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I shrug. “It’s a good thing I’m already married, huh? Especially when the whole word thinks I have diseases. You spent a lifetime on the fight circuit with me. Hell, you’ve been tested for your own fights. But suddenly, you have a brain fart and forget that I’m tested? That I was tested only a couple months ago for my fight.”
Her face flames hot. “I totally forgot.”
I shake my head and select one of the million forks surrounding my plate. “Can I ask you something now?”
“Sure, anything.” She starts on her pasta and smiles appreciatively. “Though, I don’t have any fetishes or STD’s, in case you were wondering.”
“Ha!” I roll my eyes and watch the way her lips wrap around her fork. “Do you remember that day I slept on your couch; when you woke up and went ballistic at me?”
“You mean the day I screamed at you in my underwear?”
I smile wickedly. “That’s exactly the day I mean. Why were you so mad?”
She scrunches her nose. “Can I pass on this question?”
“Why?” I smile as her face burns dark red. “What’s on your mind, Bubs?”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“You’re embarrassed about the reason you yelled? Or that you did it almost naked?”
“Both. Jesus, Jimmy! I was eight months pregnant. I had a huge belly and veiny skin and stretchmarks and–”
“You looked fucking amazing. I promise you that.”
“You can’t possibly think that.”
“Iz, we’ve made a lot of promises to each other, right? We keep them. We don’t lie to each other.” When she nods, I bring the beer to my lips. “Yeah, I’m telling you, you looked stunning. I swear, seeing you like that, spitting mad, so fucking passionate I was gonna explode…” I shake my head. “You almost broke me.”
“I had a sex dream about you.”
Beer dribbles from my suddenly stuttering lips. “You… What?”
“That day when I was mad at you, it was because I’d had a sex dream about you.”
“Why would that make you mad?”
“Because I woke up and it wasn’t real. Because I woke up with wet underwear and a shaking body and you weren’t there. And then youwerethere, but not mine. I was furious!”
“Bubs.” I groan into my hand. “Do you know what would’ve happened if, instead of throwing shit, you would’ve told me?” Fuck the fact she was eight months pregnant.
Pregnant chicks have sex.
Fuck the fact she was pregnant with another man’s baby. She was with himonce, but she’d always been mine.
“I would’ve helped you. I stood there wanting to fuck you. I would’ve begged if that’s what it would take. But I didn’t know. I didn’t know you wanted me.”
“You would’ve fucked me?”
“Like a wild dog. All my restraint, all my plans and rules and good intentions and bullshit reasons, they went out the window when you stood there most of the way naked. If I knew you wanted me, too… Jesus. If I knew you were warm because of me, I would’ve helped you.”
“What if I told you I was warm right now?” Her dark eyes warm. “What if I told you I wanted you now?”
“I’d probably make a mess of my pants.”
She snickers and tosses her napkin down. “You can never be serious, huh? Always joking.”
“I’d also be in pain,” I add seriously. “And desperately tempted to run your ass outta here and back to our room.”
