Before Jamaica Lane (On Dublin Street 3)

As Nate had already pointed out, I was an overachiever.

I moved over him, pressing him back into the couch. ‘Put it inside me.’

His lips curled at the corners. ‘You put me inside you.’

So I did.

I whimpered against his mouth as he sucked in a deep breath.

And then I moved.

I tried to go slow, to take it easy, to build it, but I was too impatient, too desperate for it.

Too greedy.

Too inexperienced.

Yet Nate let me control it.

And by his doing so, we both came hard but much too fast.

I leaned against him, curling my arms around his shoulders as he wrapped his arms around my waist and held me close. ‘I guess I’m still learning,’ I admitted breathlessly.

Hearing my uncertainty, Nate gently lifted me away, his expression sincere as he confessed, ‘No woman has ever ridden me that hard. Believe me, babe, I’m not complaining.’

Smirking through my embarrassment, I asked, ‘Really?’

Nate grinned as he swept a strand of my hair behind my ear. ‘Really.’

It wasn’t until I lifted myself off him that the mood changed dramatically. A single expletive fell from Nate’s lips.

‘What?’ I asked, wide-eyed, glancing down at his lap to make sure I hadn’t hurt him.

‘No condom,’ he bit out.

‘It’s okay, I’m on the pill.’

He frowned at me as he pulled his underwear and jeans back up. ‘Liv, I only went to the clinic yesterday. I still haven’t gotten the results back.’

At that I pulled my panties up and hurried around the couch to go clean up in the bathroom. ‘I’m sure you’re fine,’ I threw over my shoulder, my heart pounding. I hoped he was fine. Shit. I shut the bathroom door and leaned on the sink, staring into the mirror in front of me. My cheeks were flushed and my eyes were golden bright. I looked thoroughly f**ked. I was. And I’d been in such a rush to get a taste of what was clearly becoming an addiction that I’d forgotten about protection.

Now, if I had kids, I’d forever be a hypocrite when I lectured them about it.

I admonished myself to hell and back, and then it occurred to me that it wasn’t just my fault. Nate had forgotten too. I glared at the door and instantly grimaced. I could argue that he was supposed to be the experienced one here, but that didn’t really wash when you were twenty-six years old and knew better.

Hearing the noise of the television, I wandered back out of the bathroom to find that Nate had the DVD playing while he was in the kitchen putting together bagels. Suddenly my stomach growled.

Nate glanced up at me. ‘I’m sorry I forgot the condom.’

‘I forgot too. But it’ll be okay. Right?’

‘I’ve never forgotten protection before tonight, so we should be fine. But we really need to be more careful.’ He licked cream cheese off his thumb and turned to the fridge for some soda.

Deciding I didn’t want another weird ending to our evening, I thought it best not to say any more, so I changed the subject. ‘What are we watching tonight?’

Nate handed me my bagel and I thanked him, then followed him to the couch. To my surprise he sat closer than usual, putting his feet up on the table and settling in at my side. ‘It’s a musical.’

I choked on a bite of the bagel and quickly swallowed so I could ask incredulously, ‘Are you kidding me?’

Smirking, he shook his head. ‘It’s a satirical musical.’

‘Does that make it any better?’

‘Let’s hope so.’

As it turned out, the musical was pretty funny at first, but it soon started to go downhill. Clearly bored, Nate took a sip of his Coke and with his eyes trained on the screen, asked, ‘Would you rather live in a musical or a post-apocalyptic world?’

I immediately smiled, so unbelievably relieved to be hanging out with my friend just like always and answering his weird questions. ‘What kind of post-apocalyptic world?’

‘Think The Book of Eli.’

‘Harsh.’

‘Aye.’

‘So what kind of musical, then?’

He rolled his head on the couch to grin at me. ‘Grease 2.’

I spluttered on the sip I’d just taken, and it took me a minute to breathe freely enough to ask, ‘You’ve seen Grease 2?’

Some of the spark went out of Nate as he shrugged and turned back to the screen. ‘Alana made me watch it.’

Oh. The ghost in the room.

Nudging him with my shoulder, I tried to pass over the moment and bring back his good humor. ‘I’m definitely going with post-apocalyptic world. Especially if there are men in it that look like Denzel.’

His left dimple popped. ‘I’m going with post-apocalyptic world too.’

‘Because of Mila Kunis, right?’

‘Well, there’s that, but mostly it’s because I’m anti-violence.’

I wrinkled my nose in confusion. ‘I don’t get it. Post-apocalyptic worlds unfortunately tend to go hand in hand with violence.’

‘Aye, but I’m much more likely to be the one that’s killed in a post-apocalyptic world. However, if I have to live in Grease 2, there’s more than a ninety-five percent possibility that I’ll shoot the next f**ker that bursts into song.’ He glanced up at me, all deadpan. ‘It’s just the wrong life for a pacifist.’

Giggling, I bobbed my head in agreement. ‘We’re going dystopian, then.’

He nodded and then asked with a small pucker between his brows, ‘So why are you against living in a musical?’