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Doing It for Love

By:Cassie Mae

Doing It for Love (All About Love #1)
        Author: Cassie Mae

       
         
       
        
Chapter 1


AUGUST

Not pregnant.

Praise Jesus.

I chuck the negative test in the bathroom trash with a shimmy and a shake. Pregnant at twenty-two was not what I pictured when I did my aptitude test seven years ago. Those results said I'd be some sort of performance artist. I pictured myself famous, in all the Broadway plays, living in my penthouse suite with my best friend, Theresa, and having weekend nookies with Chase Crawford. Kids were on the bucket list under: hell yes … when I'm married. Obviously, I was a dreamer at fifteen. Now that I'm more a realist, I've learned to be happy with whatever life has to offer me.

But I am happy that it decided not to offer me a baby right now.

I start the water on the shower because I feel like I peed all over myself when I attempted to aim on the stick. Aunt Flo is fourteen days late, and I've been avoiding Landon and his semen. Not that he's noticed.

If sex was a three-course meal, Landon and I would be the peas and carrots. We're good together, but we're still the vegetables. Basically we do it when there's a commercial on, when there is no food in the fridge, or it's someone's birthday. It's okay … that's what happens when you move past the honeymoon stage.

We used to be strawberries and whipped cream. Luxurious dessert, grinding on each other on public dance floors, car sex, kitchen sex, against the wall sex, balcony sex-which was an epic fail, by the way-and the always disastrous shower sex. Disaster because our bathtub is made for one person only, and so lying down ended with a faucet to the butthole and standing up made for slippery recoveries. But we were strawberries and whipped cream, so we'd laugh it off, not let it break the mood, jump into bed, and keep at it.

I refuse to think we've become raisin bran-the sex you have only because you have needs to take care of-despite what Theresa says. She's permanently the palate cleanser between courses in her own sex life, and she's not budging anytime soon. But she just hasn't found her Landon yet.

Anyway, back to Landon not noticing the lack of sex. It's because we're so busy all the time. He works all day at a call center then he goes and films all night. He's a director-in-training-got an award for his last movie and a grant to make the one he's working on now. So he comes home smelling like sweaty socks-which he loves to leave on the floor in the living room. That's what peas and carrots do, though.

It's funny, for so long I wanted to know the story after the happy ending. What happens to the couple once they find each other, consummate their relationship, and get past their demons? Now that I'm in that story, I get why no one talks about it. I'm in love, so it pretty much trumps all the other crap. At least, it has so far. Despite Landon's dirty laundry-literal-and his late nights-also literal-he makes me laugh. I've never had so much fun with another person. Even being vegetables, sex-when we have it-is fun. Probably why I wish we had it more. 

Better check the effectiveness of my birth control first, though.

A hand whips back the shower curtain, and I scream like a banshee and chuck my washcloth at the attacker.

"Sweet mother," I say, holding my heart. "What the hell?"

Landon slowly peels the washcloth from the bill of his The Nightmare Before Christmas hat. He's wearing his matching graphic tee, a red stain on the upper right sleeve. Probably from the pizza he had to gobble between his job and his shoot this afternoon.

"Liz," he says, holding the pregnancy test between two fingers. "What is this?"

"It's a negative pee test. Don't worry."

"Did you think you were pregnant?" He chokes on the word.

"Yes, but I'm not." I lean forward and kiss his shocked lips. "So don't worry."

He lets out this large breath, chucking the test back in the trash. "Fine, but you must promise on your precious iPod that you will tell me next time you think you are."

I hold my hand to the square. "I vow to dispose of all my late-period secrets." I drop my arm. "Now may I shower?"

"How long you going to be?"

"Normal."

"So till the hot water is out."

I put a finger to my nose, and he pulls his cap off. His shirt goes next.

"Joining me?" I ask, my lady nethers perking up. It's not even my birthday. What a sexy surprise.

"Yeah, I won't have time in the morning."

