Cop a Feel (Handcuffs and Happily Ever Afters) by Robyn Peterman Page A

God,” Luke barked with laughter. “I was sure you would knee my nuts and kick me off your property last night.”
    I flopped over to my back and glared at him in frustration. “I guess you were never a boy scout.”
    “What in the hell does that mean?”
    “It means,” I said as I rolled off my bed, “that you’re not prepared. I, on the other hand, am.”
    Luke grabbed my arm and stopped me from going to my drawer for protection. “Are you on the pill?”
    “Yes,” I answered slowly, knowing where this was going and unsure if it was a good idea.
    “I have a clean bill of health and haven’t been with anyone else since we started sleeping together a year ago,” he said, watching me closely for my reaction.
    I knew he expected me to freak out. I actually wanted to freak out. He wasn’t supposed to say anything like that, even though I wanted him to. Fuck. What was I supposed to do with this information? Truthfully, it delighted me and terrified me both.
    “I haven’t either,” I whispered, looking away.
    “I missed that,” he said, and pulled me closer.
    “I haven’t either,” I yelled, and tried to dislodge myself from his arms.
    He had other plans. After he picked me up and deposited me in the bathroom, we brushed our teeth and he proceeded to pee.
    “You have got to be kidding me.” I rolled my eyes and looked at the ceiling.
    “What? I had to pee. Don’t you need to pee?”
    “Yes, I do, but I am not going to pee in front of you.” I wasn’t sure if I wanted to laugh or scream. “If you leave the toilet seat up, I will hurt you.”
    “No worries.” He grinned. “I didn’t put it up in the first place.”
    “On my God,” I muttered, leaving the bathroom. “This is never going to work.”
    “Yes, it is,” he yelled after me.
    I grabbed some yoga pants and a T-shirt and yanked them on before Mr. I Have No Inhibitions Whatsoever came back. He sauntered back into my bedroom in all of his naked glory and a pout settled on his pretty face.
    “I thought I was going to get lucky.”
    “You were until you peed,” I told him, and tossed him his jeans.
    He laughed and pulled them on, neglecting to do up any of the buttons. If he thought that would turn me on, he was right. I trained my eyes on his face and waited.
    “Don’t you need to potty?” he asked, grinning like a naughty child.
    Damn it, I did. I waltzed past him, slammed the bathroom door, and locked it. I wouldn’t put it past him to barge in. The thought made me giggle and I bit it back. I ran a brush through my hair and swiped on some gloss. If we were going to talk, I needed just a little bit of pretty on my face. I avoided mascara just in case I cried, which I had no intention of doing, but I’d done a lot of things lately that were way out of my usual MO.
    When I walked back into my room, he was gone. My stomach cramped and my breathing hitched. I slid down the wall to the floor and let my head fall to my hands. Had he left? Had he gone without saying good-bye? Was he pissed because I’d put the kibosh on his morning sex plans? What an asshole . . . and I almost let him do it without a condom. I was every kind of idiot all rolled into one. I got up and stomped out to my kitchen. I needed caffeine and then I needed to hunt him down and shoot his balls off.
    I was so wrapped up in my ire, I didn’t even notice the object of my wrath seated at the table with a cup of coffee in his hands and an icy glass of Coke sitting at an empty spot waiting.
    “Men suck,” I shouted at the cabinet as I yanked out a glass for my morning ritual.
    “That’s a little harsh.”
    “Shit,” I screeched, whirling around and slamming myself up against the counter.
    His chuckle made me want to slap him, but my relief that he was still here kept my hands glued to my sides. “I thought you left.”
    “So I can see. Sit down. I poured you a Coke.”
    “How did you know I drink Coke in the morning?”
    He said nothing and just drank his