All humor fled my brain. There was one thing I had to know; I’d been wondering about it for way too long.

“Would you have taken me home that night if you hadn’t been drinking? I always assumed that the only reason you’d forgotten you hated me was because of the booze.”

The backs of three fingers skimmed up the bare skin of my arm, leaving goose bumps in their wake.

“I’ve never hated you. That’s the problem.”

I jerked my gaze away from his hand and looked up into his blazing blue eyes.

“But in high school—”

“Thought we already covered the fact that the chip on my shoulder is big enough for Evel Knievel to use to jump a dozen school busses.”

“So—”

“The way I grew up, it’s easier—hell, safer—to pretend you don’t want something than it is to admit how you really feel.”

“Oh,” I whispered. “I always thought…”

“Exactly what I wanted you to think.”

“So that night…”

“I’ve spent more time trying to fill in those memories than I’d ever admit. It kills me that it’s nothing but blanks.” He flipped his hand, and his palm wrapped around my shoulder. “I’ve waited long enough. And you better damn well believe I won’t forget a second of what happens next.”

I shivered, and the heat of his palm skimmed up the column of my throat, until his thumb rested under my chin. He lowered his head, tilted my face, and took my mouth.

Reaching up, I twined both arms around his neck, burying my fingers in his hair. Con’s free hand slid down my back until it reached the band of my bra. I barely realized what he was doing before it unclasped, and the pressure against my breasts released.

I let go of his hair and smashed one hand against my bra to hold the cups in place.

Con lifted his head and stared down at me, confusion clear in his expression.

I knew in that moment I had to explain my hesitancy. He’d laid a little piece of his soul bare, and I was going to do the same.

“I have…stretch marks.”

His eyes turned sharp. “You had a baby? Who the fuck knocked you up, and how did you keep it quiet?”

My humiliation was complete. I stepped back, squatting to feel around on the floor for my top. I needed to be covered, because now he was studying my midsection.

“No one, you ass. They’re from being fat.” I squeezed my eyes shut as tears threatened again. “Just…get out.”

I wouldn’t look at him. I absolutely would not look at him.

Until he dropped to his knees in front of me and grabbed my chin.

“Whoa, honey. Calm down.”

The tears that had threatened to fall dried. It was official. Con Leahy was just as dumb as every other man on the planet. I jerked my chin from his grip. “Don’t you tell me to calm down. I’m freaking calm. You’re the one who isn’t calm.”

Finding the scrubs and using them to cover my chest, I stood and pointed to the door. “So just go.”

I expected him to tuck his tail between his legs and skulk out of the room. Why? Because underestimating Con seemed to be a habit I couldn’t shake. I’d have to work on that.

His trademark smirk flashed on his lips. “I don’t think so, babe.”

I glared. “If you think this is still happening, then you’re insane.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“The mood—if there was one—is gone. I just want to take a shower and crawl in bed—by myself.”

“Too bad.” The smirk kicked up a notch, and I had to stifle the urge to smack it off his face.

“You’re such an asshole. Get. Out.” My voice rose this time, perilously close to a shriek. Didn’t care.

Con lunged, wrapped both arms around me, tossed me up and over his shoulder, and stepped into the hot spray of the shower.

“Ah!” This time, there was no question that the sound coming from my mouth was a shriek. It echoed off the glass and tile. The water beat down, plastering my hair to my face. In the manhandling, I’d dropped my bra and the top. My scrub bottoms were already soaked when Con slowly lowered me to my feet. I shoved against his chest as soon as I had my bearings. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m not letting you get away again. No matter how bad I fuck up.”

Shoving my hair away from my face, I stared up at Con’s earnest expression.

“I’m sorry,” he started. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I just—” He jammed his fingers into his wet hair. “I don’t give a fuck about stretch marks. I just couldn’t stand the thought of someone else…having you.” He turned away, facing into the pounding spray. “Fuck. That sounds insane. It is insane. Jesus. This can’t—”

I didn’t wait for him to finish. I slipped between Con and the tiled shower wall and dropped to my knees, soaked scrubs and all. I didn’t want to hear him say what this could or couldn’t be. I didn’t want limits. Didn’t want restrictions. For once in my life, I wanted no boundaries. No guidelines. No can’ts. I struggled with the button of his jeans, and his words dropped off.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Shut up,” I told him. It was exactly what I’d told him downstairs, when I’d had my first spur of boldness. It was time to follow through, and I wanted to be the aggressor. I wanted to take what I wanted without thinking.

I yanked at his zipper and tugged his jeans down his legs.

Hello.

The man went commando.

Con’s erection bounced as the sodden denim puddled on the floor.

And hello again.

My eyes widened. If I were a cartoon, they would have bulged right out of my head.

A silver ball winked from the top of the head of Con’s penis, and a matching ball glimmered directly on the other side.

“That’s new.” I wasn’t even aware I’d said the words out loud until a burst of Con’s laughter echoed in the shower.

“Is that gonna be a prob—”

Con’s words cut off, as though he’d been strangled, when I gripped the base of his shaft and licked him from root to tip, tonguing the bottom silver ball when I hit the head.

“Shit, woman.”

His thighs flexed, and I imagined that his knees went a little bit weak. I liked that idea.