The bed in the center of the room is huge and soft, and the creamy white covers are filled with rose petals Sebastian leaves every week, forming a simple diamond.

The diamond symbolizes me. He got the idea from my name--Crystal--saying that I really am a crystal, or, more accurately, a diamond. My soul is pure and rock-hard, he says. Unbreakable. Unshatterable. Untouchable by anyone but him.

I'm his diamond.

His angel.

And he's my savior.

Sebastian stops with his slow kisses after a minute. He pulls back and watches me for a while, taking me in, and I take him in too. He really is the kind of person I should be afraid of: handsome and slick and 100% mysterious. He's tough on the outside, like he's been through a lot. I can see it in the scar on his jaw, in the hardness of his skin and the gruffness of his voice. But something about him is so tender, so raw and real and hurt as I am, and it just makes me want to stay with him, heal him, maybe even love him so much more. I don't understand my feelings for Sebastian. I don't understand my attraction to him. But I think that's the point. Because if I don't understand it, I can never lose it like I did with everything else. And let me tell you this: I don't want to lose Sebastian.

I don't want to lose the one person I have left, even if I will never really know him.

"Want to hear a joke?" Sebastian asks after a while, with that distant look in his eyes, like he's thinking about me in as many inappropriate ways as I'm thinking about him.

I raise my eyebrow, biting back a smile. I never really could predict what Sebastian did or said. Maybe that's what I liked about him. I liked that he was so mysterious, so hard to make sense of. "A joke?"

"Yes, angel," he says, stepping back, seemingly deep in thought. "A joke. I'm capable of them too, you know."

I feel myself smile. "I'll be the judge of that."

"Okay." He moves closer to me, kissing my cheek ever so slowly, his tongue dragging against my skin, and then pulling back. "Ready?"

I savor the feel of him against me. "Ready."

His eyes light up a little. He's always liked challenges. "Knock knock," he says, watching me intensely.

I play along, hiding my smile. "Who's there?"

"Sebastian."

"Sebastian who?"

He doesn't take his blue eyes off of me as he says, "Sebastian who is not wearing any clothes."

I almost laugh. Almost. My heart skips a beat at the heat of his stare, feeling the tingles he gives me creeping into my skin. "Was that just a trick to get me turned on, Sebastian who is not wearing any clothes?" I say to him.

"Of course," he says, jaw tight, smile perfect and seamless. He keeps staring at me, dancing his tongue between either end of his mouth, and I'm so fascinated with the movements of his lips that I feel myself gravitating closer and closer to him. I can't resist him. I can't resist him and he knows it. "Now, more importantly," Sebastian says, "did it work?"

He's dressed in a tux and black bowtie, his dark pants smooth against his thighs. My eyes focus on the bulge in his pants, and I realize how much I want him there, but can't have him--big thanks to rule #1. I have to work not to squirm at thoughts of Sebastian and me, of him inside of me, and a blush comes over me, hard and warm.

When I was a kid, my parents were total workaholics. They were sports agents, always have been, and they always went on business trips, both across the U.S. and across the globe. Half of the week every week until I turned eighteen they were away from the house, away from me, leaving me at home and totally alone. Sometimes they never even told me they were leaving; they just left. But I still loved them. I still needed them more than anything, especially when I failed out of college sophomore year, and I had them, until two years ago.

Or at least, I told myself I loved them.

Whenever I was sad, I always used to throw myself into dance. I loved it with every fiber of my being. It was a part of me, a piece of my soul I couldn't reverse. The routines, the people, the bliss it gave me--all of it became one with my mind and heart. Dance helped me escape everything else, kind of like Sebastian does, but more than that, something about dance always pulled me in. There was something beautiful about all of the different movements and poses, something magical in the stories dance told. Dance made me feel free, made me feel alive, made me feel whole, but then I lost it, like I lost everything else.

Two years ago, after my parents were murdered in what the police determined to be a robbery, I felt like I had nothing left. Depression had eaten away at me for a long time, but I always clung to the fact that I still had people in my life, people that mattered to me, people that I couldn't leave, to keep me from doing anything to stupid. But then, just like that, all that was gone. And I had no one.

