Plan B (Best Laid Plans #2) - Jana Aston Page 0,18

liable to turn my toothbrush into a shank to murder me with if I don't get her off. So I wrap my hand in that perfect mane of dark hair and tug, just enough to cause the tiniest bit of pain. Just enough to energize a few nerve endings, then slide my other hand around her hip to her clit. Two fingers, around around around. She's slick and my fingers glide in rapid beats while my balls tighten and throb as I hold off until her mouth opens on a silent gasp, her shoulders drop and her pussy tightens around me and it feels like goddamned heaven. I'm right behind her, managing to hold on to my own release for mere seconds longer.

I rest my hands on the counter beside her head, catching my breath. Still inside of her.

I nip at the back of her neck with my teeth then stand, reluctantly pulling out of her as I do. She looks like a lewd fantasy bent over my counter, legs spread. I tuck the vision away in my memory as she makes a noise best described as a purr that quickly dissolves into a hiss as she stands.

"Did you seriously just fuck me without a condom?" She looks at me over her shoulder, glaring at me like it's possible to get pregnant twice before stomping over to the toilet, grabbing some tissue and wiping me off of her thighs.

Jesus, that's hot. Why is that so hot? What in the hell is wrong with me?

"What in the hell is wrong with you?"

"Relax," I mutter, shrugging as I tuck myself back into my pants simply because I'm sure the gesture will annoy her.

"Relax?" she deadpans. Yeah, she's annoyed. "Are you some special kind of idiot, Kyle? What if I was lying? What if I wasn't pregnant and you just impregnated me right this second? Huh? How many baby mommas do you have?"

"Are you lying?"

"No!"

"Okay. So that was a pointless conversation?"

"It wasn't pointless," she snaps. "The point is your uncovered dick. Are you one of those guys who pulls the condom off during? Did you even use a condom in Boston? Did you do this on purpose?" Her voice is ramping up in volume with each question until she's yelling. "WHY AM I PREGNANT, KYLE?"

Jesus. I rub a hand over my face and lean against the vanity. The hostility has gone out of her and she looks confused. She looks defeated.

"Do men do that?"

"Do what?"

"Any of what you just said?"

She bites her lip and crosses her arms over her chest. The movement seems to remind her that she's naked and she drops them, grabbing her panties off the floor.

"To you," I clarify. "Do men do that to you?"

"No, no one has ever knocked me up before."

"What about the rest of it?"

"One time this guy I was seeing tried to take the condom off without me noticing. I kneed him in the junk and broke up with him."

I nod. "It's mine? The baby?"

"Yes." She says this like I'm stupid and I wonder how much she wishes it weren't.

"You're sure? No one else is in the running?" God, I wish I could take that back. That didn't come out right and I have no right to make any insinuations. Besides, I'm well aware that odds are, it's mine.

"No, jackass," she says, bending to pick up her dress. "I just thought I'd stop by and let you know I was having a baby that isn't yours."

"I'll get you a shirt," I say when she starts to step into the dress.

"Don't bother, I'm leaving."

"We're talking," I remind her, stepping out of the bathroom to grab a T-shirt from my closet. She follows me, apparently deciding against fighting this fight, with her dress still clutched in her hands. I take it from her as I hand her a shirt and she slides it over her head without further complaint.

Then we step back into the master bedroom and stare at each other, silent. I assume she's waiting for me to begin the conversation I keep asking for.

"Are the sore tits going to be a thing the entire nine months, or…?" Nice icebreaker, asshole.

She slow-blinks at me. "Really?"

"I was just curious."

"Read a book, dickbag."

I nod. Right.

"The condom might have been old," I finally volunteer. I rub at the back of my neck, waiting for her to say something.

She slow-blinks at me some more. "Might have been old? Have you seen yourself in the mirror? I'm supposed to believe you were