My Darling Jane (The Darlings)

In my apartment, I’m rummaging through my closet, searching for the least appealing outfit I own. Babs is sprawled on my bed and watches me with a bewildered expression.

“You do realize you’re supposed to look nice when you go out, right?” she asks, flipping through a magazine.

I pull out a baggy, faded T-shirt and a pair of old jeans with a questionable stain on the thigh that I could never get out when I washed them. “I’m going for the just-rolled-out-of-bed look.”

Babs puts down the magazine and stares at me. “Why?”

I toss the clothes onto the bed and start searching for shoes, settling on a pair of old sneakers. “It’s strategic. If I look like a mess, maybe Jasper won’t be so Jaspery around me.”

Babs snorts. “Honey, Jasper could probably find charm in a potato sack. You dressing down won’t change a thing.”

“I swear, Babs, it’s like walking into a lion’s den every time I see him.”

I pull my hair into a messy ponytail with strands falling down and examine myself in the mirror. “Perfect. I look like I’ve given up on life.”

She shakes her head. “He’s going to think you’ve been cleaning house for a week.”

“Exactly,” I say, nodding with a sense of accomplishment. “It’s foolproof.”

Babs gets up and adjusts the old, striped cardigan I pulled on. “Well, you definitely look sad. I’ll give you that.”

I grab a tote bag that used to belong to Gran, ignoring my stylish purses. “I haven’t shaved my legs in a few days. I’m a complete man repellent.”

As I head to the living room, where Londyn is, Babs calls out, “Hey, maybe you should smear some dirt on your face?”

I consider it for a moment. “No, that might be too much.”

Londyn looks up from the race car she’s running over the carpet. “Where are you going, Mommy?”

I kneel down. “I’m just going to see a friend. Jasper. Do you remember him?” She’s been around him a few times at social events, but it’s been a while.

Londyn shakes her head, her big eyes curious and innocent. She scrunches up her nose. “Boys are silly. Andrew makes funny faces.”

“Yes, boys can be silly.”

Londyn nods earnestly, then holds up her race car. “Will you bring this to Jaspie? He can play with it. It’s superfast.”

Jaspie? So cute. Wait. Not cute. I can’t get gushy about what Londyn calls Jasper.

I take the car, feeling a flutter in my chest at her thoughtfulness. “Of course, sweetie. Jasper will love it.”

She beams, then looks serious. “But make sure he gives it back. It’s my favorite.”

I stand up, tucking the car into my bag. “I’ll make sure he takes good care of it.”

Londyn runs up and wraps her small arms around my legs. “Have fun, Mommy.”

I bend down and hug her back as I give her a kiss on the top of her head. “You have fun too. Be good for Babs, okay?”

Stepping out the door, I take a deep breath. Jasper may be expecting the polished, put-together Jane, but tonight, he’s getting the real me. Let’s see how he handles that.

I approach Wickham and take in the elegant facade, rising majestically.

As I step inside, the doorman offers a courteous nod, his uniform crisp and tailored. My gaze drifts across the lobby and sitting areas, the gold sconces adorning the walls, the floral arrangements. It’s a world that seems almost surreal in its extravagance.

I’ve been here before to visit Emmy and Graham. It’s fancy with a capital F.

I feel a little out of place, and I don’t miss that the girl at the desk gives me a hard look. I just smile and wave.

Jasper waits next to the elevator with an air of confidence as he watches me approach. I think his lips twitch.

He’s wearing jeans and a white button-up shirt that seems tailored to highlight the golden tones of his tan. His hair is up in a man bun, accentuating his gorgeous bone structure.

“Hey. You made it. I’m shocked you didn’t cancel,” he teases with a playful edge.

“I keep my word,” I retort lightly.

He rubs his hands together in mock anticipation. “So, is this a date?”

“It’s a meeting about your next match.”

“Sure.”

He holds the elevator door for me, and I step inside. We’re alone, and the air crackles around us. Or maybe it just crackles for me. I don’t know. I really don’t. I feel him giving me subtle looks, but I keep my focus on the mirrored wall in front of me as I clutch my tote bag.

