I nod, swallowing the huge lump that formed at hearing the results.

“There’s only one line.” I drop my head against his chest, and he immediately picks me up and carries me down the hallway. “I’m sorry, love. Are you sad?”

I nod as he places me down on the bed. He settles on top of me as I lay back on the pillow. “I really thought I was pregnant, but I guess I’m just losing my edge when it comes to drinking. How depressing is that?” I look up at him and run my fingers through his hair, taming the wild mess. “Are you sad?”

He shrugs once, his finger tracing my jaw. “A little. But I think I’d be really fucking worried if you were pregnant and went out drinking like that last night. Did you stop taking your birth control?”

I shake my head and bring my hands down to his shoulders. “I got my last shot almost three months ago. If you wanted to start trying now, I just wouldn’t get it again.”

He smiles, dropping his head and kissing my lips. His tongue trails along my bottom one before he nips it. I whimper and he moans softly. “I want to start trying. Right now.” He sits back between my legs and removes his shirt. “How effective is that shot?”

I furrow my brows, confused by his questioning. “Umm, like 98% I think. Why?” He sits me up and pulls at the hem of my tank top, his boastful smile growing. “Oh, you think your super sperm can get through my defenses, huh? Is that it?”

He tosses my shirt and crawls on top of me, pressing his lips to my stomach. “Nothing stands in my way, love. Modern medicine included.” His fingers work at my jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them. “And I’m always up for a challenge. Fuck that 98%.”

I giggle as he slides my jeans and panties off. “Reese?”

“Yeah?” He keeps his head down as he unbuttons his shorts. When I don’t answer immediately, he lifts his gaze to me and his smile fades.

I bite the inside of my cheek, straining to keep the serious face I have on. “You know we can’t have sex when I’m pregnant, right?”

Oh, I’m devious.

He freezes after dropping his shorts and boxers. “I can’t fuck you for nine months? Are you serious?”

“Yeah. It’s not good for the baby. You could poke it and stuff.”

He strokes his jaw, dropping his gaze to the floor. “Why haven’t I heard about this?” he asks himself. He drops his hand, slapping his thigh and lifts his head. “Well, can we do other stuff during that time? There’s no way in hell I’m going to be able to keep my hands off you for that long. Not happening. We’d have to live separately.”

My body begins to shake with my silent laughter as I cover my face with my hands. I feel the bed dip and slide my hands down, seeing his curious expression above me. I smile wide and continue laughing. “I’m sorry. That was too easy. You should’ve seen your face.”

He looms over top of me, dark and dangerous, and my laughter quickly fades out. “Oh, you’re going to pay for that one, Sparks.”

I reach up and grab his face, bringing his lips to mine. “Bring it on, Carroll.”

He totally brings it.

15

Reese wasn’t kidding when he said he was up for a challenge. I’m pretty sure some orgasm-giving record was broken last night by him. Every time I came, it seemed to drive his need to do it again and again. He was relentless, fucking me until he didn’t have anything left to give me. Literally. I’m fairly certain the man is out of viable baby-makers today. And he didn’t need time to recharge between sessions, either. While I was panting on the bed, the couch, and in the shower, trying to catch my breath and needing a moment to regroup, he was bouncing on his feet like a boxer, amped and ready for the next round. I’ve never seen him so geared-up for sex before, so I gotta give it to the man. When he sets his mind on something, he definitely goes for it.

Hard.

My vagina is screaming for an ice pack as I make my way down Fayette Street and toward the bakery to meet Joey for our daily run. Running always helps me keep my sanity, and I’m going to need it with the week I have prepared. Not only is my wedding in five days, but Brooke is also starting today, and besides that, I’m feeling bloated and terrified of the possibility of not squeezing into my lace masterpiece of a dress tonight at my final fitting. I’m not even sure alterations can be made this close to the big day. And it has to fit. I’m wearing that dress. It’s the dress. The one Juls made me try on all those months ago when we were shopping for her wedding gown. The one I desperately tried to not picture myself walking down the aisle toward Reese in. The one I was always meant to wear. So my injured vagina can hate me all she wants, but I’m pushing myself during this run.

After parking Sam behind Joey’s Civic, I round the corner and see my dear assistant bouncing around on his feet in front of the bakery. He turns his head, smiling when he sees me, and flattens his palm against the glass window as he stretches his hamstrings.

“Morning, cupcake. You look freshly-fucked.”

I wince at his sentiment, mimicking his position and grabbing my ankle behind my back. “That’s an understatement. I think Reese broke my vaj.”

He switches legs, raising an eyebrow. “I just pictured the weirdest image.” He seems to picture it again, blinking several times as he stares off past me. I laugh, prompting him to bring his focus back to me as he bends at the waist and reaches for his toes.