“So…this would be your first time?”

Gray smirks. “Sure.”

I run my hands up the back I was just admiring. “I heard there’s a first time for everything.”

A dimple pops out, creasing his cheek like a comma.

Impulsively, I lean forward and lick it.

“I’ve heard that too.”

Then, he’s kissing me—a kiss I feel everywhere. He’s everywhere.

With a muttered curse, he pulls away. “Hang on. I need to grab a condom.”

“Wait! I have one—I think.” I move my leg to the side and lean over, pulling out one of the drawers just below the marble edge. In the very back is the box of Band-Aids I’m looking for. I open it and shake three condoms out.

Gray laughs. “How long have those been there?”

“High school. Sloane and I went out to buy them.” I squint at the small letters. “Do you think they’re expired?”

“Definitely.”

“Damn it.” I toss them back in the drawer.

Gray walks back into the bedroom, still chuckling. But when he returns with a foil package in hand, he looks serious.

“Who were they for?”

“Huh?”

He’s rolling the condom on, and it’s a distracting sight.

“The condoms. Who were they for?”

“Oh. Um…” The only guy I fantasized about having sex with back in high school was…him. “No one. Obviously. I never used them.”

Something in Gray’s expression makes me think he knows the real answer. I don’t think he was oblivious to my feelings for him when we were younger. It’s just something we never discussed. And it’s definitely not something I want to discuss right now. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to either. He thrusts inside of me—deeper and faster than I expected, even though I was expecting it. There’s no pause this time. No asking if I’m okay. It’s rough and fast and greedy and desperate, and I love every second of it.

I’ll never be able to look at this bathroom counter the same way again.

“What about this one?”

“A minivan? Seriously?”

Gray shrugs. “You said under ten thousand.”

“I need a car to drive myself to and from work. I’m not transporting six kids to soccer practice.”

“Yet.”

I eye him. “What does that mean?”

“Don’t you want kids?”

“I don’t know,” I reply, flustered. “I mean, probably. Maybe. Why? Do you?”

It feels extremely weird to be discussing kids with the guy I’m currently sleeping with. Or that I’ve slept with—a total of three times, to be specific—since I’m not sure if it’s going to happen again. Family planning didn’t come up between sex on the bathroom counter and him offering to come car shopping with me over breakfast. I’ve never discussed marriage with a guy, let alone kids. I didn’t even know Logan’s Starbucks order.