Pretending I’m confident, I stride into Jasper’s apartment, anticipation buzzing under my skin. I’ve heard rumors about how big it is, but I’ve never been inside. I stop in the foyer, taking in a wide-open space that’s all sharp lines and minimalist chic, with a den, kitchen, and formal dining area. Heavy wooden beams crisscross the ceiling. “Wow, Jasper, compensating for something with all this space?” I say as I look around.

He chuckles, leading me through an area with concrete. Everything is decorated in white and beige and gray, the kind of place you see in magazines and wonder if anyone actually lives there. It’s a shrine to masculinity, from the leather couch to the massive flat-screen TV on the wall above the fireplace.

He gives me a tour of the kitchen, then moves to three different bathrooms, then pauses at a double door.

“My bedroom,” he says in a husky tone, and I give him a glare.

I’m half expecting more of the same. Instead, he opens the door to reveal a moody room draped in burgundy and black, with an ornate king-size four-poster bed that wouldn’t look out of place in Dracula’s castle. There’s even a black canopy over the top.

“Welcome to the chamber of secrets,” Jasper says, a grin evident in his voice.

The room has an intimate feel.

Against one wall stands a massive antique dresser, its surface hosting a collection of candles. Their scents linger in the air.

Artwork hangs on the walls, but it’s not the kind you’d find in a typical bedroom. There’s a framed painting of a moonlit night over a forest. Another frame holds a painting of a castle on top of a mountain. A huge standing mirror in one corner seems to be the only piece in the room that reflects light.

I can’t help but gape. “Should I be worried about a coffin in here?”

He chuckles. “Funny.”

I run a finger along the back of an antique-looking chair. “This is unexpected. It’s so different from the rest of your place.”

“It’s my private domain. Plus, it’s a great conversation starter.”

“Do you have lots of conversations in here?” I picture him rolling around in that bed, his broad shoulders and long legs intertwined with the black sheets as he fucks someone.

I push the image out of my head.

Without replying to me, he leads me back out to the den, with floor-to-ceiling windows that frame the Manhattan skyline.

I hear giggling and glance over to see the two girls from Carson’s coming down the hall toward us.

Jasper sighs, a bit of dread on his face as he looks at them. “Jane, meet my nieces, Macy and Lacy.”

“I’m Macy,” the one in the ponytail says with a smile.

“And I’m Lacy,” says the slightly shorter one. Her hair is down, and I make a mental note to remember which one is which.

“You’re really pretty,” Lacy says as she throws a playful look at Jasper. “Uncle J., you’re stepping up your game.”

He rolls his eyes in mock exasperation. “Don’t start. Jane’s just a friend.”

“Great to meet you,” I reply, suddenly feeling nervous. They’re his family, and maybe a tiny part of me wants to make a good impression.

Jasper heads toward the kitchen. “Can I get anyone something to drink?” he calls out over his shoulder.

The twins ask for sodas, and Jasper hands them over.

They begin a spirited recounting of their day at a dance camp they’ve been attending at one of the theaters.

Soaking it all in, I make my way to the kitchen island, taking a seat on one of the high stools. On the island is a huge plate of bacon, already cooked, with thick slices of sourdough bread.

“We’re having BLTs,” he says. “One of my specialties.”

Macy flits around, helping him. “Where’s the mayo?”

“Fridge. Where else?” he says, grabbing a piece of already-cooked bacon and popping it into his mouth.

She pokes her head up from the fridge. “I can’t find it!”

“What are you, blind?” he says, moving her out of the way. “Stand aside.”

A second later, he pulls a squirt bottle of mayo out of the fridge. “If it were a snake, it would’ve bitten you, dude.” He sets it down.

“You didn’t slice tomatoes?” Lacy says, with her hands on her hips.

“Tomatoes are the devil’s fruit,” Jasper says. He picks one up off the counter and tosses it to her. “If you want it, you cut it.” He pauses. “Jane, do you want tomato? I’d cut one for you.”

I shake my head. That’s one thing we can agree on. Tomatoes are yuck.

In the bright light of the kitchen, it’s obvious the girls are super young. Lacy is actually filming herself as she makes a sandwich, and the other is twerking to Taylor Swift and mouthing one of her songs.

