I can't help it. Whenever I make love to Malcolm, fear washes back over me...what if this is our last time?

I was terrified at nearly losing him. All our time together hasn't been enough to show him how much I need him at my side, how I live for his smile, his touch, my name from his lips.

Now I think I'm scaring him. I scare myself sometimes, at how entwined we've become. Why am I the one with this desperate need to feel alive...loved? I'd understand it from him.

I envy his acceptance, his implicit trust.

He's become voracious in bed. I know I satisfy him; the evidence is in his touch, in his eyes, and...well, everywhere else. Still he needs more, craves being even closer...as though trying to merge our souls as well as bodies.

I love him completely, but it's hard not to feel a bit inadequate against wave after wave of unrelenting desire and need. I know he loves me...was scared nearly to death that he'd lost me.

But I'm not as I was, so perhaps he has.

Is he trying to prove his love to me, or to himself?