Catching Him(How to Catch an Alpha #1) - Aurora Rose Reynolds Page 0,44
but being inside you, connecting with you.” He shakes his head like he’s trying to get rid of the thought. “I’ll be more careful until you tell me we’re good.”
Can he be any more perfect? I doubt it, seriously.
“Thank you. That means everything,” I whisper, my emotions too high to speak any louder.
“Just so you know, baby, if we did make a child, I wouldn’t regret it for a second, not one goddamn second.”
My heart feels funny in my chest as I stare into his eyes. I know I’m not just falling for him; I’ve already fallen. I love this man. He’s every hope, dream, and wish wrapped up in the perfect man. Sure, he still makes me a little crazy from time to time, but I like that he does. I don’t think I would feel this way about him if he didn’t.
I want so badly to tell him that I love him, but I’m not sure right now is the time to admit something so huge. Not with him having to leave for work in just a few minutes. “Tyler—”
He cuts me off. “Tonight we’re going out. I don’t give a fuck about work or whatever else we have going on. I’m taking my girl out to dinner.”
“Are you asking me on a date or telling me we’re going on one?” I quip, and he grins.
“Take it how you want, baby, but we’re going out tonight.” He lets my hand go and takes another bite off his plate.
“So you’re telling, then.” I smile like an idiot.
He finishes his food, takes a sip of coffee, and then leans across the counter. He kisses me, tangling his fingers in my hair to hold me to him as he devours my mouth. When he lets me go, I let out a small sad whimper. “Wear a dress. I should be here at five thirty.”
“Got it,” I breathe out, and he smiles, then lets me go completely. He rinses his plate and puts it in the dishwasher, along with his coffee mug. When he comes back, he walks around the counter, drags me up out of my seat, and kisses me again before he releases me, says goodbye to Bruce, and takes off. I sit in my kitchen for a long time sipping coffee before I decide I’m going back to bed. I don’t have to work until ten, so I can still get a few more hours of sleep.
“Since you’re here and you’re due for your yearly checkup, I thought, if you’re okay with it, we could take care of your yearly physical and Pap smear today,” my doctor says with a smile. I have no idea what she’s smiling about. I hate this part of being a woman, hate lying on a cold piece of plastic covered with paper to be examined by someone I hardly know.
“Sure,” I agree, even though I don’t want to. I feel like I need more time to prepare for this, like it’s a pop quiz I didn’t have a chance to study for.
“All right, just pee in this cup and leave it in the little slot in the restroom.” She hands me a small cup and two wipes. “Change into this when you come back.” She hands me a folded gown. “After I get the results from your urine test and confirm you’re not pregnant, I’ll come back in and examine you, then write the prescription for your birth control.”
After I go to the bathroom and take care of business, I take a seat on the examination table and cringe as the paper that covers it crackles loudly in the quiet room. It seems to take forever for my doctor to come back, and when she does, she comes in with a nurse. She tells me that I’m not pregnant, then has me lie back on the table.
After she’s done with my exam, I sit up, and she gives me a rundown about the pill. She tells me the warning signs I need to look out for, then explains that Tyler and I need to be careful for the next month until my hormones adjust and to be sure to use condoms. But if either of us is having sex with anyone else, we should keep using condoms, she says, because birth control doesn’t protect against sexually transmitted diseases.
After she leaves the room, I get dressed. I have a client scheduled for two—a quick cut and blowout—and another client at three, who’s getting partial