“Sorry,” she says when she does it again.
I bring my head to her forehead.
“You’re killing me, sweetheart.”
“Why don’t you have anything?”
“I’ve never brought a girl here other than you. When we started dating, I thought about getting a box, just in case, but I didn’t want you to find them and feel pressured or uncomfortable. I sort of thought that we’d talk about it before we got here.”
“That’s the sweetest thing I think I’ve ever heard.”
I chuckle. “That’s me,” I sing. “Sweet and so, so stupid.”
“Eighty-Seven,” she whispers.
I sigh looking up at her. “Yeah, baby?”
“I’m on the pill.”
My brain short-circuits at the thought of taking her bare the first time.
“Since when?” I growl.
Her cheeks heat. “I had a routine appointment with Dr. Lambert to remove my stitches a few days after I came home from the hospital. She said everything was fine and gave me a list of things I shouldn’t do for a few weeks. Engaging in sexual activities was pretty high on the list.”
“Understandable,” I say.
“I told her I wasn’t sexually active but expressed my interest in the pill. She helped me make an appointment. I started taking it a week later.”
My brain doesn’t work, and my silence sends her into a spiral.
“I, uh… Dr. Lambert said some guys don’t enjoy wearing protection, and I didn’t know what you’d like. I considered asking you, but then I thought not doing anything would make things weird and you’d think I was a tease and I?—”
“Breathe, baby. Breathe,” I say when my brain remembers how to make my mouth work again.
“Are you mad?”
“Sweetheart, you just told me that you went on the pill so that I could have the option to choose how to take you,” I say with a grin.
“So you’re not mad?”
“No, Bookworm, I’m not mad. But that decision should be about you. It’s not up to me. It’s whatever makes you the most comfortable. Do you understand?”
“Have you…?”
“Never.”
“Do you want to?”
“I’d love nothing more than to be that close to you. To have nothing between us and spill myself inside of you and see how perfect you look marked asmine,” I say in her ear.
Her body shivers against me, and when I pull back and stare into her eyes, she rocks her hips into me just like I taught her. I let out a groan.
“Careful, sweetheart,” I say, but she does it again. “Erin.”
She moves her hips repeatedly until I lose it and pin her beneath me. I press into her.
Two can play this game, baby.
