Page 77 of Gold Rush

Flynn scowls, then sighs. “I don’t have any either.”

I laugh. “Yeah, right.”

“I don’t. I wasn’t exactly expecting this”—he gestures between our bodies—“would happen while I was staying here.”

“Why not?”

“Why not?” he repeats incredulously. “Because, up until a few weeks ago, you avoided being in the same room as me and my idiocy. I figured living in the same apartment would make that a lot worse, not mean we’d wind up in bed together.”

“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” I tell the ceiling.

“Except when I can’t fuck you, right?”

I eye his erection, which hasn’t deflated at all. “I stopped taking birth control when I started law school since it made me … and since I wasn’t …” He doesn’t need every detail. “I’ve always used condoms. You could pull out?”

I’m desperate to experience what it’d be like to have him inside of me. And I’m worried this won’t happen again, that it’s only taking place because it’s so late and we’re in a strange situation where sleeping with anyone else could put our arrangement in jeopardy.

Even so, I can’t believe those words exited my mouth. I’m careful when it comes to everything, but exceptionally cautious concerning sex. An unplanned pregnancy is not part of my five-year plan. Just because the only part of that on track is my career doesn’t mean it’s time to abandon it entirely.

“I got a vasectomy in college.”

I still as the unexpected reply registers. A thousand guesses, and I wouldn’t have anticipated that response.

“So, it’s extremely unlikely you’d get pregnant,” he adds.

“I know how a vasectomy works.” I’m incredibly curious why he made that decision, but I’m not sure I have any right to ask. Or how to phrase the question.

“A friend died during my freshman year. I didn’t deal with the grief very well. Or, like, at all. Lots of drinking, drugs … sex. A girl came up to me right before winter break, saying she was late and I was the only guy she’d ever been with. I didn’t even recognize her. She got an abortion. I scheduled my procedure the day she told me. I was looking for distractions, not any responsibility. I was nineteen, and my dad was already going on about my future constantly, not caring that I didn’t give a shit about a career or marriage or having kids.”

“I’m really sorry about your friend.”

“Thanks.” He glances over. “I don’t like talking about it.”

“Understandable.”

“I’m clean. I haven’t been with anyone since the last time I was tested.”

There’s still tingling between my thighs. He’s still hard, his erection resting on his abs. But I’m not just surprised by what Flynn shared; I’m surprised he shared anything at all. Of the two of us, I’m supposed to be the one struggling with the concept of casual. This no longer only feels physically intimate, and I’m not sure how to revert to my sole focus being lust.

“Rory.”

I meet his gaze.

“Do you still want to?”

There’s a concerned crease in Flynn’s forehead and a tension to his jaw that wasn’t there a moment ago. And I realize … he thinks I’m judging him.

“Honestly?”

He nods. “Tell me the truth. Always.”

“I’ve never wanted to have sex more than I do right now. I just feel a little weird about that since you just told me about a terrible time in your life and confirmed that your dad has always been an asshole.”

It takes a second, and then a slow grin starts to spread across his face.

A few minutes later, I finally find out what sex with Flynn Parks is like.

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