Another week passes. I get my period, and even though the disappointment crushes part of me, there's a strange, unfamiliar other part of my mind that's almost... okay, with this. Because no, I don't have my goal yet. I don't have a baby yet.

But that means I get to keep Cannon for that much longer. We get to keep doing... whatever this is, for at least one more month. One more month, and then, if I do get pregnant this time, I'll move out, like I promised. We'll go our separate ways—go back to just being friends. Like before.

I tell myself that's possible. I tell myself it's what I want.

I'm not sure I believe anything I tell myself anymore. But hey, it's the thought that counts.

In the meantime, at least we have Chris and Lacy's budding hookup to distract us. It's cute—almost cathartic, in a way, to watch two other people do the same dance that we're doing. The pretend-we're-just-coworkers-in-the-office dance. The try-not-to-flirt-too-much-at-group-events dance.

Lacy told me they finally hooked up a couple nights ago, and, what's more, they actually went out for dinner first. Like, on what sounded like an honest-to-God date.

Cannon thinks Chris might actually like her. But of course, I'm not telling Lacy that. Not yet. I'd much rather she protect herself for now, until Chris is sure he might want more than just a few nights of messing around. I know better than to get my girl's heart involved when it doesn't need to be.

After all, Lacy should learn from my mistakes.

As for me, I'm just trying to ignore all the warning bells going off in my skull and enjoy the moment while it lasts. Cannon and I have started going out on actual almost-dates too—sneaking off to dinner a few towns over, or out in the suburbs where nobody will recognize us. Going to the movies more often, even having a picnic night in with wine he brought home and dinner we cooked together and a picnic blanket spread on our living room floor.

It feels impossible. It feels easy. It feels normal and natural, and that's the worst part of all, because I know it's not. I know it has to end. I know what we both agreed.

But dammit, I'm starting to have second thoughts. I'm starting to think that maybe, for once, just this one time, NSA is too difficult for me.

For Cannon's sake, though, I know I have to tamp down that impulse. I mean, I asked the man to impregnate me for god's sake. That's a huge favor, and the fact that he willingly agreed to it shows exactly how much he trusts me and cares about me as a friend. The least I can do is return the favor and stick to the bargain we agreed to. Casual sex only. Friends only. And in another month, hopefully, if we manage to get me knocked up...

We both move on with our separate lives.

For now, I can ignore the knots in my stomach. I can pretend it doesn't make me feel crazy, because I can pretend none of it is happening.

Denial is a powerful skill, let me tell you.

Of course, my denial doesn't even know what kind of a test it's in for until we head to work on Friday. Our day starts out completely normal—I wake up in his room, because yet again, I failed my own personal, unspoken rule of always sleeping in my bed. (I've failed that more often than I've managed to stick to it lately, only sleeping in my bedroom three of the last seven nights). The moment we wake up, he drags me on top of him, holding me tight against his naked chest as we kiss. Before long, he pulls my legs around either side of his waist, and I can feel his morning wood digging into my hip. I grin and arch my hips to grind against him, which only makes him hungrier.

He slips a hand between my legs and laughs softly against my mouth when he finds me wet to the touch, because of course I am. "Somebody woke up thirsty this morning, dirty girl."

I always am around him. I swear, no one else can make me as wet as Cannon can with one simple look—a grin across the crowded office, a suggestive raised eyebrow when we're in the middle of dinner or watching our TV series, which we have sorely neglected ever since we started finding one another a hell of a lot more interesting. "Only as hungry as you are, dirty boy," I point out, rocking back against his hard-on, grinning as I feel his bare cock graze against my ass.

And this morning is no different. With a few strokes of his finger, he has me gasping, rocking against him, hungry as ever to feel him inside me. Filling me, in the way only he can.

"Did you dream about me, Rina? Anything dirty?"

"Absolutely filthy." I grin and lean down across him. Two can play at this game, and I slip a hand between his legs to stroke his length, toying with the base of his cock, trailing my fingers lightly all the way to his tip to run my finger along the precum that gathered there, then bringing my forefinger to my mouth and licking it clean, savoring the salty, seedy taste of him.

That does it for him. With a growl, he forces my knees apart, to either side of his waist, and grasps my hips with both hands. He positions me so I'm right above his cock, and tilts his head up to watch as he positions his cock directly at the entrance to my pussy. I lean down to watch too, loving the sight of him—so fucking big, bigger and thicker and longer than I ever knew I could handle, and I never cease to be proud of that fact. He presses into me, and we both gasp in sync, as I lower myself onto him, and he grips my hips tightly, controlling my fall, pinning me above him, right where he wants me.

