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Edging into the kitchen, I nodded.

He cracked a couple of eggs into a bowl he’d dug out of the cabinet. “That makes doing dinner and a movie hard.” He paused, glancing back over at me. “By the way, I really want to fuck you when your glasses are on.”

Warmth swept across my cheeks. “You are so naughty.”

One side of his lips kicked up. “Babe, you have no idea all the things I want and plan to do to you. Years’ worth of ideas.”

I gaped at him. “Years?”

“Years,” he insisted. “Anyway, back to the dinner and the movie. I was thinking we could do more like a lunch and then grab a movie another day since it will be hard to work both in with our schedules.”

All I could do was stare at him as he found seasonings and made the omelets. He was making plans for us—multiple days’ worth of plans. That damn swelling feeling was back in my chest.

“It’s either that or wait until we’re both off next Monday,” he said, raising his arms over his head and stretching as the omelets cooked.

Dear Lord, that sight—all the muscles rippling, the pants hanging indecently low—was pure sin.

“But I really don’t want to wait until Monday. Do you?”

“No,” I whispered.

Omelets finished, he pulled the pan off the burner, and I finally moved. I grabbed two plates and glasses out of the cabinet. “So how does Thursday sound?” he asked, slipping one perfectly folded omelet onto a plate. “I know Friday will be tough for you with visiting Charlie. So we can grab lunch.”

I blinked back sudden tears again. Dammit, he was . . . so thoughtful. Hurrying to the fridge, I grabbed the tea. “Thursday would be great.”

“You okay?” he asked.

When I turned, he was placing the plates on my table, but his eyes were on mine. Clearing my throat, I nodded as I walked the jug over to the table and then grabbed the silverware. A look of doubt was on his face.

“I’m okay,” I said as I sat. He was slow to sit down across from me. “It’s just that . . .”

“What?” he asked, watching me closely.

“It’s just that . . . I’ve liked you for so long, Reece. A really long time.”

The grin was back. He picked up a fork and offered it to me. “Babe, I know you have.”

I stared at him blandly. “Did you now?” I cut off a piece of omelet and popped it my mouth. “Oh God,” I moaned. “This is good.”

“Told you. But yeah, I spent a good part of that time ignoring that you liked me, because there was a high chance your father would’ve gutted me if I made a move on you before you were old enough to buy liquor. And by the time that rolled around, well . . . shit was going on . . .” Reece frowned as his features tensed. “Wait. Damn. I just thought of something. Did we use a condom that night?”

My stomach dropped all the way to my toes. If I hadn’t been sitting down, I probably would’ve fallen over. Oh shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. I had total shit for brains as I stared at him.

Blood drained from my face as I clenched the fork. The tasty omelet turned to dust in my mouth.

“Fuck,” he said, scooping up egg. “We didn’t use a condom, did we? Guess that’s water under the bridge at this point.”

Taking a deep breath, I straightened my shoulders. It was truth time. Hopefully not crash and burn and sob time. I placed my fork on the table. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Perhaps that wasn’t the best way to start this conversation.

A piece of fluffy egg dangled off his fork as he sat back against the chair. His brows rose. “Is there?” The tone was level, but it made me shiver nonetheless. “About what, Roxy?”

“That night.” I swallowed, and the small amount of omelet I had eaten soured in my stomach. “When I drove you home.”

He stared at me a moment and then finished off his omelet. Pushing his plate back, he rested his bare arms on the kitchen table. “What about that night?”

My heart was pounding like I’d just done sprints up and down my hall. “I honestly don’t even know how to say this, other than I wish . . . I wish I’d talked to you sooner and realized that you weren’t regretful of sleeping with me. That it was more of you regretting being so drunk. I was just so embarrassed and mad—”

“Yeah, I know you were mad. That’s nothing new,” he cut in. “And like I said, I wish I had clarified what I was saying when I had the worst hangover known to man.”

Me, too, but that wasn’t the point. Like Charlie had always said, I was kind of the act-first-and-never-ask-questions kind of gal. This mess was mostly my fault. “That night, once we made it back to your place, things got . . . well, they got really hot and really quick.”

“I figured as much,” he commented dryly.

Lowering my gaze, I blew out a long breath. “When we got back to your bedroom—which is a really nice bedroom by the way. Totally loved your bed. It’s huge. Nice comforter, too.”

“Roxy.” His lips twitched.

I dropped my hands to my lap, curling them into tight fists. “We didn’t have sex, Reece.” There. I said it. Like pulling off a band aid.

His brows knitted together as he tilted his head to the side. “What?” he laughed.

“You . . . you passed out before anything could happen. We didn’t have sex.” Saying it out loud made it easier to keep going. I met his disbelieving stare. “We started to, but you passed out, and I stayed with you to make sure you were okay. I didn’t realize you were that drunk until then.”

Reece stared at me.

“And when you woke up in the morning, you . . . you thought we did have sex,” I explained quickly. “You had looked at me and said last night shouldn’t have happened, and I wasn’t thinking about the fact we didn’t actually do it.”

Leaning back against the chair, he pulled his hands off the table and then put them right back. Silence.

Unease blossomed. “The morning just got away from me. You know why, and I left, and . . . I just . . . the whole situation got away from us—from me. You were avoiding me. And I told myself that I needed to tell you as soon as we started talking again, but . . .” A ball formed in the back of my throat, making my voice hoarse. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you that morning. I should’ve pulled my head out of my ass and told you then. I was going to tell you last night, but it didn’t seem right to do so. But that . . . that was our first time, Reece. There was no other time before that.”