I arch a brow. Not drunk but still willing to talk to me. I’ll take it. “Sure. Upstairs?”
Her cheeks flush bright pink. “Just to talk.”
I lean on the bar across from her and lower myself so I’m level with her. “Don’t worry,” I say softly so only she can hear. “I’m not planning to fuck you right now.” I look at my watch. “You’ll be headed to work in eight hours, and the first time I get you naked, I’ll require far more time than that.”
Her pink cheeks flame brighter. “First of all, be quiet or someone will hear. Second of all . . .” She straightens and folds her arms, giving me a once-over before she lifts her chin. “You wouldn’t know what to do with me for that long.”
“Challenge accepted.” I scan her face. Those soft brown eyes, flushed cheeks, gently parted lips . . . “Come on.” I head to the back hall and the stairs to my apartment. I don’t let myself turn back, but I can hear her behind me.
At the top of the stairs, I unlock the door to my apartment and hold it open for her. She walks in right past me, hitting the lights for us on her way. I close the door behind me and lean against it, waiting for her to start talking.
She wanders around my living room, her arms crossed, her gaze roaming around the space as if she’s looking for answers. I wait, not wanting to rush her or what might be the most important conversation of our entire relationship. I expect her to have reservations. Hell, I like the idea of us having a baby together, and I have reservations. Most of them fall under the heading of What if She Never Feels This Thing I Feel for Her?
Suddenly, she spins to face me. “Are you serious about what you’re offering? Because if this is your idea of a big joke, Jake . . .” There’s so much vulnerability in her eyes that my chest aches.
“Shit. Of course I’m serious. Do you think I’d joke about something like that?” I want to cross the room and pull her into my arms. Instead, I press my palms against the door and force myself to stay put.
She swallows. “I don’t know. I just can’t figure it out. What’s in it for you?”
I drag a hand through my hair and grimace. That’s a loaded question, and she’s not ready for the answer.
She rolls her eyes. “Sex, yeah, I get that, but you’re not that hard up. This could change things between us. That terrifies me. You’re my . . .” She chews on the inside of her bottom lip. “You’re my rock.”
“It doesn’t have to change anything.” But hell, I’m hoping it’ll change everything, and for the better.
“I need to make sure you understand my situation. It’s not as if we’re going to be able to get drunk one night, sleep together, and get the job done. I mean, maybe? But . . .” She drops her gaze to her shoes. “The whole time Harrison and I were married, we were trying for a baby. We had no success. Obviously.” She lifts her gaze to meet mine. “This might not be any different.”
The look on her face makes something unravel inside me. It’s as if even admitting there’s a chance that her body won’t cooperate causes her physical pain. And the idea that she needs to prepare me for this? As if her struggle to get pregnant might change how I feel about her, or that I won’t want to get on board if I have to touch her more than once? That is insane. “Ava . . .”
She holds up a hand. “Harrison would get so frustrated with me. It got to the point that he didn’t want to have sex with me at all unless he knew I was ovulating, which was tough to know, since I’m broken.”
“You’re not broken.”
“You know what I mean.” She tries to smile, but the effort does little but highlight the worry around her eyes.
I take a step closer, but she’s still not close enough. She won’t be until she’s in my arms and wants to be there. She won’t be close enough until she’s come there on her own. “Let me get this straight,” I say softly. “You were trying to have a baby, but you weren’t really having much sex.”
She draws in a breath, then nods slowly.
“And he wouldn’t have sex with you, but then when you didn’t get pregnant, he blamed it on you.”
“In a nutshell.”
Jesus. Leave it to fucking Harrison to screw her up like that.
My loathing for her ex-husband just reached a whole new level, but I keep my poker face in place and nod. “You’re telling me that if this is going to have any chance of being successful, we’ll need to have regular sex.”
“And even then, there’s no guarantee,” she says.
“Right. So I need to understand now that we might need to have regular sex for months, and months, and months.”
Red creeps up her neck and into her cheeks. “That’s what I’m saying.”
“That sounds terrible,” I sa
y, taking a final step forward, getting as close to her as I can without scaring her. She smiles for real this time and smacks my chest. I grab her hand and hold it there, and the contact is better than I imagined. “Your husband was an idiot, and I’m nothing like him.”
“Okay.” She swallows and nods, and the hand on my chest curls into my shirt. Her pulse flutters in her neck, telling me her heart’s beating as fast as mine. “We’re really going to do this?”