"Tell me about it, Rina."

From this angle, his cock feels even bigger as he stretches me wide, fills me completely. I moan aloud with desire, though I keep my eyes locked on his face, because I love watching the affect I have on him too; I love seeing that he's as absorbed by me in these moments as I am by him.

"I dreamt about you bending me over my desk in the office and fucking me from behind," I murmur. My voice catches a few times, especially when he yanks me the rest of the way down across his lap and spears into me completely. My pussy aches at the sensation, but it's a pleasant ache, the bone-deep kind of pleasure that comes only from being as full as I can stand.

As full as only Cannon can get me.

"I dreamt about you too." He raises his hips, bucks up against me, and I cry out faintly as his cock drags along my walls, right down the front to glide over my G-spot. "You know what happened in my dream?"

I bite my lip. Strain to keep a hold of myself as he tightens his grip on my hips again, hard enough to leave a faint mark, and lifts me up off his waist, forcing me to rise up, and his cock to fall away from me. He holds me there above him for a moment, just before letting me fall again, driving him straight back into me. I cry out loud, pleasure flooding through me. "What?" I manage to pant in between rising and falling above him, as I put my thighs into it and start to raise and lower on my own, matching his rhythm. "What happened in your dream?"

He grins and rakes his gaze down my naked body to our waists where we join. Watches for a moment as I buck against him, as his cock glides in and out of my tight pussy. "In my dream, you were riding my big, thick cock, and screaming with pleasure. What do you know?" His dark eyes catch mine, full of humor as he smirks. "Dreams do come true."

I half-laugh, half-gasp as he twists under me to get a better angle and starts to buck harder, faster. Soon I'm rocking my hips in tune with his, riding him as hard as I can. He uses his hands to keep me going, directs me here and there, and at one point, reaches up with one hand to caress my breast, grips them and presses my upper body backwards so I bend back over his legs. That angle makes his cock drag along my inner wall even more forcefully, and I moan desperately, struggling to keep from hitting my release too soon.

He senses that, though, and in one smooth, swift motion, he rolls over, flips me underneath him, and flings my legs over his shoulders. My ass arches up off the bed, angled toward his hips, and he kneels in front of me, my body arched in front of him, and powers into me from beneath and behind me. My eyes flutter half closed as I moan, though I struggle to keep them open, to keep watching. I can feel his cock filling me completely, and it almost seems as though if I reached down, I should be able to flatten a hand against my belly and feel him there, that's how deeply he fills me.

At this angle, too, it doesn't take me long to climax. I come screaming his name, breathless with ecstasy, and he comes soon after, growling my name aloud as he drives into me, pumping my belly full of his seed, coming inside me for so long that I swear it's impossible I'm not pregnant yet. There's no way that this kind of fucking can't lead to a baby.

Finally, he unhooks my legs and lets me sink back to the bed, knees still up in the air, my now usual position. When he curls alongside me, I roll over and cradle my head against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, savoring his warm scent as it envelops me.

"I love waking up like this," he murmurs, so low that I almost wonder if I misheard him.

"Me too," I whisper. We lie in silence for a long moment, letting the words digest. Part of me almost wonders if maybe, just maybe, he's thinking the same way I am. Thinking about... more.

But no way. Not Cannon. Not my roommate. Not my resolute, only-for-pleasure sex-loving coworker. Not the guy I've known for seven years. He never gets his feelings involved. Not once, ever. This isn't any different. I can't allow my own misjudgment to cloud my views. I can't let myself just imagine what I want to see, when I know exactly what this arrangement is. Hell, I set the terms myself.

So, as much as it pains me to do it, eventually I force myself to slip out of his arms and stand up. I gasp again as a hot rush of our combined juices trickles down my inner thighs. But I ignore it and pad toward my own bathroom. "We're going to be late for work if we linger much longer," I call over my shoulder. I hear him groan and roll out of bed himself, headed toward his own shower. And I can't help but wish I were in there with him still. But I'm better off putting at least some distance between us. For his sake, and for mine.

* * *

We make it into work just in time for me to reach my 9AM meeting and for Cannon to salute his boss before his boss heads into his own 9AM. I spent most of the morning engrossed in emails, catching up on all the things I've missed. There's a ton of extra work for me right now as my manager prepares for her own retirement, and to hand over a large portion of her work to me. I'm simultaneously excited to be trusted with this much important work and also wishing it could have happened at another time—any other time.

Right now, I have enough going on. Between Cannon and the baby we're trying for, and Lacy and Chris, and my own screwed up head, which, in my hormonal state, won't stop trying to convince me that there's more between me and Cannon that I'm imagining...

