Finally, he came to a stop, and his head dropped down to my shoulder as he buried his face in my neck, his harsh breathing gusting down my chest.
“I think you killed me,” he panted, and I felt the slight tremble in his limbs.
Locking my arms and legs tighter around him, I huffed, “Me? I didn’t do anything. That was all you.”
“I doubt it! Fuck, baby, I’ve got no words.” There was a moment's silence, and then he added, “I’ve never felt like this about anyone. I don’t know what to do with it.”
Turning my head so that I could kiss his forehead, I whispered, “Me neither, but we’ll get there together.”
I wasn’t lying. In this, we would get there together. Neither of us really had high opinions of our value. We were both untrusting and wary, but together we created something powerful for each other, so there was no doubt we’d achieve it.After we’d cleaned up and after we’d kissed until my lips felt swollen, we’d gotten under the covers to watch a movie. And now I had to tell him something that might change his opinion of me.
Parker’s bed looked like one of the popular wooden sleigh beds, but somehow, the designer had managed to build in one of those mechanisms that raised and lowered a television out of the end of it. Either side of the frame were buttons that you pressed to make it happen, and he’d humored me by letting me play with them for a couple of minutes. And then there was the mattress, which was like a cloud. Suffice it to say, I loved his bed.
We were lying cuddled up together, watching Labyrinth, when he said something that gave me the kick up the ass I needed to tell him.
What did he say that sparked a profound revelation? “That baby’s adorable. I’d totally save Toby, too.”
Flinching, I quickly rehearsed all of the words I needed to say out loud and then took a deep breath to do it. “I don’t want babies.” I spat the words out so quickly, though, that it sounded like it was all one word.
“Christ, Ari, you’ve tightened up like a rock,” he mumbled, running his hand up and down my back before stopping with his hand cupped around one butt cheek. “What did you just say?”
Rolling my head so that my face was buried in his stomach, I repeated, “I don’t want babies, Parker.”
The statement was met with silence, and his hand didn’t even twitch around where it was cupping me. He was quiet for so long that I went against what my mind wanted my body to do and raised my head to look at him.
I don’t know what I expected, but it definitely wasn’t to see him watching television like nothing had happened.
“Did you hear what I said?”
This time he turned to look me in the eyes. “I did.”
“Is that a deal breaker?”
“No,” he replied swiftly. “But I’d really like to know why.”
This bit right here was why I’d avoided saying it. Sitting up, I crossed my legs and shifted so that I was facing him fully. It made me feel like I was hanging off the edge of a precipice, but it was important, so my vagina balls had to get me through it.
“You know I have issues about certain parts,” I swept my hand from my chest to my nose. “And those issues were really bad.” When he nodded, I gave him a sad smile. “Parker, what if a baby inherits those features and reacts the same way? I know my problems are probably based on vanity, but they really affected me. Those thoughts of suicide…” I bit my lower lip and shook my head, trying to shake them off me. “That was the lowest moment of my life. The guy at school had just said he’d fuck me if I wore a paper bag over my head, and the lights were off… I hated myself.”
“He probably had a tiny dick he didn’t want you to see,” Parker snapped, sitting up and running his hands through his hair. “Ari, don’t take his tiny dick on as your problem. You didn’t like certain parts of how you looked, so you changed them. Thousands of women have done the same thing and gone on to have families. It’s doable.”
He was right, but it was worse than just not being able to look at my reflection. “I don’t want a kid to inherit that nose or my lack of boobs and stand in front of a mirror feeling like I did. I don’t want them to stand in the bathroom, staring at a razor and thinking it would be a messy way to die, and then feeling guilty that Mom would have to clean it all up. I went through every scenario I could think of, all of them ending with me dying, just because of two things that I didn’t like about myself. I don’t want to pass that onto a child.”