Disclaimer: I claim no right to the Glee universe or any other copyrighted material present in this story. Thank you so much for your readership and I'm sorry this chapter took so long. School and work kicked my ass during December. Please Review!

Puck hated the sick feeling in his stomach as Rachel looked him straight in the eye and told him that she thought he was dangerous. Instantly, he felt the full weight of the legacy his father had left him. He remembered his mother trying to hide her face from him when he got home from school, the dark bruise on her cheek still showing through the layers of makeup. He remembered his father yelling wildly and throwing everything within reach without a care to whether it hit someone or not. He saw Rachel recoiling from his touch, a lesser degree of that same fear his mother carried evident in her eyes.

Immediately, he had locked down on his emotions, the pleasant heat generated by the contact with her body hurting against the sudden iciness of his own body. Carefully controlled, he lifted her up and set her on her feet. She didn't want him. How could she when she obviously though that he was no good?

He kept his jaw shut tight as he laid his guitar in its case and clicked it shut. Her words hurt far more than he would have thought and it was all he could do to get out of her house before things got worse. He slung his case over one shoulder and left her room. He ignored her cry of "Wait!" and kept going, wanting to be out of the house and far away when his control snapped. He hated knowing he possessed the same destructive gene as his father. Never would he consciously hurt her, but he couldn't be sure of what would happen if he really lost control. The door was just a few yards away and soon he would…

"Noah!"

Against his will, his feet stopped moving even though his hand was on the door and he was barely inches from freedom. Completely irritated that she had this power over him, he snapped, "What?"

"What are you talking about?" she said, the words coming in light pants. "Why are you leaving?"

He stared at her for a second, drinking in the soft rosy tint on her cheeks and the slightly more obvious rise and fall of her chest with her breathing. He felt sick. "I know I'm not Finn, okay?" he growled. "But I'm not the kind of guy to hurt a woman. I'm not the delinquent asshole everyone thinks I am. Sure, I'm a jerk sometimes," he admitted as she opened her mouth. "But, that 's not the only thing I am." He yanked the door open, fully intending to make tracks, but she threw herself in front of him and slammed the door shut.

Her dark eyes flashed with determination and a little bit of confusion as she told him, "I never asked you to be Finn. And I don't think you'd ever physically hurt me. You can't say that you haven't done it emotionally, because you have, but that's a discussion for another time. I don't think you're only a jerk."

That threw him off and instead of gently moving her aside and continuing on his intended path, he snarled, "Then why the hell would you call me dangerous?"

"Because you are," she said. Puck swallowed hard, preparing for years of bad karma to drop on his head, but her next words caused the bottom to drop out from his stomach. "Because in one day, you've managed to turn my world upside down. Because I can't imagine what you could do if you had more time. Because, "she whispered, only inches away from him. "I want to take that chance." And rising up on her toes, she took his face in her hands and pressed her mouth to his.

His legs had nearly buckled in surprise when she so carefully placed her palms along his jaw and pressed her lips to his own. He had in fact been so surprised that he hadn't had the presence of mind to react in any way at all. Never had he thought that Rachel would actually respond to him so quickly, or even at all. Yet, here she was, tiny and crazy and gorgeous, giving him exactly the opening he needed and he couldn't take advantage of it. He could most definitely taste the sweetness of her lip gloss and feel the softness of her skin, but there was no way he was moving...except for maybe his hand, which released the guitar strap and did nothing to stop it from crashing to the floor. He couldn't quite care. And something else...but he had no control over that either.

She broke the kiss, leaning back and watching his reaction warily. He was sure that she wasn't getting much because his brain was still shorted out. It had been different in the Glee room. He had been in control; he was the one taking the tactical edge and ambushing her delicate sensibilities with the raw sexuality he knew he oozed. Somewhere in his brain a little part of him was sitting in a chair and leaning back at a ridiculous angle with his hands behind his head and nodding as if to say, 'Damn straight. No one can resist this.'

Rachel had never done anything as remotely risky in her life as kissing Noah Puckerman. In fact, her riskiest behaviour thus so far was limited to attempting to climb out her window just to see if she could sneak out should an occasion warrant it and driving ninety miles an hour (okay, so it was only fifty, but it was in a school zone!) down the street to school. But kissing him meant that her life had changed direction dramatically and there was no going back.

A significant sense of satisfaction warmed her as she heard the clatter of his guitar case on the tile of the foyer. Since he didn't move, she broke the kiss and inched back so that she could see his face. It was blank. She didn't know whether to be pleased or worried. After a few seconds, she opened her mouth to break the increasingly awkward silence, but the words never left her mouth. They were trapped inside, unable to escape because Puck had finally broken out of his temporary paralysis and moved to reciprocate her amorous attentions.

A few squeaks managed to leave her mouth, but he distracted her from her surprise and hesitation by overwhelming her senses. Her body practically melted as he took the lead, driving her mad with little licks and soft nibbles around the border of her lips. One of his hands slid up her back and into her hair at the top of her neck to cup the back of her head. The other pressed her closer and closer to him until she wasn't quite sure where she ended and he began. She gasped when she felt the stroke of his thumb on her bare back and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth. And she had thought it couldn't get much better.

It wasn't that she hadn't been French-kissed before. In fact, she and Finn had kissed several times and there was that one time, the first time, with a boy from her freshman biology class, but she preferred not to think about him. This experience of making out with her former tormentor was a little weird when she thought about it, but her concerns were swept aside by the unexpectedly gentle and undemanding caresses of his lips and tongue. She had definitely expected something much more frenetic and insistent. Encouraged despite her inexperience, Rachel opened her mouth a little wider and started to mimic his actions. The quiet groan with which she was rewarded make her a little bolder and she looped her arms around his neck.