“Cut out that music, and leave something for our guest,” Jasper says, getting in the video and making a face.

Giggling, they grab their sandwiches, Cokes, and phones and sit down at the island.

It’s all so casual that I feel relaxed.

I go up to the counter and start to make a sandwich. He stands across from me, doing the same, piling lettuce atop a piece of bread.

“Pickle?” he asks. “It’s so good with bacon.”

“They are worse than tomatoes,” I say, taking too much bacon for my sandwich.

He opens the lid, and I wince. He notices. “What?”

“The smell. So gross.”

He brings the jar to his nose. “I don’t smell anything.”

I laugh and push him away.

He quickly puts the lid back. “Better?”

I nod, feeling shy that he’s so sweet. We settle in around the island, and the girls ask me questions about the bookstore and Londyn. The questions really start when I tell them that I’m Jasper’s matchmaker.

They look at Jasper and giggle. “Why do you need someone to find you a date? What about all those girls that tuck their numbers in your hand every time you go out?” Lacy asks.

I swing my head toward him, eager to hear his response since I’ve been asking myself the same question.

He wipes his mouth with a napkin. “I’ve been doing that, and it hasn’t worked out. Figured it was time to try something new.”

Macy leans in. “So, Jane. How are you going to find our uncle a date?”

I swallow the bite I’ve been chewing. “I have to ask him a bunch of questions to form a profile, and then based on that, I feed it into my system and it gives me possible matches.”

Jasper nods. “Apparently, I filled it out badly the last time. Which landed me Abigail.”

“Oooh,” Lacy says, making a face. “We heard about her. She’s a viper.”

“How did he fill it out?” Macy asks. “Did he talk about how he likes Vampire Diaries way too much?” She giggles.

I smile at them. “What is his deal with vampires, am I right?”

They nod.

“He’s into folklore. He digs old stuff,” Macy tells me.

“So what kind of questions do you ask?” Lacy says, nibbling on a piece of bacon.

“Well, maybe you can help me with that.” I reach into my bag and pull out my laptop. “Sometimes, a person doesn’t know themselves as well as other people know him. Maybe you could give me a better picture.”

The girls bounce on their seats, excited, but Jasper is less enthused. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Lacy claps her hands. “No, it totally is! We can help.”

“Good,” I say, opening up a blank profile and typing in his name. I honestly have everything I need from Jasper since our convo at my apartment, but it’s fun to play along. “So, girls, what are your uncle’s bad habits?”

They look at each other, grinning slyly.

Behind me, Jasper warns, “Nope. Don’t gang up—”

“He snores. So loud. Like a bear in hibernation,” Lacy says, then mimics a loud growly sound from her throat.

“Oh my god, it shakes the house! And every time he sees us doing our TikTok dances, he feels the need to jump in and be our backup dancer,” the other says, with an eye roll.

I laugh.

“And he is the worst twerker ever,” Lacy says, nodding. “He looks like a duck. And when he comes in the room and it’s too quiet, he always has to announce, ‘Jasper is here.’”

“Lie detected!” Jasper calls out. “I do not talk about myself in the third person.”

“Right!” Macy reaches over and grabs her twin’s hand excitedly. “Or what about how he can’t ever say anyone’s actual name? He has to call them by a nickname. Usually, a really clichéd one. He calls us ‘Thing One’ and ‘Thing Two.’”

I laugh. “He calls me ‘angel.’”

Jasper blows out a breath. “You had a costume on. What did you expect?”

“He can’t even tell us apart, really,” Lacy says. “We’re not even identical. I don’t have a dimple. I’m Lacy.”

“I can too,” Jasper mutters. “Macy is an inch taller.”

“Right,” Macy says, shaking her head at him, then turns to me. “And you should hear him sing in the shower. He usually sings Disney songs, and he doesn’t even know all the words, he just makes them up.”

At that, Macy starts to sing in a terribly high falsetto, miming holding a microphone.

Lacy grins. “He loves sweet and salty snacks. If you dig around in his bed, I bet you’ll find SNICKERS-bar wrappers or ALMOND JOY. Those are his faves. Once I caught him eating CHEETOS in bed. He tried to hide it, but I saw. I’m a teenager, and even I don’t eat in my sheets. He cleaned his room before you came over.”

