Page 20 of Pretty Desperate (Pine Village #6)

My legs are a bit wobbly as he pulls out and steps back. I take a few moments to catch my breath, leaning against the wall. I notice Kameron still standing in front of me, reaching down for the condom. Except, he doesn’t pull it off. He’s examining it.

“Fuck,” he mutters, pulling the tip out.

“What’s wrong?”

His eyes are wide with panic as he gazes up at me. “Uhh, the condom broke.”

I look down, noticing the lack of anything inside the condom. That might explain why I suddenly feel a rush of moisture on my thighs.

“Stay right here. Don’t move,” he says, turning and heading for the en suite bathroom.

He’s gone less than a minute and returns with a wet washcloth. “Here,” he says, handing over the warm rag so I can clean myself up. After I run the wet cloth over my thighs, he adds, “I don’t know what to do. This has never happened to me before.”

I glance at the bathroom, the euphoric glow of what just happened suddenly gone. “Give me one second, okay?” I say, heading for his bathroom.

Closing the door, I quickly take care of business and clean myself up.

When I step up to the sink to wash my hands, I can’t help but notice the rosy hue to my cheeks and my swollen lips.

A small smile spreads across my face, despite the rather unexpected ending to the sex we just had.

It was…amazing. Earth-shattering. And whatever equally explosive adjectives I could come up with here.

But now we have to discuss the post-orgasmic issue.

I’ve never experienced a condom break. Not that I have a ton of experience, but I’ve heard of it happening, of course.

I remember them talking about it during health class back in high school.

Our teacher had always suggested two forms of birth control for this exact reason.

No single form is one-hundred-percent foolproof.

Pregnancy can happen even when using contraceptives.

When I was dating and married Davis, I was on birth control.

I was anxiously waiting for the discussion when we’d decide for me to go off it.

I wanted a baby. That was the ultimate dream.

The end goal, you could say. And not just one baby, I wanted a few.

Three was what I envisioned for myself, but I wasn’t going to be picky.

If I only had one, I’d take that child and love it to the max.

But that dream didn’t happen. Davis decided parenthood wasn’t for him, despite telling me throughout our time dating that it was. He changed his mind, as he said.

And because of that, I couldn’t stay married to him.

Instead, I returned to the dating scene, only to find it not what I expected.

Every first date I had was just that. A once and done.

I didn’t connect with any of them, not the way I thought I had with Davis.

That’s the number one reason why I put so much of myself into starting my own bakery.

It was a distraction from my dream being dangled in front of my face all those years ago and then ripped away.

As I stare at my reflection, trying to push those darker thoughts from my mind, something hits me.

A quick run of the math lets me know it’s not the right time of the month for me to potentially get pregnant.

Another bit of info they taught in health class is that a woman’s most fertile right before or after ovulation, which happens around day fourteen in a woman’s cycle.

I’m a week past that, closing in on the last week before Aunt Flo comes for her monthly visit.

It's the wrong time.

I need to go back out there but need a little protection. Not from Kameron, I realize, but from the words I have to speak. They’re incredibly personal, and I can’t go out there and have this conversation without a shield.

Instantly, I spot what I’m looking for. I grab the white button-down shirt hanging on the back of the door, probably his work shirt from the night before.

As I bring the material to my nose, I inhale his masculine scent mixed with the kitchen, and even though they’re two totally different things, I don’t hate it.

In fact, I like it. Probably too much. It’s the perfect representation of Kameron.

Once I’ve donned the shirt and have most of the buttons secured, I step out into his room.

Kameron is sitting on the bed wearing a pair of shorts, his hands in his hair.

“Hey,” he says, jumping up and looking a bit stressed.

It’s in the moment he realizes what I’m wearing.

His eyes devour, taking in my bare legs and the shirt that’s way too big.

It hits just above my knees and the cuffs well past my hands.

Approaching where he stands, I say, “So, I did some math. We’re okay.”

“Okay?” He wrinkles up his nose and forehead, clearly not understanding.

“It’s the wrong time. Of the month.”

Realization hits him hard, and he visibly relaxes. “Oh? Okay. You, uh, can tell that?” he asks sheepishly.

A little grin spreads across my lips. “We can, generally speaking. Well, based on where it falls in our monthly cycle.”

He makes a little face, as if the thought of talking about my cycle makes him a touch uncomfortable. “Okay.”

I walk to where he’s standing and place my hands on his hard chest. He positions his hands on my lower back, drawing me to his body. His cock starts to get hard again. “I should probably head home.”

“Probably,” he murmurs, running his lips across my jaw.

My nipples get hard beneath his shirt. “I have to get up early in the morning.”

He nods, sliding his tongue up my neck and across the lobe of my ear, making me shiver. “You do have to get up early.”

I throw my arms around his neck and slam my lips to his, while his hands shift to my ass, and he maneuvers me toward his bed. “Maybe just once more before I go.”