"I'm good, but I ain't that good," he chuckled against my lips. "You kinda need to get naked with me here, baby –"

"I'm serious," I croaked out. "I don’t want you to see me like this."

He pulled back to frown at me. "Like what?"

"Ugly."

His eyes remained locked on mine for the longest moment as he digested my words. "You can't be serious?"

Mortified, I nodded.

He shook his head, looking pissed now. "There ain't one single part of you, inside or out, that's ugly, Molly Peterson."

"You're just saying that because you're my friend –"

"Correction. I'm saying that as the guy who wants to get inside you," he countered hotly. "I want in you so damn bad that I've never been so hard in my life." A growl of annoyance escaped him when I looked at him disbelievingly. "Oh, you think I'm lying?" he challenged, and then reached for my hand before pressing it against his bulging hard-on. "Feel that?" he growled, thrusting himself against my palm. "That's for you."

"Really?"

"No, Molls, it's for your comforter." He rolled his eyes. "Hell yes, it's for you."

A soft laugh fell from my lips and he grinned.

"Trust me." Leaning down, he kissed me deep and slow before pulling back once more. "Trust me."

Trembling, I let him pull me into a sitting position. Daryl's eyes never left mine as he reached for the hem of my shirt once more and slowly pulled it over my head.

His lips closed over mine again and then I felt his hands on my back, unclasping my bra, and revealing my body entirely to him.

My burns...

My scars…

My ugliness…

Fear spiraled inside of me.

Every insecurity and imperfection I had was on full display for the person whose opinion meant more to me than anyone else in world.

Tears sprang to my eyes and I quickly clenched them shut. Shame and self-loathing filled every inch of my body. I knew what I looked like. My arms and legs were severely scarred from the fire. One of my breasts was charred and crinkly. The disfigured skin of the right side of my chest and stomach was a horrible reddish, purple coloring.

"It's okay." Sniffling, I flopped back down on the mattress, fully expecting what Daryl was seeing to sober him up and run for the hills. "You can go now."

That wasn’t what happened.

"Open your eyes."

I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

"Molly Sue Peterson, you better open your eyes right now and look at me, dammit."

Reluctantly, I did.

"You are beautiful." Still kneeling between my jean-clad thighs, Daryl cupped my face in both hands and pressed a hungry kiss to my lips. "You are so fucking beautiful it hurts."

I shook my head. "Don’t lie. I look like a monster –"

"Don’t call me a liar," he growled and claimed my lips again; his kisses hungrier and more desperate than earlier. "Just lay there and let me show you how fucking much you make me ache."