"Oh." Calm down, girls, it's just one of those "saving water" things, and not because I'm naked, he's naked, and we're going to be wet and slippery.

His cold hand splays across my stomach when he steps in, and I refuse to let my nethers get their hopes up again.

"You okay?" he asks, scruff tickling my neck.

"Yeah, why?"

"Paint me paranoid," he says, backing me into his chilled body. I move the water so he warms up. "But I think something's wrong. And I'm not letting you out of this shower till you tell me."

A twitch of a smile finds itself on my mouth. "I'm fine."

"Good thing you're naked." He taps my ass. "Your pants wouldn't stand a chance."

I shake my head, biting back my laughter. "You're a tease."

"Why?"

He knows why. The last time we showered together, he held me close like this, got me all revved up, then grabbed the soap, washed himself, and left for work. It's not his fault. I did the same thing the time before that. Again, comes back to being the veggies of the sex meal.

"Okay. The guessing game," he says when I don't answer. "I'll play, but you know I don't like it." He gently rocks me. "Your vampire show didn't record?"

I snort a laugh into the water. "I haven't checked. But it better have."

He swipes my hair off my neck, and I feel his smile against my skin. "Hmm … the Jets have no shot at making the playoffs. I feel your pain. I cried it all out last night. Now it's your turn."

I playfully elbow him in the stomach, but despite my abuse, Landon's arms tighten around me, thumb reassuringly rubbing my hipbone.

"No … I think I know what this is really about." He pulls at the skin by my bellybutton. I raise an eyebrow because there is nothing wrong. I'm just horny.



       
         
       
        

"Did you want a baby?" he asks, and my jaw drops.

"Huh?"

"It's okay if you did. I … I mean, I want to have kids with you someday."

Someday … yes. But not today. I grin at the scared-as-hell look on his face. That's the great thing about the longtime relationship. I know his looks. I know his smiles, his frowns, his laughs. I reach to him, and his hand slips through my wet blond hair, hugs the back of my head, and pulls me into his shoulder. I lock my arms around his torso, ignore the sweet buzzing all over my stomach and heart and sides. His fingers massage my scalp as he rocks me.

"I like the idea of having a permanent piece of you," I admit into his wet skin.

"You already have a permanent piece of me." One of his hands slides down the length of my back. "Hell, you have the whole thing."

"You know what I mean."

"Okay … if you really want … I'll impregnate you. Open up." He pushes at my thighs, and I smack his shoulders.

"Pretty sure I want us to be married first. And I don't know … older." Like years ahead of us. We can barely afford to feed ourselves.

"You … you said married."

"I did."

I push back on his chest, and he scratches his dark hair. "Just letting you know I'm not freaking out about it."

"This is not freaking out about it?" I say, circling my finger at his face. It could be the steam from the shower making it smoke red, but it sure doesn't seem that way.

"I let it slide like it was nothing."

"You did not."

He growls, playfully nipping at my neck. "Well, I'm not freaking out," he muffles against my skin, creating goose bumps up and down my spine. "Because, you know, we're in the spot."

"Huh?"

"You know, the spot."

"In the shower?" I laugh when his red face darkens a shade.

"No, I mean … I love you. And it's not like I'm going to break up with you. And I'm pretty sure you want to be stuck with me."

"You think we're stuck? That's 'the spot'?"

"No. Shit, it's coming out wrong."

"I don't even know what you're trying to say." I laugh, bending down to adjust the heat on the water.

"I'm saying there's no reason for me to freak out because I want to marry you. I think, you know, we should get married."

My hand stops dead on the tap, and I crick my neck to catch his expression. He's gone from red wine to white in the blink of an eye, water dripping from his dark hair down his forehead, and he frantically wipes it away. Then he reaches for me, pulls me up against him, hiding his face. 

"Um … what did you just say?" I croak, my heart suddenly beating out of my skull. A tidal wave rushes through my stomach, and my nails dig into his shoulders to make sure I'm not dreaming or something.

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