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Her expression is glassed over, and she walks toward the back door. My heart shoots up into my throat as panic and regret surge over me, but she doesn’t touch the knob. Instead, she’s staring out at the deck and backyard beyond.
“You’d want me to live here with you for at least a year and a half?”
“Yes.”
“That’s a long time to live with someone and not be involved with them.”
It is, and I honestly don’t know why I’m asking for her to other than for some inexplicable reason, I want her here. I like the control of it. I like knowing I’ll be the one to take care of her and make sure she wants for nothing.
“We both work long hours, and neither of us is looking for anything romantic. If it didn’t work or if we felt it was too much, we could obviously discuss that and renegotiate at any point.”
“You’re very businesslike.”
I bite down my smile. “I’m a fucking mess,” I admit. “Look at me, I’m sweating like a Mafia boss in confessional.”
“Good.” She turns, her eyes shining against the evening sun as it casts through the glass of the back door as she studies my expression. “I’m glad I’m not the only one.”
My head bows and my hands go to the back of my neck. “When I saw you in the restaurant tonight, when I heard all that you were saying…” I blow out a breath. “Fuck, Katy, I had to take this risk. I had to ask you. I’ve wanted this for so long and nothing in my life is right, and maybe this isn’t either, but I’ve got nothing, and this felt like a chance at something.”
“I think that’s the most honest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
I laugh mirthlessly. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.”
“I don’t either.” She laughs, and my lips reluctantly tug up into a smile. This girl’s energy and life infuse my dull, empty one. “I assume I’d have my own room.”
“Of course. I have four bedrooms in this house including mine. You’d have your pick.”
“What about sex?” she asks bluntly, sideswiping me. “Will you be bringing women home? And what if either of us meets someone?”
A rip current of jealousy grips me by the chest and sucks me under so fast and furiously that I can’t fight it or swim away from it. The thought of her meeting someone else, especially while she has my baby growing inside her has me seeing red. I don’t think I could stand that. It’d drive me insane, and yet, how do I tell her not to live her life or meet someone when I’m not willing to be that man for her?
“I’d rather us not do that while you’re pregnant,” I manage though I grit it out through clenched teeth, and I’m sure she can hear the strain in my voice and see it across my face.
Thankfully, she doesn’t comment on my strange reaction to her basic question. “So no sex with anyone else during the pregnancy? The same goes for you?”
“Yes,” I say easily because I can’t imagine doing that with another woman, casual or otherwise, while I have another woman carrying my child and living with me. I’ll miss sex. Hell, I already do—it’s been a while—but this is more important to me than sex, and hopefully, I’ll have plenty more sex ahead of me once we’ve had the baby and things settle down.
“And how do we make this baby?”
“What?” That pulls me up short, and I stand to my full height. “I thought you were looking for a sperm donor.”
“I am.”
“I thought you were celibate.”
“I am.”
My eyebrows slant in and I tilt my head, studying her. “I don’t understand then.”
She laughs as if she doesn’t either. “I’m looking for a donor and I’m celibate, but you’re talking about going all those months to possibly years without sex. I don’t know… I’m panicking, I think.” She laughs again, wiping a stray tear that slips out. “This is a lot to absorb, but you were so honest with me, so I’m going to be that honest with you. I can’t imagine going that long without sex. Other than surgery, sex is one of my favorite things to do. It’s already been five months and eight days since Zane, and yes, I’ve kept track because I’m celibate, but another year and a half without it feels like a death sentence.”
My cock surges with blood at hearing her say that, but I ignore it and cross the room to stand before her. “Are you suggesting we have sex?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. That seems like a bad idea. Like a really bad idea, right?”
“I have no way to answer that.”
“You’re my boss and we’re talking about having a nonromantic kid together.”
