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His eyebrows rise. “For what?”
“For everything. I shouldn’t have started the conversation. About being a donor.”
“Of course you should. I was extremely honored that you asked me.” His eyes are open and honest—he means it.
“Yeah, well, I should have thought more about the fact that you’d already had to go through being a distant father once. I should really have spoken to Mack or Titus first.”
He stiffens, and his eyes flare. Ohhh… he doesn’t like that.
There’s a long silence.
“Are you going to ask them?” he says eventually.
“I’m thinking about it.”
His jaw knots. He’s gritting his teeth. I’m enough of a woman to feel a touch of smugness that I’ve made him jealous. Then I think how ridiculous that is and feel a wave of tiredness. I’m going to bed at seven tonight and I’m going to sleep for twelve hours.
He inhales, then breathes out slowly. Finally, he says, “Before you do that, I want you to think about my offer.”
“Which offer was that?”
“The one to do it the old-fashioned way.”
It’s my turn to look surprised. I’d assumed that conversation had been provoked by the whisky.
I frown. “I said no, remember?”
“Yeah. I happen to recall every detail of what happened last night.” His eyes gleam. Is he talking about the kiss? Or my diatribe about sex?
“I’m not sleeping with you,” I say with some exasperation.
“One night,” he says. “And I’ll get you pregnant.”
“For a start, as you pointed out, there’s only a thirty percent chance.”
“Okay, but one in three is pretty good odds.”
“That may be, but it’s not going to happen.”
“Why?”
“Because Reasons, Hux. I described them all last night in great detail.”
“I remember.”
“This is about sex,” I say impatiently. “Because I said it’s overrated, and you feel this ridiculous testosterone-fueled desire to put me to rights.”
“Not at all. Okay, a little bit. Can you blame me?”
“You only want me because you haven’t had me. Deny it.”
“I do deny it. But let’s pretend you’re right. Give me one night and you’ll cure my obsession and have a one-in-three chance of walking away with a bun in the oven at the same time. Win-win, right?”
“Jesus. Romantic, much. And I thought you didn’t want to be a distant father? I still don’t understand how this is any different to jerking off into a cup. You do that every morning anyway, as I recall.”
He gives me a wry look, then says again, “Give me one night. If after that I haven’t convinced you to give me—us—a chance, I’ll walk away. I swear.”
His sheer arrogance infuriates me. “You’re that confident of your abilities in the bedroom that you think one fuck will make me put my broken heart into your noncommitting hands?”
