On The Ropes (Tapped Out 3)

She couldn’t get pregnant.

Even without looking, I could feel her gaze on the side of my face. Silent and judgmental. “I’m on the Pill. No worries there, stud.”

Incredulous, I glanced at her. “We can’t take any chances. This isn’t a joke.”

“No kidding. I said I was protected. End of story.” She folded her arms across her chest, the movement unintentionally plumping her breasts over her arms. The bra she was wearing made her cleavage practically spill out, and my already hard cock responded, twitching in my boxer briefs.

Goddammit.

I put the truck into gear and pulled out into traffic. “We can stop, get you some other clothes to put on—”

“At ten-thirty at night? I don’t think so.”

Trying to maintain my patience, I wrapped my fingers around the wheel. “You can sneak in then. Girls have been doing it for decades.”

“I live in an apartment with three other people. Two of whom sleep on the living room floor and usually screw half the night.”

I remained silent.

“Fox’s mother sleeps in the bedroom with me. Short of climbing up the fire escape, there is no sneaking.”

“You share a bedroom with Fox’s mom?”

“I sleep on the floor,” she said curtly, not sparing me a glance.

I swore under my breath. “That’s not right. You should have a

bed. You’re a growing girl—”

“I think you felt for yourself that I’m plenty grown already.”

My fingers tightened around the wheel. “It’s not funny. None of this is fucking funny.”

“Do you hear me laughing?” she asked quietly. “I was the one spread out on that table, so don’t you dare act like I’m not smart enough to know how to feel.”

Jerkily, I flipped on the windshield wipers. The fastest speed didn’t touch the rain coming down in heavy sheets. “If you come home with me, you’ll be staying in the bed. And I’ll be out on the couch.”

I hated the paternalistic tone I adopted so easily with her—it made no sense, all things considered—but I had to keep it up or else I would crumble. I would bring her to my bed, and show her what I wished our first time had been like.

But I didn’t have room for wishes. Didn’t have room for anything except training to kill.

She didn’t reply, just stared silently out the rain-splattered side window.

There were so many things I wanted to say. So many questions I wanted to ask.

Are you okay? Did I hurt you, physically? What can I do to make this better?

And most of all…

I’m sorry. God, I’m so fucking sorry.

I would never be able to apologize enough.

Every time I tried to speak, the words got stuck behind the lump in my throat. And then I’d make the mistake of glancing at her and my gaze would snag on her long, shapely legs revealed by that impossibly short plaid skirt. As many times as I cursed myself, my cock stirred each damn time.

We pulled up at my apartment building and I led the way through the gates outside to the side vestibule. I tapped in a code on the keypad and held open the door, then gestured for her to get into the elevator. “Fourth floor,” I said, looking away from her as fast as humanly possible once I’d joined her inside that tiny box.

It wasn’t fast enough to miss that she was shaking.