I was twenty the night I attempted suicide a few days after their murder, but it of course didn't work. I tried to jump off of our three-story building, to break myself and my body once and for all, but the only I thing I ended up breaking was my leg and all chance at ever dancing again. Now all that's left of me is a bunch of shards, shards Sebastian is trying to put back together.

Sebastian always told me that dance made me graceful, angelic, supple, like my movements were the key to a world filled with delight he wanted to unlock in me. He said I was an acrobat because of my dance past, and not just an acrobat in bed. He said something about me--the way I walked, the way I thought, the way I was--was so smooth and graceful, so perfectly wonderful, it was like I was always performing for him. And sometimes, just sometimes, I think he's right about that. In a way, I'm always performing for him, and I don't want to stop.

Sebastian is the audience member who I'm effortlessly pleasing, and he is returning the favor.

I take a step toward him now. He watches me carefully, with that hawk-like expression of his, waiting with a gentle amusement to see what I do next. "Yes," I whisper hoarsely. My eyes lock with his, and the connection I feel makes my heart speed up. "Yes, it worked."

Sebastian's eyes are on fire all of a sudden, burning into my skin. His gaze makes me feel so hot, inside and out, and suddenly all I want is to press against him again and more. I watch his lips come closer to me, feel the hardness between his thighs pressing against me. "Then do it," he growls, his eyes searching mine. "Take it off."

And holy hell, I don't need to be told twice.

I don't take my eyes off of him as I slowly slip off my dress. Quick and easy. Check. Then, ever so slowly, I unhook my bra. He watches me with such intensity it makes me want him even more as I unhook the first strap, then the second, and then, to his delight, the bra falls away, hitting the ground with a soft pat. I reach for my panties next, but instead he says, "Allow me."

Everything freezes in that instant. Everything slows. The space between us is totally gone, and it's like all of the air is sucked out of the room as Sebastian reaches his hand for my panties, tracing his finger along the soft skin on my inner thigh, tingles racing through me. I gasp and feel my back arch back, stopping and staring at him, wanting nothing more than for his fingers to inch up further and further. He touches my hot, tingling skin slowly, softly, like he's petting a bird's feather. His fingers move to my panties, and the next thing I know, they're slipped off. My panties hit the floor softly, but not once do I take my eyes off of Sebastian, and he doesn't take his off of me. We just stand there, staring. I'm totally naked now and I don't even care. My whole body is hot and tingly and humming with energy, and I'm full aware of the need coursing through me, the intensity between us. We stand there, not breathing, not moving, for what feels like eternity. Sebastian shifts his body closer to me. I can see he's as aroused as I am, can feel it in the electricity in the air. It's like we aren't even here anymore, like we've been taken into another dimension, one full of heat and desire and no air to breathe.

Finally, Sebastian takes off his clothes. He strips of his pants and tux before I can even blink. His undershirt is the next to go, and I find myself infatuated with the muscle rippling across his abs and chest, with the perfect arch of his body. Then, finally, he slips off his boxers. I gasp as soon as my eyes lock on his erection. It's not that I've never seen it before, but it never fails to turn me on. My belly feels hotter and hotter all of a sudden, like a deep and carnal tension waiting to be released.

He presses up against me then, his naked body against mine, his erection against my legs, so raw and real and vulnerable it makes everything else wash away. The wind continues to howl and I know it's totally freezing outside but in here, in this little room, in this safe zone with Sebastian, it's a furnace. Everything feels on fire. Everything feels so intense it's like I will die if I can't have him.

"Can I have you, angel?" he says fiercely, eyes burning into mine.

My heart rate picks up speed. "I'm all yours," I whisper, my body aching for him to touch me. And then he kisses me. Hard and passionate and real. I kiss him back, my lips numb and on fire all at once. I kiss him with such ferocity it's like kissing him is breathing, and I need to keep his lips and his body on mine if I want to keep myself from crumbling. My body buzzes with energy and desire, and his lips are hot and heavy against mine. His tongue tickles at my lips at first, then slips slowly into my mouth and I try to close my eyes and let everything else but this kiss slip away, but I can't stop staring into Sebastian's deep eyes. They're full of need. Hunger. So much it makes me work to keep from him touching me more.