Page 19 of Pucking Fate

“Oh, I do say so! It was a complete fluke that has never, ever happened again.”

“You couldn’t have explained that to me at the time rather than flee?”

“I should have told you. But…”

“But?” I prod when he pauses.

“You looked so confused.”

“I was confused!” Remembering to lower my voice so Finley won’t hear us, I go on to remind him, “You were acting like a jackass, and I didn’t know why. I thought I had done something wrong. We hadn’t even actually doneit. I didn’t take a pregnancy test for weeks after I was late because I didn’t think it was actually possible that I could be pregnant…”

Christian groans and leans down, resting his forehead against his dry forearm while his hands drip water over the sink water. “You didn’t do a damn thing wrong. Just…please stop talking about it. I still have PTSD from that night.”

Giving up on my plate of spaghetti, I dump it into the trash bin, then slip it into the soapy water in front of him. “Tell menow and I’ll never bring it up again. I promise,” I assure him quietly.

Christian doesn’t lift his head, he just mumbles, “There’s not much to tell. Touching you, hell, just seeing you like that…so sexy and innocent and eager, I got too…excited.”

“What?” He lost me in an unexpected, ridiculous attempt at flattery.

Keeping his voice quiet, his head still resting on his forearm, he says, “I was planning on starting with significant foreplay to make it better for you. But then we got undressed and started kissing and you were so wet and warm. I was barely knocking on the door, but you felt so damn good. And when you wrapped your legs around my waist, pulling me closer, it was all over. I thought I pulled away in time, but…”

Oh. My. God.

“You didn’t. Obviously,” I finish for him.

Turning his head to look at me, his hazel eyes are distressed when he whispers, “You were technically still a virgin when I left that night.”

“Really? I thought so since there wasn’t any pain like I was expecting…”

Clearing his throat, Christian lifts his head and stands up straight again to continue scrubbing the silverware while I try to wrap my head around his explanation.

The superstar playboy came before he was barely inside of me, failing to pop my cherry, and then somehow managed to pull out too late, all at the same time.

Holy shit.

Leaning my back against the counter, I mutter, “I gave birth to my son…as a virgin. Wow. I didn’t know that was even possible.” Christian groans before I go on to add, “And technically, I guess I’m still a twenty-five-year-old virgin…”

There’s a loudplunkas if Christian abruptly dropped something into the water. “Maya…”

“My lack of experience has nothing to do with you,” I lie while running my fingers through my hair, feeling his sympathetic eyes on the side of my face. “I was pregnant and then I was a mother. I don’t have time for dating and have had no desire to put myself in that whole embarrassing situation again.”

“Oh, Maya,” Christian says softly, his voice full of pity. “I’m so damn sorry. I wish I could show you everything that you’ve been missing all these years.”

“You blew your chance. Literally,” I point out. “I don’t want you to show me anything that you’ve done with dozens of women you barely know,” I say before I walk out of the kitchen, leaving the jackass to at least finish what he started with the dirty dishes.

8

Christian

I’ve spent years trying and failing to forget that one night with Maya.Years. And tonight, she had to drag me back down memory lane to the most embarrassing night of my entire existence.

I regret never getting my tongue between her legs most of all, making her feel good. She never even came on my fingers when we fooled around. Has she ever had an orgasm from a man if she’s never had sex with anyone?

My guess is no, and it’s all my fault that the beautiful woman has never let a man make her toes curl or her legs shake in pleasure. She’s still a virgin because of my fuck up years ago.

Grabbing a towel, I quickly dry my hands and then peek into the living room to make sure Finley’s still distracted with his hockey video game. Maya only lets him play for half an hour a day. By my calculation, he still has about ten to fifteen minutes left. There’s no way he’ll miss a minute of play.

Down the hallway, I go on a mission. One that will probably get me thrown out of the house, but that’s a chance I’m willing to take to make up for my mistake.

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