“Yeah.”
“But you’re not pregnant.”
“I’m not?” he asks, staring down at his stomach. “Are you sure?”
I pat his stomach, his rock-hard stomach, and swallow hard. Wow, that’s a lot harder than I remember. Not that he was flabby by any means on his birthday, but that’s quite the flat stomach he has. “Uh, no . . . no baby in there.”
“Odd, I thought I was pregnant.”
“Stop it.” I poke him this time, which makes him laugh. “You don’t need that pregnancy book.”
“Uh, hell yeah, I do. I might not be carrying the child, but I’m still experiencing things. Plus, it will be entertaining. Something to do when I’m in my hotel room by myself. Or when I’m waiting for you to be done in the bathroom. Which, by the way, you take a long time. If we were at my place, we would have our own bathrooms, and that wouldn’t be a problem.”
“I would not be comfortable in your place.”
His brow scrunches together. “Why not?”
“It’s big.”
“It’s a two-bedroom. I wouldn’t call that big. You should see some of the places the other guys have. My apartment is incredibly modest.”
“And the fireplace would just taunt me, chanting over and over this is where you had sex, this is where you got pregnant.”
“You think it was in front of the fireplace? I thought it was in my bed.”
“Why do you assume the bed?”
“Well”—he tucks the book under his arm—“for one, we didn’t penetrate much in front of the fireplace. If you recall, we went from there to the wall, where you came first, and I followed closely after.”
My cheeks heat immediately as I glance around to make sure no one is listening.
“And then after that, we went to my bedroom where, as you put it, I jack-hammered into you. You said the pounding was so hard. That’s how the condom broke.”
“I didn’t.” I lower my voice and whisper, “I didn’t say it like that.”
“Along those lines, you did. So I don’t think it was the fireplace. It was definitely the bed. That’s where you had the biggest orgasm too.”
My cheeks are so hot right now that I actually feel like you could fry an egg on them. And not only are they heated with embarrassment, but the image of Eli pulsing into me also floats through my brain. I have this strange pulse developing between my legs, an awareness, a yearning that I didn’t think I needed or wanted since I found out I was pregnant.
But it’s there, reminding me of that night, of the best sex I ever had. The feel of his strong body, taking charge, demanding from me, but also making sure my needs were taken care of. The feel of his long, hard length in the palm of my hand. How soft but firm he was. The way his teeth dragged over his lip when I smoothed my hand down to his balls. Or how he slowly moved inside me, allowing me to adjust to his size, but then took no mercy when he was fully inside. Pound after pound after pound . . .
The sweat that beaded between us.
The grasp of his hands on my hips, indenting to the point of pleasurable pain.
The delicious moan that vibrated from his chest . . .
“Are you okay?”
“Huh?” I ask, my eyes shooting to his. Oh my God, how long was I daydreaming?
“Your face is all flushed. Do you need some water?”
“Water?” I croak out.
“Yes.” His eyes grow concerned as he bends at the knees to look me in the eyes. His hand falls to my shoulder, and it feels like a total lightning bolt of lust zapping through me.
I immediately step away. “Uh, I can get my own water. Be right back. Stay here. Don’t come and get me.”
“Penny, wait, what’s going on?”
“I just have to pee. You can’t assist me with that, so stay put.”
“But do you need water?” he calls out.
I wave behind me. “I’m fine.” And I take off toward the bathrooms, where I pull my phone out and lock myself in a stall. I send a quick text to Blakely because something is happening to me, and I don’t like it.
Penny: SOS! Something just happened to me.
Within seconds, Blakely’s name is scrolling across the screen.
“Hello?”
“Are you okay? What’s going on?”
Talking quietly, I say, “I’m in the bathroom at the bookstore.”
“What are you doing in there?”
“Hiding from Eli.”
“Ohh-kay. Why are you hiding from Eli?”