Reece was totally in charge as his hand cupped my chin, guiding my head back and to the side. His thumb dragged over my lower lip, and I caught it, sucking it in deep.

He shouted something that would’ve blistered the ears of sailors and then he brought my mouth to his. His kiss—the way his tongue stroked mine—was no way near as fast as he moved inside me, but it was in no way less beautiful or devastating.

“I want to feel you come,” he said, his voice rough in my ear. “Do it for me, Roxy.”

Never in my life had a guy talked to me like that during sex, and I discovered in that moment, it did something for me. It did a whole lot, because when he pressed his mouth to the spot below my ear, release thundered through me, whipping through me, and his heavy groan in my ear was the first warning as his hips jerked wildly a second before he pulled out. Wet warmth spilled over my lower back. Tiny aftershocks swirled through me as his hand drifted lazily over my stomach. Neither of us moved for a few moments and then he carefully smoothed my hair over my shoulder, catching the strands that were falling into my face. I lowered my head to the pillow, letting him slowly ease me back down onto the bed, flat on my belly.

My head was buzzing when I heard him say, “Don’t move.”

Only a handful of seconds passed before I felt him wiping something soft across my lower back and rear. It dragged what sounded like a mewl out of me, because I was pretty sure every part of my body was overly sensitive now.

The bed shook as he flopped down next to me, and it took great effort for me to turn my head in his direction.

One arm was tossed over his eyes, and my gaze got hung up on that heavy bicep for a moment. He was smiling.

I smiled.

“Roxy,” he said, lowering his arm. He looked at me, his dark lashes so incredibly thick. I realized I never quite captured them that well when I painted them. “Are you on the pill?”

As the haze cleared from my head, my limbs suddenly went stiff as his question filtered through my thoughts. Are you on the pill? Yes. I was on the pill. I took it. When I remembered. There’d been a dry spell this last year, and I always used condoms, sooo I sometimes forgot to take it. When was the last time I forgot? Two weeks ago? Was it more than one pill? Oh dear baby Jesus, my heart started to pound.

“I wasn’t thinking.” He reached over with his other hand, rubbing his palm against my back. “I’ve never done that before. Swear to God, I’ve never forgotten to wear a condom.”

“Neither have I. I’m on the pill,” I said quietly. “But I . . . I think I missed a day or something a couple weeks ago.”

Reece didn’t spring out of the bed like his ass was on fire. He studied me a moment, then leaned over and rose up so he was hovering over me. He kissed my cheek. “I pulled out. We’ll be fine. And if that didn’t work . . .” He kissed the corner of my lips. “We’ll still be okay.”

Oh God.

Oh fuck me! Tears crawled up my throat. I don’t know why. I was so stupid. Maybe it was because he wasn’t freaking out about the slight chance that some sort of insemination just went down. Or maybe it was because he was so damn fucking—ugh—fucking everything.

I had sex with him again—unprotected sex—and I let my hormones get the best of me, and I still hadn’t told him the truth about that night.

He kissed me again and then playfully smacked my bum as he rose. “Come on. An orgasmic omelet awaits us.”

I stared at him from my prone position on my belly.

A boyish grin crossed his features as he rolled off the bed. He bent over, grabbing his pants off the floor. Pulling them on, he winked at me. “Mind if I use your toothbrush?”

At this point, did it matter if he did? “No.”

“Your ass better be out of this bed by the time I get done.” He then winked and turned, walking out of the bedroom.

Barefoot. Shirtless. His pants weren’t even buttoned!

I lay there for a moment, unsure of what I should freak out more over. The fact I was a bitch for still not telling him the truth or that I could’ve just gotten myself knocked up?

Okay. The knocking up part was highly unlikely and I needed to devote my freak-out energy to something more relevant—the whole bitch part.

When I heard the water turn off in the bathroom and the door open, I was the one who sprung from the bed like my ass was on fire. I’d just grabbed a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top when he appeared in the doorway.

I was still buckass naked, and he totally noticed.

Striding back into the bedroom, he wrapped one arm around my waist and lifted me up off my feet and kissed me. He tasted of mint and male, and I almost dropped my clothes.

“You’re moving too slow this morning.” Bending at the waist, he hoisted me up over his shoulder. “I have to intervene.”

I let out a shriek that was a half-startled laugh. “Oh my God, what are you doing?”

“Taking your sweet ass”—his hand landed on my ass, causing me to jerk—“yeah, this sweet ass to the bathroom.”

He pivoted around as I held on to my clothes for dear life and then walked my sweet ass to the bathroom, depositing me on my feet. His hands lingered though, on my bare hips and then my breasts. He made a deep sound in his throat as he lowered his forehead to mine. “Now I’m thinking about getting you in that shower and—”

“Go,” I laughed, pushing at his chest. “As much as I like the idea of us getting all wet and whatnot, we’re never going to get that omelet.”