Page 233 of Playing With Fire

Her smile softens. “I know.”

“I mean it.”

“I know you do.” She rests her palm against my cheek. “But don’t you think we’ve both waited long enough?”

She’s not wrong. I just don’t want to rush this. Rush her. And fuck this up.

“Give me a second.”

I reach toward the nightstand for a condom, but her fingers close gently around my wrist.

“Bishop?”

“Yeah?”

“I'm on birth control.”

My hand stills.

“The pill,” she clarifies. “I've been taking it for years. My periods were awful in high school, and it helped.”

“Okay.”

“And I'm good about taking it.”

I nod. “Good to know.”

She looks at me. “That's all you're going to say?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don't know. I thought this conversation would be more awkward.”

I laugh. “Becks, I've spent most of my adult life in locker rooms. You're going to have to work a lot harder than that to make me uncomfortable.”

She smiles, then grows serious. “I've used condoms, the couple of times before.”

I nod. “Me too.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

She studies my face. “Really?”

“Yeah. But I have some here,” I tell her. “And I'm completely fine using one.”

She looks toward the nightstand then back at me and her face falls a little. I know what she’s thinking.

“Becks, let me be clear. I just bought these after your birthday. You’re the only woman that’s ever been in my bed, or this penthouse for that matter.”

She smiles and says, “outta town rule, right?”

The fuck? “Where did you hear about that?”

“O’Shea’s women’s bathroom for starters.”

So that’s why she ran out on me that night.