Page 48 of So Wrong It's Right

I climax like a star burning in the night sky. On fire and dying. Pouring myself into her, I feel the sweat cooling on my skin, hear the sounds of our harsh breaths sawing the air. I roll to the side before I collapse and crush her, my pulse rioting under my skin. My God. I feel like an animal.

“That was so hot.”

I’m coming back into myself. Remembering who I am. Where I am. “Did I hurt you?”

“Would you stop asking me that? Did I once say stop or get off me? No, you didn’t hurt me. You made me feel alive and awesome and a little insane. But you didn’t hurt me.”

We’re filthy and sticky and my heart is still pounding like I’m running a race.

Abruptly, my eyes fly open, the heat cools, and my breath catches. “Stella, I didn’t...shit...I didn’t wear a condom.” My hand flies to her abdomen.

“It’s okay. I’m on the pill,” she says lazily, falling asleep already.

It’s not okay. I was so reckless with her. I realize I don’t want her to be on the pill. I don’t want to wear a condom ever again, and I want my baby inside her. Now. But making that decision on my own, not thinking about the consequences, about what she wants and needs, was an asshole move.

But hell if I don’t want to fill her up with me again.

All my ideas about a sensible life, a moderate woman and well-behaved, planned children dissolve without me missing them. I want this. I want this crazy woman round and filled with my babies before we’re ready for them. I want spontaneous, laughter-filled hours with her in this fishbowl town. I want to roll my eyes every time she talks about her tarot cards for the rest of my life.

“Stella,” I say into the darkness, meaning to apologize for not pulling out. Instead, I say, “I love you.”

But she’s already asleep, so I curl around her and watch her dream. Hoping it’s me she’s dreaming about.

Chapter Nineteen

Stella

There is a little problemin the church vestibule.

Megan looks like she is about to kill everyone in a one-mile radius with her phone. She holds it out and screams at it. “What do you mean you’re in Las Vegas?”

Miranda and I exchange looks but neither one of us actually knows who she is talking to. Except that Dixie is late.

“Leo, how could you do this to me?” she screeches.

“I’m going to go get her some water. She’s going to need it.”

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