The Knocked Up Plan(26)

She gasps. “How could you say such a thing?” Her voice drips with mock shock.

“Admit it. All you’re thinking about is stripping me down to nothing.”

Callie shuffles farther away from us. Smart girl.

“Why would you ever think that all I want is your . . .” Nicole pauses, slides her lips up my neck, and whispers, “cock.”

One word from her red lips and my dick responds as it fucking should. I yank her closer so she knows. “I have no idea where I got the idea that you were into me for my body only,” I tease.

A murmur falls from her lips when she presses against my erection. “I’m into your body for so many reasons, Ryder.”

I nip on her earlobe. “My date is counting down the hours till she can get me naked.”

“By my estimates, I think that in about sixty minutes, I can get these pesky pants off you,” she says, running a hand down the fabric of my workout pants. That’s what the trapeze lessons call for—exercise clothes.

I sigh heavily as if I’m dejected. “I’m nothing but a sex object to you.”

A throat clears.

“Oops,” Nicole whispers to me. “Guess we’re too dirty.” She raises her voice. “Sorry, Callie. He’s going to try to knock me up later tonight. We might be a little frisky sometimes.”

Callie’s expression morphs instantly from embarrassed annoyance to sheer joy. “That’s so exciting! I love babies. You two are going to have such beautiful babies.” Then worry seems to strike her. She steps closer to Nicole and clasps a hand around her arm. “Is there a chance you’re pregnant now? Because you shouldn’t be flying.”

Nicole waves off the concern. We planned the trapeze date for our first one for just that reason. Get all the bouncing, flying, falling, and jumping out of the way before Nicole might be in the family way.

“Nope,” Nicole says to the instructor. “We’re starting tonight. This is our foreplay. Can you tell?”

Callie sighs with relief. “The last minute might have been a tip-off.” She gestures to the swings. “Are you ready?”

“We’re ready to behave now,” I say, my tone deadly serious.

I climb down the ladder and walk to the other side of the net. God bless the huge net. The only way newbies like us could fly through the air is with the cushiest, safest, biggest net below us. As well as waivers. Lots and lots of waivers. And tons of harnesses. You can’t really get hurt here unless you try hard.

As I reach the top of the opposite platform, Callie’s counterpart on this side gives me a quick hello. His name is Mitch, and he has a camp-counselor brightness to him. Once I’m attached to the harness, I chalk up my hands.

“Are you having a good time?” Mitch asks with a big smile.

“A great time.”

“Best date ever?”

Briefly, I think of Maggie and our dates. My ex was outdoorsy, but not daring. She liked to head out of the city and hike in the woods. Since we loved movies, we spent many nights at the cinema. But trapeze was never in the cards, nor trampoline, nor rock climbing. I haven’t taken anyone here since my divorce, either. Honestly, I haven’t dated much since the split, and I wouldn’t be here if Cal hadn’t said my ass was on the line.

I swing my gaze to Nicole, more than a hundred feet away. “Definitely a great first date,” I tell Mitch.

He gives me a toothy grin. “All right. You’ll need to hop on then go upside down.”

Once I grab hold of the bar, Mitch barks, “Safe to go.”

I step off the platform and whoosh. I’m fucking flying. It’s as thrilling as it was the first time I did it tonight.

“Feet up,” he calls out as the swing arcs. I lift my feet up and hook them over the bar, and then Mitch calls out, “Arms free.”

I drop my arms below me, hanging on with my legs. This is like the loop on a whip-fast rollercoaster. Everything is a fast rush as the world flips into a topsy-turvy blur.

Callie shouts instructions at Nicole, who swings at me.

“Let her build up speed,” Mitch yells.

I give a thumbs-up as I arc closer.

From my vantage point, speeding upside down, I don’t take my eyes off my date. Nicole moves like a monkey, and in mere seconds, she’s switching from hanging by her hands on the bar to holding steady with her feet hooked over it.

“Hands catch,” the instructors shout in their shorthand as Nicole soars to me, her red hair in a long ponytail below her, her arms reaching for me. I stretch out my arms, hands ready. Closer, closer, and here she is.

For a brief moment, nerves spike inside me. But I shove aside hair-raising images of what could go wrong, and do what I have to do. I grab hold of her hands, and she takes mine.