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“What’s in it for you?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
I shake my head. “That can’t be true. You just offered to give me your sperm, and we’ve only known each other a day. Why?”
Nash breathes deep, getting somber, and says, “My life is sort of incompatible with the idea of having a family. I live on military bases, I’m constantly moving around, I never know when my job will put me in the line of danger. But I’ve always wanted kids. Coming home and spending time with Chelsea, and then meeting you, it just reinforced that desire. If I can’t raise a family of my own, then helping you start yours could be the next best thing.”
I’m studying his eyes, the depth of emotion in them, and I believe everything he’s saying. This whole situation is crazy, but I kind of love it.
“I’m not asking to be a father,” he goes on. “I only get thirty days of leave every year, so it’s not like I’ll even be around to bother you if you want to raise this baby on your own.”
This baby, like it already exists, like we’re definitely doing this. Together.
“No strings attached,” he says. “Don’t pick some anonymous guy. Let me help you.”
I take another deep breath, let him kiss me, let myself fall into him… and then I put a hand on his chest and push him away. “I need to think about it.”
“That’s not a no.”
“It’s not a no,” I confirm as he gets up again, actually succeeding at putting his pants on this time.
“I have to leave on Saturday afternoon,” he tells me. “Think about it… but not too long.”
And then, he’s gone. I fall back on my pillow, caught up in the most powerful emotions I’ve ever had about a man, wrestling with the biggest decision of my life.
8
Nash
The next afternoon, once I’m done having lunch with my parents and Quinn downtown, I beg off from our traditional post-meal trip to the Golden Creek Creamery and head to the library instead. I fucking love that frozen custard and I know I’m going to be craving it the whole time until my next leave—believe it or not, authentic gelato just does not compare—but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Nora and I’d take her over custard any day.
I find her sitting at the circulation desk, checking out a stack of YA science fiction to an eager-looking teen. When Nora spots me, her eyes light up but then worry crosses her face.
“Nash, what are you doing here?” she asks when the teen walks away and it’s my turn at the desk. “I thought you said you were busy all week.”
“I stole a few minutes back,” I say. “I was nearby having lunch, and I just had to come in and ask if you’ve given my proposal any further thought.”
Nora’s cheeks color and she puts her index finger to her lips. She actually shushes me, and I can’t help grinning, even while I’m being scolded.
“Don’t say it like that!” she whispers. “People are going to think you proposed.”
“Sorry,” I whisper back. “I mean, I did propose something, and I don’t want to pressure you. I just wanted you to know that it wasn’t just the heat of the moment. I was, and am, serious.”
“Shh,” she says again, then steps out from behind the circ desk, looping her arm in mine. She’s leading me away, calling over her shoulder as she goes, “Hey, Cassidy, can you cover the desk for just a minute?”
The woman she’s talking to looks a lot like her—same wavy hair, same brilliant eyes—and she’s giving Nora an incredulous look. “Sure, sis.”
“Sis?” I ask as Nora practically drags me into the stacks.
“My baby sister,” she explains.
I chuckle. “Ah. Now I get why we can’t talk about this at the circ desk.”
She leads me around a couple of corners and doesn’t stop until we’re deep in the stacks. It’s quiet back here, with no one around in the middle of the day. Nora’s hair is shimmering in the light from a nearby window, and I take a moment to appreciate her curves in the flowing skirt she’s wearing.
“You’re a knockout, you know that?” I know I came here to talk about serious stuff, but I can’t help myself. I press her up against the stacks, my hand hooking under the hem of her skirt and venturing up her thigh.
Nora turns her face up to mine, parts her lips softly, and I kiss her, my cock hardening as our tongues glide over each other. Fucking hell, getting it on with a naughty librarian in the stacks is every young bookworm’s fantasy, but I never actually thought it would happen.
“I can’t get enough of you,” I murmur against her skin.
“Me either,” she breathes, her palm brushing over the front of my pants, turning my cock to steel.
