I glance at my guitar and shrug.
“And if that doesn’t work.” She finally takes a drink.
I interrupt her by stealing a kiss. I can’t help myself. I love the taste of her lips with wine on them. And cherry pie. And coffee. I love the fucking taste of her lips. Period.
By the time I pull away her eyes are heavy with desire. She gets aroused so easily. “And if that doesn’t work…?” I remind her.
“Oh.” She raises the glass to her lips again and inhales deeply. She requires a moment to pick up her train of thought. “Oh, yeah. She said I should try sex. If I lay on my side, she says, it makes the baby a little uncomfortable. Sometimes they turn. Of course, it helps if I have an orgasm.” She caresses the lip of her glass with her fingertip. “Or two. Stimulates contractions to help the baby move…”
I’m blinking into space right now.
The way I see it, if either of these two things could help, we ought to try both.
“No pressure.” She glances at me from beneath long thick lashes. “I could always use my headphones.”
She’s lost me for a second. Oh, yeah, for the music. Not the other.
Except as I contemplate the contents of my shaving bag, I realize I’m lacking a vital necessity.
“Shit.” I pound my fist on the granite counter top and look around for my wallet. “I don’t have any condoms.” Which sounds insane, but I didn’t come up here for sex. I came up here for… well I don’t know why I came up here.
The more I think about it, I haven’t fucked anybody for about three months. Not for lack of opportunity, but for lack of desire.
But at the thought of fucking Charlie. The fact that she needs me to… My heart skips a beat.
I need to find my wallet.
She tilts her head. “Are you… clean?” I’m having a hard time keeping up with her. Hard. The word has only one meaning to me right now.
“Clean?” I blink up at her. And then I get her meaning. “Oh, yeah.”
She tilts her head the other way. “Ya know. I’m pretty sure we’re safe then. Once in a lifetime opportunity for you. One hundred percent fail-safe birth control.”
The oven beeps, and I jump. Why’s it beeping? Lasagna. I was preheating it for the lasagna.
She’s grinning into her wine glass now.
“Are you messing with me?” Except I don’t think she is.
Her smile fades a little. “Just a few ideas… No biggy.”
This gorgeous girl. This fucking incredible, amazing, beautiful girl.
I turn off the oven and meet her gaze meaningfully. “I’m thinking lasagna can wait.”
Her eyes widen and then she blinks at me. She’s happy. I know her happy tears now. She’s teared up a couple times while listening to some of my songs.
Before she can move, I sweep her into my arms. Even eight months pregnant, she doesn’t weigh much.
“You’re sure?” She buries her head in my neck.
God, I love her scent. Sweet, clean. Charlie. “Reach down and you’ll find out.”
I carry her to the bedroom. I want to show her how sure I am.
She’s slipped her shoes off already. With her wearing a little sundress, I won’t have to work hard getting her naked.
Hard.
