You’re Mine by Penny Brooks novel Chapter 146

Harper

 I’m light for the rest of the night, like a dark cloud has been lifted and all I can feel is warm sunshine.

Easton warns me at one point that the chance I could still be pregnant is possible but I can't even let that thought enter my brain.

Nope.

I’m not pregnant.

I took two tests proving exactly that.

Feeling impulsive, I attack Easton in the living room, straddling him as he’s trying to watch some corny Christmas movie on the Hallmark Channel.

My boyfriend, the secret romantic? Yes, it's possible.

“Babe, come on.

I need to know if this chick is the real daughter of Santa,” he says, his hands resting loosely on my hips as he looks around me so he can stare at the TV.

“Forget that chick.

She’s not Santa’s daughter,” I tell him, grabbing him by the shoulders and leaning in so I can give him a long, tongue filled kiss.

We come up for air a few minutes later, his hair a mess thanks to my hands and his fingers cupped firmly around my left tit, his arm tunneled beneath my sweater.

“How do you know?” I roll my eyes.

“I watched the movie with my mom last week.” We kiss some more, until I'm basically dry humping him and he’s helping me along, his hands firm on my hips as he shifts me back and forth over his erection.

I pull away slightly, my fingers seeking when he tries to wrench away from me.

“What are you doing?” I ask, exasperated.

“I just had a thought.” “What is it?” I lean in to kiss him again but he averts his head.

“You were sick a few weeks ago.

You went on antibiotics,” he says.

“Yeah, so?” “I've heard that can make birth control less effective.” His gaze locks with mine.

“Maybe that’s what happened.

And maybe you’ re actually pregnant.” A sigh leaves me as I crawl off his lap and fall onto the couch, sitting right next to him.

“You're ruining the mood.” “I can't stop thinking that you might be really pregnant.

What if that test is wrong? They're not one hundred percent foolproof, are they? We probably should’ve bought some other ones, just in case,” he says absently, his gaze growing distant, as if he’s lost in thought.

“It claimed to be pretty accurate on the box,” I reassure him, but he’s not having it.

“Nothing is guaranteed, babe.” He sends me a look, like I’m so silly for believing that we're in the clear.

“We won't know anything until you get your period.” Another sigh leaves me and I cross my arms.

“Like I said, you’re ruining the mood.” “And I can’t stop thinking about the possibility of us having a baby.” He shakes his head, his gaze finding mine.

“That's some trippy shit.” “For sure,” I agree, realizing I'm not going to get what I want tonight.

Oh well.

I enjoy spending time with him.