Willow
"I'M... I'M SO SORRY," I SAY. "I DIDN'T MEAN TO SAY THAT."
I cringe under his assessing look. One of his eyes is the warm color of honey, the other a frosty blue. In the pale morning light, I can see just how deep those scars across his face go. He repeats in that lethally soft tone, "Who. The fuck. Is Ben?"
"My ex," I mumble.
His eyes narrow. Then he closes them briefly as he takes a deep breath. "I'm gonna pretend like you didn't just say another man's name after I made you come. For both our sakes." There's an odd glow to his eyes. Almost as if they're lit from within. "That's probably for the best."
I imagine what it would feel like if the situation were reversed. I know I would be dying inside if he'd called me by another girl's name right then. It makes me feel terrible. "I'll forgive it this once." A storm brews in his gaze. "But I don't want to hear his fucking name again. Especially not when any part of me is inside you." "I'm here with you," I say. "Only you." "Okay." His voice is still gruff. "Now come back to bed." I make a move to do so, but apparently I'm too slow for his taste, because he grabs me and pulls me into his lap. Then he arranges my legs so I'm straddling him. "Take off your shirt," he says. "I want to see you."
Hands trembling, I pull my sweater off. His gaze sweeps down me. "More. I want all of you."
I unhook my bra. With a sudden surge of self consciousness, I clasp my arms to myself, holding the bra up. What if he doesn't like what he sees? Surely he's been with girls a hundred times more beautiful than me. Girls who know what they're doing, who don't stammer or blush or call him by the wrong freaking name. I'm average in every possible way. Dominik is… the opposite. So very handsome, so very intense, and for some unfathomable reason, so very interested in me. How can I possibly measure up to his expectations?
"Willow."
I meet his eyes. "Yeah?"
His hands slide from my knees to my thighs in a surprisingly gentle caress. "What are you worried about right now?" I don't feel like blurting out all my insecurities, so I tell him another truth. "It's been a while since I've had sex."
At least a year. Maybe longer. I shouldn't have admitted it, I immediately think. He's going to think I'm making more of this encounter than I'm supposed to.
Maybe he thinks I'll get clingy after this.
But he relaxes instead. Very nearly smiles, in fact. "No shame in that."
My eyes drift to the rather enormous erection tenting his gray sweatpants. "It might hurt."
His lips quirk. His hand lifts to my face. Strokes his knuckles along the curve of my cheek. "I'm going to take care of you."
The reassurance does something to me. Makes me believe, if only right now, that he cares about me, this stranger in his bed. Even if it's just caring about my pleasure. That alone will be a new experience. "Okay," I whisper.
His hands land lightly on my shoulders. Slowly, he drags the bra straps down my arms. I let my own hands fall away. My breasts feel full and heavy under his gaze. Dominik's breathing slows as his pupils dilate. "You're beautiful." He says it quietly. No inflection. But his eyes are very dark when they find mine. He cups my breasts again. It takes me by surprise when he dips his head and sucks one nipple into his mouth. I gasp, my fingers clutching at his ink-black hair. "Oh," I breathe. "That's —" His tongue swirls around my nipple, making me squirm. He lavishes attention on that one before switching sides.
I'm starting to ride him, hips moving back and forth as I instinctively seek friction. His cock is hard and huge as I rub against it. "Do you—" I gasp as he does something amazing with his tongue. "Do you have a condom?"
He releases my nipple with a pop. "No. Do you?"
I shake my head, processing the fact that he doesn't have any condoms here. Should I assume he doesn't have them because he's… unsafe? Irresponsible? No, that assessment doesn't feel right. This is a man who carries lanterns and spare canisters of gasoline in his truck, the kind who's prepared for anything. So does that mean he doesn't have a condom because… he doesn't do this kind of thing regularly? That this encounter is as unusual for him as it is for me?
I shouldn't care. But I do. He rubs a hand over his jaw. "It's… it's been awhile for me too."
The admission surprises me. But it gives me a boost of confidence as well. Maybe I'm not alone in feeling vulnerable here.
"There's nothing I can give to you," he says. "I mean, I'm–I'm healthy."
"Me too."
His hand, which has been resting on my waist, curves down.
Pauses on my stomach. "Are you on birth control?" I nod. "The pill."
I expect him to look relieved or glad, but instead he looks strangely thoughtful. His hand stays on my stomach. "Might not work."
"Ninety-nine percent chance it will."
His hand is still on my lower belly. Warmth radiates from it like he's heating me up from the inside out. "You willing to risk the non-zero percent chance it won't?" he murmurs. This conversation is making me feel oddly light-headed. We're talking about making a baby together. We're strangers.
This is a one-time thing. This is crazy talk. "Are you?" My voice trembles a little.
His eyes gleam. "I'll give you a heads-up now. If I get you pregnant, you're going to have to marry me. I'm a pretty traditional guy."
I let out a breath. He's teasing me. "Yeah, right." I push lightly at his chest. "Because every traditional guy is jumping at the chance to turn his casual hookup into his wife."
"There's nothing casual about this hookup." His hand keeps moving, down to my pussy. His finger rubs slowly over my clit. "It's a very, very serious hookup."
I'm about to laugh, but never get the chance. Because he kisses me on the lips.