I don’t pull away. I suction harder, satisfaction flowing through me as he swells in my mouth, flooding it with warm liquid. Swallow quickly because him warning me, him not expecting me to, makes me want to even more. Keep sucking once his cock is clean, until he starts to harden again.
Sawyer sits up, reaching for me and pulling me onto his lap. He kisses me hard, urgently, sliding a hand in my hair and tugging the strands. His grip is demanding, and so is his tongue. He’s a current I allow myself to get swept away in, even knowing it’s dangerous.
I swivel my hips, begging for more against his mouth. He came, but I haven’t, and I woke up wet, as soon as I realized I was in bed with him.
His hands slide from my hair down my back, finding my hips and adjusting me. And then I feel him there, and it feels so good that I can hardly stand it. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, breathing heavily as that delicious stretch starts.
Suddenly, Sawyer freezes. “I’m not—I need a condom.”
I still too, stunned that it never occurred to me. “Right,” I say quickly, lifting my pelvis so he slips out. Move away a few inches as Sawyer reaches for the drawer next to his bed. Stare at the comforter as I hear the crinkle of a wrapper.
“You’re, uh, you’re on birth control, right?”
I glance up, flipping the strands of hair that fell in my face over my shoulder. “Of course.”
Relief spreads across his face. “Okay. Good.”
He reaches for me again, and I go willingly, letting pleasure wash away the bitterness of my lie.
But a little lingers as I slump on the sheets after. As Sawyer kisses me a final time, then leaves for work.
If I told him the truth, he might have asked,Why?
And I don’t think that’s a question he wants the answer to.
40
“Can you get pregnant from just the tip?”
Gia lowers her mimosa and starts coughing.
Nope, I realize a few seconds later. She’s not coughing; she’s laughing.
“God, I missed you, Wren,” Gia tells me, literally wiping tears from her eyes. “Life when you’re in England is so boring.”
I roll my eyes, reaching for my own flute of orange juice–flavored champagne.
“Can you drink in your condition?” Gia mock whispers.
I glare at her, downing most of the glass just to prove a point. We’re tucked away in a private corner of the patio, so close to the water that the briny breeze keeps attempting to steal our linen napkins, but we’re not the only ones sitting out here.
“Mrs. Danvers would be so disappointed,” my friend continues, referring to our former health teacher. “The tip is the only part that can get you pregnant.”
My stomach does an uncomfortable shimmy. A side effect of the bubbles probably. The odds that I got knocked up this morning are extremely low. I just became accustomed to no odds—the sole upside of celibacy. And I figured Gia would laugh off the possibility, not reference an anatomy lesson.
“Pierre was too impatient to wrap it, huh?” Gia smirks, taking another sip of her drink. “That’s hard to picture.”
Gia only met Pierre once. She visited over New Year’s, and we went clubbing. Danced while Pierre dutifully watched our drinks, even though I tried to pull him out with us. Gia’s not wrong—that glimpse of his personality was pretty accurate.
“Pierre and I broke up.”
She nods, not looking terribly surprised. “You broke it off because of Italy?”
“I was planning to. Then he proposed.”
That sets off another round of hacking giggles. “Oh. My. God.” Gia reaches for her glass, realizes it’s empty, then motions to the waiter for a refill. “Ring, one knee, the whole shebang?”
“Yeah.”
