The Pregnancy Project

“Hey,” he said and casually pushed his glasses higher on his nose, as if she’d seen him wearing nothing but a towel a dozen or more times.

Because she had, especially in college when they’d lived in the same dorm with a communal bathroom. But that was before he’d filled out so much. Before he’d decorated his skin with something as...sexy as a tattoo. Before she’d deliberately introduced a plethora of hormones to her body that obviously rendered her stupid and prone to being affected by the sight of Dante’s bare chest.

Before he’d kissed her and she’d felt all those muscles pressed up against her.

A blush prickled her cheeks and she spun, turning her back to the half-naked man that she couldn’t reconcile with the one she’d known for years and years. Things were supposed to be back to normal. The same. What had happened to her sweet, slightly banal feelings toward her friend?

God, she’d always thought of Dante as sexy in a sort of detached way because of course he was good-looking. Sexy. It was just a word, but all at once, the root of the meaning became painfully clear because there was nothing detached about what was happening to her body.

“Harper. Are you okay?”

His voice washed across her skin as he called out from behind her. He’d said her name before. Lots of times. Using that same voice he’d always had. And yet it was not the same at all.

It was deeper, with more color. Was he also remembering that kiss that should be forgotten but clearly couldn’t be removed from her memory? Was he thinking about how it would feel to try that kiss again while he wore nothing but a towel?

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