Free Caught Up In You (Edgeplay Part 2) by Jenna McCormick Page B

feel like an idiot because I was all set to walk out the door, but his desperate pleas really got under my skin. Letting him have so much power over me, allowing him sweet talk me after being such an ass, it made me a little sick at the power he had over me.
     We talk about where I am in my cycle and when the unprotected sexual activity occurred. She takes my temperature and blood pressure and hands me a packet with two small pills. “Take these twelve hours apart within 120 hours of unprotected sex, preferably with food. Some women experience nausea if taken on an empty stomach. I have a pamphlet here that with some more information.”
    “I really appreciate this.” I look down at the pamphlet. At least one of my problems will be solved, temporarily.
    “Has he ever hit you?” The doctor asks quietly.
    I whip my head up. “No! It’s nothing like that. Connor would never hurt me.” Even as the words come out, I think about his fear of becoming physically violent, or raping me. Why is he always so concerned about that?
    Pushing my doubt aside I say, “It’s complicated. Him and me. But there’s no violence and I can leave whenever I want. This isn’t an abusive situation, he’s just panicked I might get pregnant.”
    The doctor nods, though I can’t tell if it’s in acceptance. “Here’s my card. Call me if you need help. With anything.” She leaves the definition nebulous.
    I follow her back down the hall to the front door, where Connor paces restlessly. His head whips up and his gaze focuses on my face.
    I smile at the doctor and we shake hands. “Thank you, Doctor Trammel.”
    Connor hands her a check, then blinks when she rounds on him. “Is everything alright?”
    “She’s a sweet girl, Mr. Edge. Be good to her.” Her tone is abrupt.
    “I’m doing my best.” He sounds slightly defensive, but mostly stunned.
    “Try harder.” She nods once more to me and then strides out the door.
    “I think you have an advocate.” Connor tone is full of awe. “I can’t remember the last time someone was so unimpressed with me. Especially after I paid them.”
    “Money isn’t everything,” I tell him.
    He puts his arm around my shoulder. “Are you alright?”
    I’m not sure how to answer that one. “I need something to eat so I can take this.” I hold the pill up.”
    His eyes light up and he grins at me. “I’ll cook for you. What do you feel like?”
    “Something light. Pasta maybe.”
    “Come keep me company.” He strides off toward the kitchen as though with renewed purpose. His mood swings are giving me whiplash. Maybe he’s the one who needs his hormones regulated.
    Connor’s kitchen is a work of art. A soapstone countertop spans three sides, with a built in breakfast bar acting as the fourth. I sit on a barstool and take it all in. I’m no chef but I can see every gadget and appliance is top of the line. “You really like to cook?”
    He nods, chopping fresh herbs while waiting for the water to boil. “It helps relax me. Cooking is like business, once you understand the basics and gather quality ingredients; it’s all about intuition and bold improvisation.”
    Within minutes he set a huge bowl of rotini in a white wine sauce in front of me, then turns and reaches into one of the glass front cabinets for a goblet. “Wine?”
    I shake my head as I pick up my fork. “Water, please.”
    He nods and retrieves a bottle or Perrier from a pantry bigger than my bedroom. “You don’t drink much, do you?”
    The food is delicious, but my stomach keeps cramping up, so I push my plate aside. “No.”
    “Will you tell me about it?” He takes a seat on the barstool next to me.
    “It’s not exactly dinner conversation.” No way am I spilling my guts first. He’s promised me an explanation and I’m holding out for one.
    “Another time then.”
    “Are you going to tell me?”
    “Soon,” he murmurs, pushing food around his plate. I haven’t seen him eat a bite, yet.
    The silence