By chapter three there’s still no sex just a lot of uncomfortable staring at each other’s body parts and Steele thinking dirty thoughts.

I’m really losing interest. Finally I notice that Elle left a bookmark further back in the book, and when I go to check it out it’s noticeable that the spine is loose at this section. Apparently my little vixen has read this part more than once.

And I can see why. Three pages in and my cock is wide awake. So much for Steele and Ricky being besties. I guess the ten previous chapters leading up to this one had enough tension to fuel a number of epic sex scenes in a row. Even I’m worn out by the last scene that involves dirty dancing, and shower sex so wild it sounds dangerous. I’m guessing by the fold in the page that Elle really liked this scene, too.

I glance over at her just when her eyes flutter open. From the way her eyes bug out when she sees me and her mouth falls open, I guess I’ve startled her.

“Oh my God! How long have you been here?” she asks, as she lifts herself upright. Her hair is doing a wild dance all over her head and she has the pillow’s texture imprinted on her cheek.

I smile at her. “A little while. I didn’t want to wake you, you looked so peaceful.”

“That was nice of you.”

She stretches her arms up over her head and my eyes trail down to the little patch of skin revealed where her shirt lifted. Her skin looks velvety soft. I wonder how it’d feel to touch it, even press my lips against it . . .

“I’ve been sleeping on and off all day.” She lets out a huge yawn.

I reach over and rest my hand on her cool forehead. “You don’t have a fever.”

“No, I feel fine. Just tired I guess.” She spies the book in my hand. “Hey, were you reading my smut again?”

I hold up the book. “Yeah, the ex-con one. I think I found your favorite chapter. I didn’t know you were into ex-cons.”

“I’m not usually. This one just had special qualities.” She gives me a wink. “I’m starving. Let’s go eat!”

We’re loaded in the car when she turns to me. “Hey, how into the barbeque thing are you?”

“I’m not married to the idea, why? Would you rather go somewhere else?”

“I’m craving a Double-Double something fierce.”

“In-N-Out?” I ask, scrunching my face. I immediately think of how unromantic those white Formica booths are and realize that this night isn’t going the way I’d hoped. But I look over and her face is lit up. How can I turn her down?

“Could we?” she asks with those big doe eyes. Her hair is still crazy and I reach over to smooth it down.

“Okay, sure,” I say.

She claps her hands like a kid and I grin as I pull onto the street.

I’ve never seen Elle eat like this. She’s suddenly a truck driver in a petite package. She polishes off the Double-Double, a chocolate shake, her fries, and half of mine. I finally pull the fries away. “Slow down. You’re going to make yourself sick.”

She snags another fry and waves it toward me. “Yeah, and can you believe I was throwing up this morning! Fast recovery, right?”

“What do you mean you were throwing up? Did you eat something bad?”

“I guess so. I’ve been off all week. Maybe I’m fighting a little virus or something. I just want to sleep and eat all the time.”

As I watch her drain her milkshake my mind starts to wander with disturbing thoughts. I’ve been around women enough to pick up on the myriad of weird body stuff they suffer through due to their crazy, ever-changing hormones. What she’s just described sounds like a particular combination of symptoms. Oh Jesus. Could she be pregnant? As soon as I think of it I feel like I’ve been kicked in the stomach. Is fate this big of a bitch . . . is this the worst timing in my life? The night I was finally ready to ask her for more, could be the night where her life turns another direction without me in it. My fingers tighten along the edges of the tabletop.

“What’s wrong? You look freaked out.” Her smile fades the longer I don’t answer her question.

What do I say? I pull my straw halfway out of my soda and then slide it back in several times while my head spins. At this point telling the truth is the only road worth taking.

“Could you be pregnant?”

She drops her fry. “Pregnant? No, of course not.”

“Are you sure? Birth control isn’t infallible you know.”

She folds her arms over her chest. “I’m sure. I’d know if I were pregnant.”

She glares at me like I’ve told her she was stupid or something. I wish I felt better hearing how confident her answer was.

“Okay. Sorry I said anything. Shall we?” I ask as I gather up our ravaged remains to throw away.

She nods, a faraway look in her eyes.

We’re half way out the door of In-N-Out when she turns to me. “Hey can we swing by Krispy Kreme on the way home?”

Good Lord, this woman.

Far be it from me to get in the way of her eating frenzy. “Sure thing.”

We do the drive-thru but then I decide to pull over so I can watch her devour another round of food. It’s entertaining. She keeps smacking her sugar-coated lips and she moans with each bite.

She’s halfway done with her maple bar when her mood suddenly shifts. Her eyebrows knit together like she’s trying to figure out a complicated problem. She turns to me. “Wait a minute. What’s the date again?”

“It’s the fifth, why?”

After frantically dropping the doughnut back in the bag, she rummages through her purse until she pulls out her cell phone. She swipes the screen, her fingers a blur. She looks up at me with an expression of horror and then back down to the screen.

“What?” I ask. She’s freaking me out.

“I’m a week late,” she whispers.

“Are you sure?”

She nods, tears already forming in her eyes. “Yeah, I’ve been in such a fog this week that it hadn’t occurred to me. Oh my God, Paul. What if you were right? What if I’m pregnant?” Her expression is twisted with fear like she’s suddenly trapped inside a horror film.

My heart is pounding. This isn’t how I thought this evening would go at all. She looks like she’s slipping down a slippery slope and needs something to hold onto.

I rest my hand on her shoulder and squeeze it before I start up the car. “Let’s make sure first.”

“Where are we going?” Her hands are pressed against her face.

“The drugstore.”

The whole drive she is rocking in her seat chanting, “Oh my God, oh my God,” over and over.

It reminds me of when I did this for my sister her first year of college when she was dating that asshole football player. Luckily her test came out negative. Maybe Elle’s will, too.

When we get to Rite-Aid she’s rocking so hard I’m afraid she’ll hit her head on the dashboard.

“Oh my God, oh my God . . .”

I realize that she’s in no shape to go inside. “Elle, I’ll be right back. Okay?”

She doesn’t respond, just keeps rocking.

I dart out the door and into the store like a man on a mission. I rush down several aisles before I find the potentially preggers section. With the sanitary napkins just to my right, it only takes a few seconds to be reminded that this is no place for a man. I scan the options: Early Detection, First Response, Clear Blue . . . blah, blah, blah. I grab three different choices and head to the front of the store hoping Elle hasn’t passed out in the car yet.

Why there’s a line at Rite-Aid at nine at night, I have no friggin’ idea. Yet it’s my lucky day when my Tinder trainer and pal, Gabe, gets in line behind me with a twelve pack.

“Hey, dude. How’s it going?” he asks, and looks down at what I’m holding before I have a chance to tip it away from his view.

Fuck.

I glance over to the check out stations and curse the old man in the jogging suit that’s demanding a price check.

“Hey, Gabe. I’m good, and you?”

He leans forward. “Well, well, look at that. You gearing up for daddyhood man?”