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“I wanted you to take me to the high school dance.”

Her words are the last thing I expected her to say.

Have I deprived her brain of too much oxygen? I lift, shifting my weight onto my elbows more.

“I’m sorry I didn’t take you, but if you want to dance…?” Fuck, I’m confused.

“I’m just saying, I decided to be yours way before you.”

This time, her words hit me right in my fucking heart.

I fuse my mouth with hers, and finally allowing her some room, she wraps her legs around me. I kiss her with a frenzy spurred by the confession, trying to absorb the magnitude while at the same time hoping to escape more words.

The intimacy they forged. The implication they cast. The warmth they spread. It’s all overwhelming.

Her stomach growls, and she giggles against my lips. And while my cock has opinions about what should happen next, I need to put my wife first.

My wife.

Fuck. That needs to happen, too.

“Let’s get out of here and get some breakfast.” Reluctantly, I pull away from her.

“I’m still mad at you.” She sits up, and I’m distracted by her naked beauty.

“Fair enough. But I swear, I wasn’t planning it. In the heat of the moment, I didn’t evaluate the situation correctly.” I stand and saunter to the bathroom.

“You being in control in the bedroom doesn’t give you the right to knock me up.” She follows me.

Now, I’m annoyed. “Don’t act like it would be such a horrible thing.”

She groans. “You’re infuriating. We just started… to tolerate each other, and you think having a child is okay?”

The pause before she defined our relationship astolerating each otherhurts like a punch in my gut. But I’m not a man who gets deterred easily.

I get her, I truly get her, but the cocky bastard in me doesn’t care much. While her argument is valid, it’s not like we can change what happened fifteen minutes ago.

I sigh. “Are you on birth control?”

She throws her arms up in exasperation. “Oh please, I haven’t had a period for months.”

Fuck, the toll her body paid for her career makes me see red, but that’s a topic for later. Soon, but not right now. “So you’re fighting me on principle?”

“An important principle.”

“Good, let’s do that over breakfast.”

“It’s not even that cold,” Saar complains as we walk across the busy street to a bistro where they serve the best Eggs Benedict.

As soon as we got ready—her mostly glaring at me—I threw my jacket over her shoulders. And, of course, she had to add it to all the things she hates about me this morning.

We reach the entrance. “I’m not fucking having you traipsing around in that dress.”

“So much for not controlling me.” She rolls her eyes and pushes the door open.

We find seats in a booth in the corner and order breakfast.

“You need to see a doctor,” I start before we even get our coffees.