Page 47 of Strike Zone

“It really doesn’t matter.” I can’t stress that fact enough.

“Right. IUD. I’m not sure I can watch you walk away again after feeling you skin to skin.”

“I’m here asking you to fuck me.” He swallows my words, reaching for the zipper on my jeans before shoving them to the floor along with my panties. He’s about to reach for my top when I distract him, leading him to the bed. I’m scared to have his imposing frame bearing down on me in case he squishes the baby somehow, so I bend over the end of the bed, spreading my legs for him.

“Is this the porno version of that movie with Julia Roberts, where she says she’s standing in front of a boy, that English twat, asking him to love her?”

“Do you want to talk chick flicks or have sex?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?”

I’m bent over, half-dressed, with my ass in the air, and he’s talking shit, literally talking about shit. “Linc, how can you go from being insanely sweet and romantic to having verbal diarrhea?”

“You make me nervous.”

“You? Lincoln Nash.” Looking over my shoulder, I catch his gaze, watching as it darkens and the nerves fall away, leaving only the fierce lover I know him to be. As he moves toward me, taking his cock in hand, a jarring realization dawns on me.

“What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Your face is saying something.”

“How many women have you slept with since the last time we were together?” I don’t want to shame him, and I really don’t want to know, but I can’t sleep with him unprotected if he hasn’t been tested recently or, God forbid, slept with another woman bareback. I don’t think I could handle knowing that.

“You’re slut-shaming me right now? I asked about condoms, and you said it’s fine. Fucking hell, Diana, you’re the most infuriating woman on the planet.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

“How many guys have you been with? I don’t even want to know the answer because it would shred me. I fucking care!”

“No one. There’s been no one since you, Linc.”

He breathes an audible sigh of relief, dragging his hands through his hair as he begins to pace the floor. I turn and perch on the end of the bed, reaching down to the floor for my jeans and panties. I ruin everything I touch.

“It’s been months.”

“I know. I can count.”

“Is that normal for you?”

“You still haven’t answered the question. How many women?” I put one foot into my panties, but he stares me down.

“Not so fast.”

“What?”

“There’s been no one else, Diana. Since that night when I felt you skin to skin, you ruined me. I haven’t slept with anyone.” I’m struggling to understand, to take it all in. Linc isn’t the kind of man who goes months without sex, and rarely goes a day without offers.

“Why?”

“I haven’t even thought of sleeping with another woman since I got a taste of you that first night in Vegas.”

“Really?”

“You’re exquisite, Diana.” He stops pacing and walks over to the bed, offering his hand when I stand to face him. “Give me a chance to get to know you.” He reaches for the hem of my hoodie, but I’m quick to stop him.

“Can I keep it on?”

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