her, and she did not return the sentiment, but she didn't know why she didn't. "You pleasure me like no one else every could and you want me to be happy and you share every taste with me."

"Then why?" he asked softly, taking her hand, meeting her gaze.

"I want to know everything about you before I take you to bed, I want too . . . I want too . . ."

"You want to love me."

She did.

"And you haven't passed all of test's yet." she said, trying for a teasing air to ease the heavy air that now hung over them.

"What have I passed so far." he was not even going with her teasing.

"You are great with kids, and you can dance wonderfully, you can take your alcohol, and you like the same foods I do, I am guessing you can cook. You like the same kind of music as me, and I love your place," then her voice lowered a few octaves, and it sounded husky even to her. "You make me ache and make me want you without even trying. You invade my dreams, and I love your smell and your touch, and you seem to know just what to do to me."

"Then why?" he pleaded, looking at her as if she were tearing out his heart. "Then why can't you love me?"

Why couldn't she? Why DIDN'T she love him? He was perfect!

"I don't know!" she whispered softly, tears pressing her eyes, because she didn't know, and it hurt. Could she love? Would she just end up hurting him? She wanted to love him, she wanted him to be hers, to share her life with him.

Wanting to soothe her, but not knowing how, Kalin softly kissed her, softly stroking her to ease her pain. But she kissed him hard and fiercly, surprising him, their kiss tasting of peaches.

"Make me love you, Kalin." she pleaded brokenly, tears falling down her face. "Make me love you!"