Page 96 of Pucked Up Plans
When the pulses stop, I bring my head down, my eyes opening to find Walsh’s sated expression peering back at me.
My fingers tangle in his hair. “Thank you for not letting my fear win,” I whisper.
A smile graces his lips. “The pleasure’s all mine.”
Motioning down to where he’s still inside me, I ask, “Not as painful?”
“Nope. But damn, that was a lot. Hopefully, the condom can handle it all.”
His words seep in one by one, the exact meaning not clear immediately. But when it fully sinks in, I freeze. Literally, go still. About the same time, he grasps his mistake.
“Shit, Tate. No. It’s fine. I promise you, it’sfine.” He stresses the last fine, but I can’t help thinking it’s not. Nor can he make such a promise.
“You need to check.” He doesn’t move fast enough, so I repeat it, a little more harried this time. “Walsh, you need to check. Please.”
Yes, I sound desperate. Yes, it’s most likely irrational. No, I won’t apologize.
The frantic tone gets him moving. He pulls out of me carefully and takes off for the bathroom, presenting a splendid view of his ass I can’t even appreciate because I’m so worried.
When he returns, my clothes are back on. His body language conveys he doesn’t like it. He holds a washcloth in his hand, his expression giving nothing away. It makes me cagey not being able to read him. How can he be so nonchalant, so blasé? Why he is not freaking out? A pregnancy is the last thing he needs on top of everything in his life.
“Well?” I blurt.
His smile should be comforting, but it’s not. Even his “all good” does little to appease my fears.
I cannot get pregnant. Not now. Not when I’m navigating this new life. Oh, why was I so stupid? Why did I have to be so selfish and break my own rules? Why does he have to be so damn sexy and sweet?
Tears pool at the corners of my eyes. Concentrating on the ceiling, I blink rapidly, not wanting them to fall.
The bed dips next to me, Walsh’s hand falling on my thigh. His expression mirrors mine when I meet his eyes.
“It’ll be okay, Tate. Whatever happens. But I’m sure everything’s good. No tears or spills. Promise.” Not even his sad smile can elicit one from me.
“And if it’s not?” I can’t ponder the possibility if not, but it’s kind of hard not to.
He pulls me to his side. When did he put his clothes back on? “We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it. But please understand, my mouth got away from me. It was a stupid thing to say in the heat of the moment.”
“You think?” I retort. “So I shouldn’t be freaking out?”
His heavy sigh fills the room. “I can’t tell you how to feel. But based on what I cleaned up, I’d say we’re safe. I apologize for uttering something to make you freak out. Believe me, I understand what must be going through your head. And I’m sorry for putting it there. However, I won’t apologize for wanting to be with you. For wanting to have sex with you. That was fucking awesome, and if I haven’t ruined everything, I’d very much like to do it again with you.”
His comment makes me laugh. Not in a “ha ha” way, but ironically. I’m sitting here, barely able to think about anything else except for getting pregnant, and he’s cracking jokes about having sex again.
“Talk to me in a few weeks.” I go to stand up, but he tugs my wrist back. “I wasn’t ready.”
My words slap him in the face. “That’s not fair. I didn’t force you.”
I hate how he’s right and how disappointment infuses his tone and mars his handsome face. I have to own my emotions. He’s not to blame.
“I can’t get pregnant again, Walsh. I love Aubrey, I do, but I can’t do it again. Not on my own. Not with two of them.” Everyother thought dies on my lips as tears consume me. I don’t know how I end up in his arms—did I collapse or did he pull me there—but a certain peace sweeps over me with his hand rubbing my back. As if it would be okay. We could make it work. If.Ifwe get pregnant. I wouldn’t be alone this time.
“You’re not alone, babe. We’ll get through any consequences of our behavior together.”
I can’t be sure he intends to, but there’s so much emphasis on thewe,our,andtogether.
I pull my head back so I can see his face. His expression displays concern. “Why are you so sweet?”
“Ha. Hardly.”
