“I’m pretty sure there’s no way to say that and have it sound good.”
He ducks his head. “Okay, you’re right. I take it back.”
“Nope, too late now.” I stand and frown at him. I’m not upset about the comment at all, but this is how we are. Always messing with each other.
He takes my hand, and with puppy dog eyes, says, “Tell me how I can make it up to you.”
I shake my head. “You can’t make this better, Benjamin Carter.”
He winces. “The whole name. That hurts. Gunshot straight to the chest.”
I press my lips together to suppress my laugh. “You deserve it.”
He dives at me suddenly, and I squeal when he picks me up and I land over his shoulder. “And you deserve this.” He slaps my ass and jogs up the steps carrying me.
I laugh so hard that tears fall from my eyes. “Ben, put me down!” I plead.
“Shhh—” he smacks my ass again “—my mom’s sleeping.”
I slam a hand over my mouth, mortified that I forgot about his mom.
Ben opens the door to his childhood bedroom and drops me onto the bed.
His room is painted a shade of blue that almost looks gray and the walls are littered with posters of sports figures and trophies. His old helmet from high school football sits on a shelf along with other memorabilia from that time period. Basically, his room is a time travel to the decade before.
His bedspread is a navy blue, but the best part is his sheets covered in footballs. They make me laugh every time I see them.
Ben stares down at me and there’s a glint in his eyes. One that tells me I’m in trouble in the best possible way. He lowers, covering my body with his, and I shiver.
“You’re a bad girl.”
I raise a brow. “Am I?”
“The worst.” He grins and kisses me. I melt into the kiss, but just as quickly as he started it, he ends it. He stands and declares, “Bedtime.”
Jerk.
I pout. “But—”
He shakes his head and grins at me.
I stand and shrug. Fine. Two can play at this game.
I kick off my shoes and remove my sweater. I then wiggle out of my jeans, purposely swaying my hips. His eyes follow my movements and the hunger in his eyes grows.
Gotcha, I think to myself.
His Adam’s apple bobs and he stares at me as I stand in only a tiny pair of black lace panties and matching bra. It isn’t my normal sleeping attire since I hadn’t planned on us staying the night, but it is certainly doing its job in tantalizing Ben.
“Goodnight,” I say with a grin and pull back the covers on his bed, slipping beneath them. I purposely pull them all the way up, hiding my body.
Ben’s eyes darken and a second later he pulls back the covers. I lie almost completely exposed on his bed and blink up at him.
“Ben?” I say, fighting a winning grin.
He jumps onto the bed over me and I giggle but quickly quiet my sounds. The bed bounces and he holds himself above me.
“I love you even if you drive me crazy,” he growls, pressing his lips to my neck.
“Love is crazy.”
He kisses me. “That’s true.”
He presses his lips together, almost nervously.
“Ben?” I prompt after a moment when he says nothing.
“I want to talk to you about something.” He rolls off of me and settles onto the bed beside me.
“Okay?” I question, his nerves making me nervous.
He smooth’s his fingers over my cheek and his eyes flicker to mine. “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”
“Ben,” I plead, “you’re killing me here.”
My mind is running through a million different scenarios.
He’s being transferred to another hospital and we need to move.
He wants to postpone the wedding.
He doesn’t want to marry me at all.
He—
“I want to have a baby.”
My mind stops—completely shuts down.
“What?” I gasp. A baby? I couldn’t have possibly heard him right. We’ve talked about kids, but always said we’d have our first child a few years after we were married.
“I know, I know,” he says, almost like he’s reading my thoughts, “this isn’t what we talked about. But it feels right, don’t you think?” Before I can respond, he continues, “We’re going to be married soon, and people say it usually takes a few tries to actually get pregnant, so I think we should start.”
He looks at me with big, earnest, blue eyes. “B-But our plan. My business. Your residency. Nothing is complete yet.”
“But it will be,” he says, toying with a piece of my hair. “I want us to have a family. Don’t you want that? What if it takes a while? What if we’re one of those couples that has to go an alternate route? Wouldn’t you rather know now and not when we’re in our thirties?”
I sit up and press my fingers to my temples. “You’re freaking me out,” I tell him.
It’s not that having a baby is a bad thing. I want kids, but I’ve always been someone that’s terrified of the unknown.