But at least work gives me something different to focus on. Something that doesn't require any sort of investment of feelings—or at least, not any more feelings than I would normally invest in work. There's no danger of me accidentally falling in love with my legal assignments, at least.

So I throw myself headlong into paperwork for the better part of the morning. In fact, I stay there for most of the day, until late afternoon when I finally allow myself to get up and go for a much-needed coffee refill.

On the way there, I run across Chris and Cannon in the break room. I wave as I enter, since the two are deep in conversation, and I don't want to interrupt.

Cannon breaks off for a moment, telling Chris, "We can talk later," but Chris waves him off.

"It's fine, I don't mind if Rina knows. Me and Lacy decided we're keeping things on the DL, but we don't want to straight-up lie about it or anything. Our close friends can know."

My stomach leaps, and I can't help the bright grin that immediately explodes on my face. "You mean you guys are...?"

"We're... not not together," he concedes with a shrug. "I mean. We're not labeling it."

"Aww, congrats!" I squeal. Then I check my volume and glance over my shoulder at the open break room door, embarrassed.

Luckily Chris just laughs. "Thanks. So anyway, what do you think, man? You up for it?" He turns back to Cannon.

Cannon, for his part, shoots me a sheepish sideways glance. "I don't know..."

"If you'd rather not, it's fine. Just, she seems like your type. I thought you'd make for a good double."

My stomach does another flip, this time of the altogether unpleasant variety. "Double... what?"

"Date," Chris says with a smile.

My mouth goes dry, but I force my smile not to falter, my gaze not to flicker. "I see."

"You're welcome to come too," Chris says. "I'm sure we can find you an eligible bachelor to bring. Unless, that is, you have your eye on someone already." He locks gazes with me, almost challenging.

Was this a set-up? I'm going to kill Lacy, if so. I lift my chin and narrow my eyes at Chris. "No thanks. I'm not really in the dating mood at the moment." Then I raise my head, go for the throat. "But you should bring Cannon. It'll be fun. Right Cannon?" When I glance at him, there's a quick flash of something in his dark eyes—an unreadable emotion, one I've never seen before. For a second, he looks almost... angry? Upset? But that can't be right.

At any rate, he suppresses it in an instant, gaze locked on mine. "Definitely," he says, but he's looking right at me now, not Chris. "I'd love to come. What did you say your friend's name was?"

"Karen," Chris says.

"Karen. I love Karens. They're fun. Blonde, you said?"

"Bottle, but who cares these days, right? It all looks the same."

"Absolutely." Cannon keeps his gaze fixed on me, his expression unreadable. I can't tell if he's upset, angry, or actually excited about the prospect of this double date.

Doesn't matter. The thought of him out with Karen, whoever she is, churns my stomach into a solid mess of emotions already. "Excuse me," I stammer, reaching past the boys to hurriedly refill my water bottle. I bolt from the kitchen as fast as I can, though not before, unfortunately, I overhear more details from Chris about this Karen person. Her measurements, her intellectual properties ("she's not a genius, but she's pretty, I'll give her that"), a slew of other characteristics that only makes me hate this poor, innocent woman all the more, for nothing more than existing and being a pawn in this twisted game we're playing.

It's fine, I try to tell myself once I'm back in my own seat. Cannon is a free agent. His own person. He's totally free to do whatever he wants, with whomever he wants. Including going on a double date with Karen.

Half an hour later, my phone buzzes with a text from him.

Cannon: Are you sure you're ok with me going on this? I don't mind canceling. I can make up some excuse to Chris that won't give us away.

Me: No, really, it's fine. You're free to do what you want. Same as me. Have fun.

Cannon: I'm only going if you're really okay with this.

I lean up in my chair and swivel around until I catch his eyes across the office. Then I force the biggest, dumbest grin I can possibly manage.

Me: Of course I'm okay with it, dummy. NSA, right?

I add a winky face for good measure.

Across the office, Cannon reads the texts, then glances up at my smile. Back and forth for a few moments, his own expression still inscrutable, just like earlier. Finally, he responds.

Cannon: OK. I'll be home late tonight then.

I sit back down in my chair to disguise the way that message hits like a blow to my gut. It will be fine, I repeat to myself, over and over, as the afternoon progresses. You're used to this. Cannon used to bring home girls all the time and it never bothered you, remember? He was the biggest player around.

But that was before. And if nothing else, this double date has proven to me, more than any other incident so far has, that things have changed. I have changed.

I just hope that for the sake of our friendship, I can pretend I haven't, at least until our arrangement ends.