Then the door opened. The sight of familiar silver-blue eyes was enough to stutter my heart to a stop.

No, I can't do this. I'm not strong enough. But I couldn't run now.

"You came," he said, his eyes holding mine.

I nodded, still trying to ease my racing heart. He was devastatingly handsome.

He stepped aside and indicated for me to enter. It was like the lion inviting his prey in. Determined, I pushed my shoulders back slightly as I forced myself to take the few steps inside despite my instinct telling me to get out.

The sound of the door shutting behind me tightened the knot of nervousness in my stomach. I hated feeling this way, so when I turned to face him I refused to allow him to see how his presence affected me.

"What did you want to talk about?" I asked him coolly.

He rubbed the back of his neck as he walked past me into the living room. Feeling more frustrated, I followed behind him. He was casually dressed in a pair of jeans and a white shirt. He was barefoot.

"Sit," he instructed.

I eyed the sofa for a moment before I sat down, rubbing my sweating palms on my jeans to ease my nervousness.

He remained standing. I didn't like that I was forced to look up at him.

"Just say what you have to," I finally said, hating the suspense that was building up between us—the type of tension you could cut with a knife.

He remained silent as he studied me.

"Do you want to leave?" he asked softly. The tone of his voice made the hairs on the back of my neck tingle with awareness. It was unexpected.

"Stop playing games and get to the point." I crossed my arms.

"When I told you I couldn't do us, I wasn't trying to hurt you."

I pressed my lips firmly together to suppress the sharp pain I felt at the memory. Even if he hadn't meant to, he had. I uncrossed my arms and gripped the edge of the seat.

"I can't do emotional attachments," he continued, but I put my hand up to stop him as I stood up.

"I don't want to hear it," I told him. "I heard you the first time. I don't need a repeat."

"Don't," he said, stepping forward.

"What do you want from me?" I held both my hands out to him.

"Let me finish what I need to say," he said forcefully, and I gritted my teeth to stop myself from snapping back at him.

He stepped forward. He was so close I just had to lift my hand to touch him. Fisting my hands beside me, I resisted the temptation to touch him.

"Telling you I couldn't be with you was easier..." That hurt. I turned to leave. "...than living it each day."

I stood still, with my back to him. I know he stepped closer because I could feel the heat from his body even though he wasn't touching me.

"Tell me you haven't been thinking about me."

I tightened my fisted hands again as I swallowed my nervousness. I didn't want to give in but I couldn't deny I had been haunted by the same thoughts. It was the attraction between the two of us. Like a lit fire, it continued to burn.

But my stubbornness refused to allow me to turn and face him. I was hanging on by a thread.

"Tell me you don't want me to touch you."

I closed my eyes briefly to fight against the instinct that wanted to follow his command. The feel of his warm breath whispered on the back of my neck, and I struggled against the tremor of need that ran through me.

"Tell me to stop," he whispered.

I wanted to. His lips brushed against my skin and I squeezed my eyes shut. My skin burned under his lips.

"You want me."

He trailed kisses down the side of my neck. For just a moment I leaned back into him, allowing myself to feel the power of the chemistry between us.

It would be so easy to give in and let it happen. I wanted to so badly. But the pain I had felt when he had walked away returned and I stepped forward, out of his reach.

I turned to face him, my breathing rapid as I tried to fight for control. I put my hands on my hips.

"You wanted me to come over for this?" I asked angrily.

"You can deny it all you want. I know you want me too." He said it so confidently.

"You're the one who said you couldn't do us."

For several moments we stood, our eyes connected.

"I can't do emotions. I can't do relationships." He stepped closer, and my breath stilled.

"I can do this." He leaned closer and kissed me lightly before he pulled away. "This is what I want."

His hand slid to the back of my neck and pulled me closer when his mouth covered mine. Any resistance I had managed to muster crumbled under the heat of his kiss.

I gripped his shirt as his mouth moved over mine. I opened my lips slightly as I groaned against his lips. His tongue slid into my mouth and swept against my tongue. My stomach flipped at the action.

"I want you," he murmured against my lips. His free arm encircled my waist, pulling me closer to his body. My hands splayed over his hard chest. God, he felt so good.

Somewhere in the back of my mind a voice spoke up: Stop.

I tried to ignore it. I didn't want to think, I wanted to feel his body against mine. Giving in to the physical need of my body for his was what mattered. There was no feelings, no thinking.

When his lips broke from mine, I looked up at him as my tongue slid across my bottom lip while I struggled to breathe. His eyes darkened when they took in the small action.

This was so confusing. I had come over not knowing what to expect and now I was standing in front of him, breathless, trying to figure out what was happening.

"Do you want me?" he asked, looking confident, like he already knew the answer. His hand slid from my neck to rest on my hip.

I did, but I bit my tongue. I felt like I was a puppet being controlled by strings.

"Tell me you don't want this." His hand gripped my hip firmer, pulling me closer.

Being so close to him was intoxicating. Like that drunk feeling where you were floating and everything around you felt right and peaceful.

It would be so easy to say yes and fall into his arms. Our night together would make my world shift. It would be great. But what would happen when the night turned to day and our night together was finished?

I reminded myself how I felt when he had told me he couldn't give me what I wanted.

I woke up. My hand moved to the empty space beside me. It was dark but a soft light from the hallway lit the familiar room. I lifted myself up onto my elbow as I brushed my hair out of my face.

Then I found him. My heart spiked at the sight of him. He had that way of knocking me physically when those eyes found mine. He was leaning against the door, watching me silently with his arms crossed.

Heated kisses and a physical want that burned between us had led us to his bedroom. But the ghosts from my past had stopped it from going any further. My inability to deal with my issues was playing havoc with my life. Against my better judgment and at his insistence, I'd stayed the night. He hadn't wanted me catching a taxi so late.

"Slater." I spoke his name softly as I sat up. I held the blanket to my chest even though I was dressed in my shirt and underwear. My jeans still lay discarded on his bedroom floor. Maybe I was trying to hide my vulnerability.

He didn't answer. Instead, he continued to watch me without saying a word. I wasn't sure what to say.

"I'm sorry," I said, unsure of what to say to erase what had happened the night before.

"You have nothing to be sorry about," he said.

We were silent for a few moments. The air between us was uncomfortable and I didn't know what to say next. He let out a heavy breath. It was a strong sign that whatever he was going to say I wasn't going to like.

"I can't." He ran a hand through his hair. My frown deepened. A fear uncoiled in the pit of my stomach. I knew what was coming.

"I can't do this," he said, gesturing from me to him. The fear burned like a physical pain.

I swallowed a lump of emotion. The ache spread through my chest.

"Who said it was what I wanted?" I managed to say.

Had my freak-out the previous night scared him off? I couldn't help feeling self-conscious.

"You deserve better than what I can give you."

Facing him with the renewed feeling of pain, I felt the strength to resist him.

***********

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