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“I’ll buy you new ones.”
“You don’t have to keep buying me things.”
“But I want to. Especially if it means I get to look into your pretty eyes. They remind me of honey and sunshine and daisies.”
She flushed. “You don’t have to say things like that.”
“Like what? That I think you’re beautiful? That I love the color of your eyes? That my dick is so hard from just kissing you? Sorry. But it’s all true.”
She finally looked away, pushing gently at my chest and moving to soothe Jeremy, who’d gotten a little fussy.
“We shouldn’t, I mean, we’re not…” She cleared her throat. “We’re not going to sleep together, Zeke. That can’t happen. Never again.”
24
Presley
Instead of being upset, Zeke looked amused. There was a playful smile on his face as he said, “Never ever?”
I made a face. “You weren’t the one with nine months of twenty-four-seven morning sickness, swollen feet, and stretch marks. Don’t even get me started on childbirth. I’d like to avoid going through that again at all costs.”
“Fair enough.” He ran a finger along my cheek. “But there’s lots of stuff we can do that won’t get you pregnant.”
I swallowed.
How was he so irresistible?
I was so tempted.
And so, so horny.
I’d been horny when I was pregnant too.
Not that I’d tell him that.
“Don’t tell me you weren’t turned on just now.” He made a trail with his finger, sliding down my throat, along my collarbone, and then stopping at one of my very hard nipples. “Your eyes are glassy. Your nipples are hard. And I’ll bet if I touched your pussy, you’d be soaked.”
“Zeke!” I glanced at Jeremy, who seemed content again, thumping his little fists on the table in front of him.
Zeke chuckled, a warm, rich sound that turned me on even more. “He doesn’t understand. Not yet anyway.”
“No, but I still don’t think this is a good idea.”
“What? Us making love?”
“Look what happened last time. I don’t want to ever be in that situation again.”
“Pregnant or alone?” he asked softly. “Because while I can’t one hundred percent guarantee the first won’t ever happen, I absolutely can the second.”
“Sex just isn’t a good idea,” I mumbled, though my eyes followed his finger as it moved to my other breast, rubbing lightly against my taut nipple.
“I think you’re wrong. In fact, it’s a great idea.” He used his finger expertly to tease me, making my breath come faster and my heart rate kick up. Even through the fabric of my thin sweatshirt, my breasts ached with need, anxious for more. Why had I thought not wearing a bra was a good idea? I’d assumed the sweatshirt would sufficiently cover my breasts. But I hadn’t anticipated this type of direct contact. “I think a few orgasms are exactly what you need to relax. And what we need to reconnect.”
“Wh-why would we do that?” I whispered shakily. My resolve was melting away faster than my panties probably would, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
“Because we have a son,” he said, his voice dropping a few octaves as he backed me against the counter. “Because I’ve thought about that night we spent together more than you’ll ever know.” He dragged the fingers of one hand through my hair, ending at the back of my neck and squeezing lightly. “Because you want me as much as I want you. All you have to do is admit it.”
“I do,” I whispered miserably. “But I don’t want to get pregnant again. It’s almost a phobia. That’s how terrifying the thought of having sex again is in that regard.”
