My lips part to challenge him, because someone needs to point out how ridiculous this all is.
"Are you seriously telling me," I say, finding my voice, "that you just chucked my birth control into the ocean, then promised to knock me up?"
His lips curve into something that's not quite his usual smirk. It's softer somehow. Teasing. Dangerous. "Would you rather I left it to chance?" His voice drops lower, intimate. "Left us wondering, waiting?"
He moves closer, backing me against the counter again.
"Tell me you don't want this, too." His hand hovers near my belly, not quite touching. "Tell me you don't want it every f*****g bit as bad as I do."
My hand finds his where it hovers over my stomach, and I press his palm flat against me. His fingers spread wide, possessive and protective all a