"God, Rachel," he whispered softly against her lips and quickly swung her into his arms.

Rachel felt as though she were going to explode or disintegrate or cease to exist in some way, so intense were the desires raging through her body. She felt secure in his arms, confident that he wouldn't drop her or let her fall. She let her fingertips slide over his jaw and trace the line of his throat as he carried her into the living room. The tingles in the pit of her stomach grew even stronger as he sat on the couch and freed the arm under her knees to slide into her hair and pull her close for another searing kiss.

Wiggling across his lap to get even closer, she smiled at the low groan that issued from deep in his chest. His arms clamped down on her, pinning her to his lap and effectively halting her motion.

"You gotta stop that," he said, his breath coming in barely noticeable gasps.

Looking into his eyes, she saw a level of danger she wasn't ready for yet and nodded silently, properly subdued. She dropped her hands to her lap and waited for his cue.

With a small grin, he released her and pulled one of her hands back up to his face. "I didn't mean everything, just the wiggling." He pressed a kiss to the palm he held against his cheek and was rewarded with a soft smile.

Feeling much better about why he had stopped her, she leaned back into him and let him continue his work.

Her body hummed with familiar sensations, but somehow having Puck flipping the switches increased the voltage so that she was ever on the edge of bursting into flame. Every stroke of his fingers across the small of her back or the back of her thigh brought her to the farthest point of her limits, but as soon as she thought she was going to break apart into a thousand pieces, he stilled his hands or pulled away from her mouth for a quick breath. Those few seconds were always just enough to bring her almost all the way back down and then he would begin the process again.

Time passed without meaning until they both were panting and trembling lightly. Rachel had the vague thought that it was a good thing she had such an experienced guide on her first significant foray into exploring her sexuality as part of a pair, but as the thought occurred to her, she realized exactly what she was doing and panic suffused her entire body.

'WHAT THE HELL?!?' screamed the rational part of her brain. There was no buffer zone to cushion her from the full impact of her actions, and for all she knew, he was just using her to prove he could get anyone, any time. Tomorrow, he would be laughing with his jock buddies about how easy it had been to get into her pants.

Sure, he appeared all sincere and sweet now, but what would really happen when he left her house tonight? Was he really interested in pursuing something with her as his eagerness to be close to her indicated or was it all an act? She had seen how he treated the girls at school and she knew that most of them had succumbed to his charms at one time or another. And she had heard him bragging about those conquests on more than one occasion. The thought of him speaking of her in such a way doused the fire in her blood and forced her to take a step back.

Heart pounding from the high, but conflicting emotions, she broke away from him and scrambled off his lap to her own seat on the couch. Ignoring his groan of protest, she grabbed a couch pillow and wrapped her arms around it, using it as a barrier between herself and the most dangerous man in Lima, Ohio.

Puck let out his habitual groan as she removed herself from his grasp and gained her own seat at the far end of the couch. He turned to her, ready to protest her leaving him high and dry, but the words turned to ash in his mouth as he saw the expression on her face. She clutched a pillow to her chest like a talisman and her eyes were wide with the fading remnants of arousal and the rising glow of panic.

Confusion and frustration filled his mind as he tried to consider every possible reason for her sudden reluctance. He couldn't grasp a clear thought while he was still so worked up, but he definitely tried.

As he watched her, the heat of passion faded completely only to be replaced by a fearful and calculating look. He only hoped that she would tell him what was on her mind before she blamed him for something he didn't know he had done wrong.

She really was beautiful, he thought as he waited for her to speak. She sat there with those smooth, muscular legs mostly exposed beneath the rumpled fabric of her skirt. Her skin was still lightly flushed, her lips reddened and puffy, and her hair in perfect disarray. He really wanted to kiss her again.

"How do I know you're serious?"

Her voice was quiet and flat as she looked straight at him.

He just blinked for a few seconds as the complete 180 caused his brain processes to slow to a crawl. "What?"

She sighed. "How do I know that you're serious about this? About me?" She combed the fingers of one hand through her hair, smoothing it out and pulling it out of her face.

He wasn't sure what to say. Girls had asked him that before and he had always lied, saying "Sure, baby, I want only you," or "Of course, I'm not seeing anyone else," or even, "I'll call you tomorrow. I promise." But none of those usual responses were appropriate anymore. The majority of him was offended that she question him and his motives as the truth was so glaringly obvious to him, but there was that small part of him that acknowledged that she had a point and that it would take more than his usual lines to convince her of his commitment.

Rachel huffed and squeezed the pillow tighter. "I'm not asking for marriage here, Noah, but I'm not some body to use and discard." Her face scrunched as though the thought hurt. "I'm not Santana or any of the other girls at this school to which sex means nothing. I want a relationship. I don't want to be another notch on your bedpost."

Puck felt the usual irritation bubble up inside him at her words. Every time some girl said that, he felt trapped and as a result, he would promise her everything with his words and take what he wanted only to crush her the next day. With Rachel it was different. Somehow when she said those words, it struck home and he wanted to reassure her.

He scooted a little closer to her and pried one hand loose from the pillow to hold in his own, deciding to use the truth to try to get what he so desperately needed. "I don't know what you want me to say."

Her mouth twisted in a sad smile. "You don't have to say anything. I just can't be another locker room story."

Never had he regretted his past actions as much as he did that moment. "You won't be," he said. She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. "I get that you can't trust me right now. That's completely my fault. But can you give me a chance? I can't promise anything, but I can try. We'll take it slow and -"

Any further words were cut off by the gentle pressure of her mouth on his. The kiss was soft and sweet and when it ended, Puck felt for the first time that he had done something right.