Page 64 of Forked (Frenched 2)
Then there was the actual cake. I’d tasted the batter and thought that was orgasmically good, so I wasn’t surprised to discover it was even better baked and frosted. Plus every bite reminded me of Nick in the kitchen—and not just the sex. I loved sitting at the island and watching him work, loved how much he enjoyed it, how easy things had felt between us last night. Why did things have to be so complicated? Nick was like that miraculous pair of platform heels that somehow manages to be wickedly sexy and yet comfy too. Would I never have that sexy, comfortable feeling with anyone else? How cruel that it was our history giving our friendship that ease, and yet it was that very thing preventing me from trusting him.
But now there was a new wrinkle. If I was pregnant, Nick and I needed to have a pretty serious discussion about where to go from here. I wanted to know so badly, but it was too soon to take a test, wasn’t it? I had to wait until I missed a period, right? Quickly I counted the days—I should get my period on Tuesday next week. Maybe there was a test I could take a couple days early.
“Coco?” Nick’s voice came through a fog.
“I’m sorry, what?” I hadn’t been paying attention to the conversation at all.
“Are you OK?” He spoke so quietly no one could hear, putting a hand on my shoulder. “You’ve gone really pale all of a sudden.”
Oh God, was pallor a sign of pregnancy? It was, wasn’t it?
“Nick.” My anxiety trumped my manners. “I have to tell you something. In private.”
Taking the empty plate from my lap, he stood and offered me a hand. I rose—crap, was the waist of my dress tight or was I imagining things?
Stop it. That’s a braciole baby, not an actual baby.
Nick led the way into the kitchen, where he put our dishes in the sink, before taking my hand and tugging me out the back door. As soon as it shut behind us, he turned to me, his brow furrowed. “What’s up?”
“I—I did something stupid.” I swallowed, unable to get the rest of the words out, and twisted my fingers together.
“You did?” He planted his feet wide and crossed his arms. Even in the twilight, I could see the confusion in his face. “So tell me. It can’t be that bad.”
“Yes it can.” I took a shaky breath, feeling a sob working its way up. “I forgot to take a pill last night.”
His eyes went wide. “That pill?”
I nodded slowly. “That pill,” I whispered, my eyes filling with tears. “And I’m scared.”
“Oh, cupcake.” Nick gathered me in his arms and held me tight to his chest. “It’s OK. Come on. Let’s go for a drive.”
Keeping an arm around my shoulder, he guided me around the house toward his car.
“Where you going?” called a female voice from the porch. Katie, maybe.
“Just out for a drive. We’ll be back.” He opened the door for me, and went around to the driver’s side. Without bothering with the convertible top, he pulled away from the house and drove down the same dirt road that we’d run on. I rolled down the window, still desperate for fresh air. We kept going until we reached the road that cut through the orchard. Halfway to the end, Nick pulled over and shut off the engine.
I looked over to the right…somewhere out there was the place where I lost my virginity to the man next to me. On a fall night, when the air had a crisp chill to it. I remembered how the moonlight barely filtered through the branches to the ground, where we lay in the shadows.
I hadn’t been scared. I remembered that vividly. I’d put up a little resistance—after all, I didn’t want Nick to think I was easy—but the truth was, I couldn’t wait to share my body with him that way, and have him share his with me. He would be inside me—what would that feel like? I wanted him there, wanted him to be the one to show me. I wanted to discover the thrill of it together.
Because of course, I’d thought he was a virgin too.
I remembered how he’d brought me to orgasm with his tongue first that night, leaving me drenched and swollen and ready for him. Then I’d pulled him up my body, reaching between us to free his cock from his jeans, my heart pounding. The details were so clear in my mind—the floral dress and red cardigan sweater I wore, the way the skirt bunched up around my waist, the crunch of the leaves under the blanket, the taste of apples and cinnamon in his kiss, his mouth wet. The look in his eyes as he pushed inside me for the first time, inch by inch, and the feel of his shirt in my tightly clenched hands. Willing my body to ease up, to take him in, I breathed deeply, my fists relaxing. God, you’re so tight, he’d whispered. So tight and wet and it feels so good.
“I can still feel it, you know.” I spoke without taking my eyes from the orchard. “That first time. You went slow for me.” Between my legs an ache was building, and I squeezed my thighs together. The memory would have to be enough.
“Yes.”
“You kept asking if I was OK.”
“I was so nervous.”
“More nervous than I was, I think.”
“I didn’t want to hurt you. And I didn’t want it to be over too quickly, which was always a problem in those days.”
I looked at him. “You knew what you were doing.” A subtle reminder that he’d lied about his virginity.
