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Buffy was in no rush to go back to the mansion. Her two days were up and she had made no move to let William in on that fact. She figured he didn’t notice, didn’t care, or maybe wanted her to stay and didn’t want to draw attention to it either; and she was tempted to ask which it was. For some reason, she hoped it was that he didn’t want her to go. She felt…free. She felt free and safe with William. The things she told him, she’d never told another before – not even her sister -- and Dru was the closest person she’d ever been to. There was just something about William that gave her the freedom to open up, to be free. She felt as though she had a soft place to land and that he would not judge her. She kept waiting for him to, thinking that it had to come – she was used to judgment, she was not used to acceptance. Even Dru judged her on some level. Everyone always seemed to expect more from her, but no one just let her be her. Sure, William wanted her to be able to accept her “gift”, but she knew he wouldn’t be upset with her if she never did.

He made her feel things. Things stirred up inside her and swirled around making her feel light, heady and giddy. Yes, Buffy Summers felt giddy. It could have been that he told her what a great kisser she was. Putting her fingers to her lips, she swore she felt them tingle; she swore she could still feel his lips there. She found herself staring at him as he cleaned up the kitchen, having banned her from it. She watched the way his body moved, the way his muscles rippled under the T he wore. She didn’t think he’d like to hear her say this, but he was graceful. Sleek-like. Like a cat. He moved with agility; he was one fit man.

In a word: Gorgeous.

She’d seen him in a suit and she’d seen him in casual wear such as jeans. Both suited him well. Both made her feel all tingly inside.

“What are you thinking about, kitten?”

His question jarred her from her musings and she immediately felt the heat rise to her cheeks. She’d been checking him out and he’d caught her. Great. Good job, Summers.

She cleared her throat and shook her head.

He rose a brow and sauntered, almost prowled into the sitting room. He grinned, “You were staring at me.”

She shook her head adamantly, “No—I – I wasn’t.”

“You were. And you’re blushing. How . . . cute.”

She gulped and stood on shaky legs. “I – I”

“Hmmm?” he asked, moving slowly closer still.

Sleek-like. Like a cat. Panther. Gorgeous. Those were the words running like a mantra in her mind.

“Would you kiss me again?” she blurted out.

Those words not only surprised her, but him as well. Did she really just say that? Did she mean it? Watching him lick his lips, she thought, Yes.

“You mean that, kitten?” he asked quietly, voicing the question she’d just asked herself a minute before.

“Yeah, I—“ Be brave Buffy, “I mean that.”

Stepping forward, he reached out and pulled her close to him, until their bodies were flush up against each other. She gasped at the feel of all that hardness pressed up against her, how such a different contrast it was, how nice it felt.

“Look at me, Buffy,” he implored her gently, tilting her head up to his with the tip of his finger.

She looked up and into his eyes, studying how incredibly blue they were. “Yeah?”

He smiled down at her. “You’re so beautiful, you know.”

“You are too,” she blurted out and then looked away. She tried to pull back and he held her firmly in place. She had to be as red as a tomato now.

“Why do you pull away? Why does it make you afraid to tell me you find me attractive?” he asked softly, running a hand through her hair. “Hmmm? It makes me feel good to know that you find me attractive. Then at least I know I’m not alone.”

“Alone?”

“In this thing between us. You feel it, don’t you, Buffy?”

The deep timbre in his voice, the way his breath fanned her face and his sheer closeness to her, was making her feel weak and so incredibly thoughtless. How he expected her to think with all these combined, she did not know.

"Close your eyes," he whispered and she immediately did so.

The minute she felt his soft and yet firm lips touch hers, all was lost. All thought left completely and all she could do was feel and focus on how he felt, how she felt. Her body awakened, it felt as if every nerve were tingling, and every nerve wanted more, more, more. She clutched at him, and unconsciously pulled him even closer to her.

Kissing Buffy was like touching heaven. William had kissed a lot of women in his day, but never had he felt such complete bliss in doing so. Kisses in the past were of the puppy love variety, the lust variety ranging from 'I want you eventually', to 'I want you now', and then the comfortable, dutiful kisses of the established relationship variety. But kissing Buffy was something else entirely. Everything in him hummed and felt rejuvenated. He felt passion, such an intense passion, he felt himself getting swept away in a torrent of need he didn't want to even try to resist. Though he knew he would have to by the one functioning part of his brain that would keep him at least somewhat in check. He felt his heart swell inside his chest to massive proportions and he wondered if she could feel it nearly bursting through his chest cavity in its desire to make itself known to her. Kissing her was dangerous. He felt that he wasn't so much falling as having already fallen. Hormones, he told himself, but even that seemed a feeble excuse.

Needing more, William's lips left her mouth, giving them a chance to breath, and William the chance to trail open mouthed kisses down her slender neck. His hands had a mind of their own, and bunched at her waist, sliding up, up, up until they were just under her breasts. Even they seemed to know that that might be pushing things too far with Buffy.

And then she moaned, and all was lost. His head snapped up and he looked at her hotly, taking in her flush faced, and her eyes heavy with lust. He dove in with a growl of unmistakable hunger and kissed her hard, demandingly and possessively. His hands, this time inched up, covering her clothed breasts, feeling the weight of them in his palms. He was harder than nails and she paid no heed to the fact that his erection was pressing into her belly, rubbing ever so gently against her, craving friction.

"Buffy," he moaned, "God I want you so much, Buffy." And his wandering mouth slid down her throat once more, his hands tangling in her hair and tugging her head back lightly for further access. He moved them, stumbling back until they hit the couch and they fell onto it, a tangle of arms and legs. His mouth dove for her breast at the same time her hands bunched in his hair – and pulled hard.

“Will, please, stop.”

She sounded so terrified that William froze and looked up at her. Her eyes were wide, she was panting and she looked more afraid of him than she had been of the ghosts back at the mansion.

He was off her in a flash, nearly jumping to the other side of the couch. “I’m sorry, Buffy. I went to far, I’m sorry—“

“Will, stop.”

He clamped his mouth shut.

She licked her lips and sat up, rearranging her clothes. “I – I don’t know what to do.”

“What?” he asked hoarsely.

“I’ve never . . . that is, I’ve never –“

“Made love?”

She nodded, “Yes, that.” She gave him a quirky smile, “I thought men called it ‘sex’ or ‘fucking’.”

“Not when they care about the person they’re with.”

That did her in and Buffy jumped up from the couch, clearing her throat and avoiding his gaze. She could talk about the physical and doing the physical, but she could not talk about the emotion behind it.
That hurt, but he held himself back from lashing out. Buffy didn’t know any better, he told himself. She grew up in an environment where there was no such thing as feeling. It frightened her.

Instead, he took a deep, calming breath and stood. Besides, it was too soon for him to be spilling his heart to her. “How about we go out?”

“Huh?” the shift in conversation had her bewildered and off balance.

“How about we go out and spend some time in town?”

“I—I, uh—“

“I’ll just get showered and we’ll go, all right?”

She nodded dumbly at him and he sprinted to the shower before she could object.





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