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"Oh, Duncan," I moaned.

When he lifted his head this time and looked

into my eyes, I couldn't help but lean toward him and

draw his lips to mine. In a way we were both throwing

each other a lifeline, pulling each other out of the

darkness.

We kissed a soft, but long, kiss. I could feel

him trembling, and it wasn't because I had excited him. He was trembling with fear. It both annoyed and

angered me, and I was sure he saw that in my eyes. "You're not going to go to hell because of how

you feel about me, Duncan. I don't care what your

mother or anyone has told you or how you have been

made to interpret what you read in the Bible." He looked a little ashamed that he was so easily

read. I touched his cheek and smiled.

"Who knows? Maybe you'll find a little heaven

with me," I said, and he smiled.

"You are good," he said with confidence. "I

know you're good for me." "We're good for each

other."

"Yes, yes. You're right."

He kissed me again and I kept my hands around

his shoulders, pulling him toward me until he was on

the bed with me.

"Don't be afraid," I whispered to drive back his

hesitation. "Not of me, not of yourself."

He looked down at me, and then, like a little

boy opening a Christmas Day package, he began to

undo my towel.

15 Two of a Kind

. At first it seemed that all he would do is gaze upon me, feast with his eyes and then wrap me up again and run out. I anticipated it. I held my breath. Was it wrong for me to study his face while he looked at me? I was fascinated with how he reacted to me, to the power I seem to have over him. I could almost see the struggle inside him to look but not touch.

"I've never been like this with any other girl," he said in a hoarse whisper.