Page 100 of The Perfect Mistake

His lips move over my ear, my neck. “That wasn’t one of your highlighted fantasies,” he murmurs against my shoulder. “Vanilla missionary sex.”

Yes it was, I think. It just wasn’t on my Kindle.

Alec pushes up onto an elbow. His skin is flushed, and the tension that I’m so used to seeing mar his forehead is wiped clean.

His eyes suddenly narrow. “Shit. Condom.”

“I’m on birth control.” I run a hand through his thick hair.

“You are?”

I nod, raking my fingers across his scalp. “Yes. Being a ballerina and getting your period every month isn’t super helpful. I’ve skipped my periods for years.”

“Oh.” He frowns. “Is that safe?”

“Yes, I think so. It’s common, at least.” His concern makes me smile. Somehow my wellbeing is always his first thought, whenever I do anything. Let Mac drive you. Is your hip okay? Are you safe?

He rolls us onto our sides, keeping his hips locked to mine, and still buried inside me. “I can’t believe I forgot.”

“Swept up in the moment.”

“Yeah,” he says. But he’s frowning, like he can’t recall the last time that happened.

“What if I told you that was part of the fantasies?”

His eyebrows drop lower, and a languid, macho smile spreads across his lips. “Interesting.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

“For now.” He kisses me again and slowly pulls out of me with a twist of his hips. I lie on my back and watch him head to my bathroom. The water turns on a second later, and soon he returns, a washcloth in hand.

He’s matter-of-fact about it, pushing my legs apart. His gaze lingers on the warmth leaking out of me. “I get it,” he says. There’s a hoarseness to his voice. “That part of the fantasy… I definitely get.”

He’s gentle as he wipes me clean, and then he tosses the cloth aside. He remains sitting on the edge of my bed with his hand in mine.

I want to ask him to stay.

I don’t know if he will.

He never has before.

There are kids in the other room, kids that sometimes wake up and knock on his bedroom door in the middle of the night. It’s also a boundary. Another layer between us that we’ve used, one that keeps things neat and orderly. That keeps this from being a romantic relationship. And we’ve discarded one layer tonight already.

I wrap both of my hands around his familiar one. “Stay with me a while longer.”

He looks down at our hands, resting together on the cover of my bed. For a drawn-out moment, I don’t think he’ll answer.

But then he nods. “Get into bed.”

I climb beneath the covers, into the familiar softness of my bed. He slides in after me with a quiet sigh. He pulls me against him, tucking my head beneath his chin, and wraps an arm around me.

I close my eyes against his shoulder as his hand draws soothing circles along my body. Tomorrow, I know the sadness will return. The questions about what I’d learned tonight will flood me. The fear over my future.

But right now I feel nothing but an overwhelming exhaustion.

His mouth is warm over my temple. “Be good for me one final time,” he murmurs, “and fall asleep.”

That makes me smile against his skin. Always bossy. But it doesn’t take me long to do what he’d asked and drift away in his arms.

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