I can’t help it. I’m giggling, too, and when I look at Jasper’s steely expression, it makes me giggle all the more. These girls are a blast.

I’m typing in his pretend profile when Jasper looks over my shoulder and warns, “Don’t put any of that in there.”

“Why? This is great stuff. It’s good to keep it real.” I swat him away. “Okay, girls. Enough of that. What are some of your uncle’s best qualities?”

“His best quality?” Macy says, in all seriousness, “He can burp the alphabet. Really fast.”

“All right, all right! That was one time in college. One time!” Jasper says over her. Who would’ve believed it only took a couple of seventeen-year-old girls to put a crack in his ego.

Macy sighs. “He sends his mom flowers every month. That’s pretty cool.”

Jasper shrugs. “She deserves it after putting up with all us kids.”

Lacy smiles. “He’s got a big heart. He special orders bracelets for each football player at the start of the season. He loves to have people around him. He’s just a big old teddy bear.”

Jasper shoos them away. “All right, you’re just trying to butter me up for something. Get out of here.” He checks his phone. “You told Francesca you’d babysit. Jump to it.”

As they grab their plates and toss them in the garbage, Jasper explains that former player Tuck Avery lives in the penthouse with his wife and two kids, and it’s been good for Macy and Lacy to babysit for them. He gives each girl a playful tug on the hair as they vacate the room, scamper down the hall, and out the door.

I’m perched on the edge of Jasper’s couch, and he’s across from me.

“So I read you majored in world history?” I ask, genuinely curious. “That’s not something you hear every day.”

“I love history, but my favorite topic is folklore.”

“Hmm, like what?”

“Old fables and even fairy tales like ‘Snow White.’ Folklore can be songs or art or anything that reflects a culture.”

He points out a couple of books about Pandora’s box on some shelves behind him. I get up to see them. “Impressive,” I murmur.

I glance back at him, finding his gaze on me, an intense look in his eyes. It’s disarming, and I quickly divert my attention back to the bookcase, noting the classic fiction nestled among the books.

He continues to surprise me.

The silence between us stretches like a rubber band.

I dart my eyes at him and catch his gaze, a flutter of something twitching in my stomach. It’s ridiculous, really. One night of passion, and here I am, trying to decode his every look, every move. It’s as if that night added an extra layer to what we are.

Sure, we’ve always danced on the fine line between friends and, well, not enemies, but certainly not allies. Now, though, every interaction feels loaded. It’s strange how one orgasm can alter the dynamics of a relationship I thought I had pegged.

And what bothers me most is my own reaction to it all. I actually followed him to his date with Erin!

Part of me wishes we could reset to before things got so muddled. But there’s another side of me that wonders what it would be like to cross that line again.

Ugh. Reality snaps me back. Jasper and I, we’re like fire and ice. He’s a wealthy, famous quarterback that even Abigail wanted to see again, even though she knew he wasn’t a true match. And me? I’m struggling to make ends meet. I don’t have time for a man in my life.

So why did my heart race on the way here?

What is this hungry feeling inside me, for him?

I tell myself to snap out of it, to remember what I want. The only thing I should be passionate about is my business. It’s my future. And Londyn’s. I don’t need a man to complete me. But as I steal another glance at Jasper, that conviction wavers.

He tosses me a smirk, and I smile back at the teasing glint in his eyes. Here we are, alone, and it does feel like a date. Dammit. He’s so hot. And, yes, he’s fun to be with. Those tarot cards he read for me? I mean, it wasn’t even a big deal, but he made me feel important and valued, and maybe a tiny piece of me wanted to believe the words he said, about good things coming to me. I kept the three of them—the Star, the Ten of Cups, and the Lovers—on my nightstand, and I’ve looked at them each day, wondering about some of the things he said, about family and emotional bliss, about love.

With a mental shake, I push the thoughts away. He’s just Jasper. We’re sort of friends, and that’s all we’ll ever be. Anything more spells disaster. After all, he’s friends with Graham, and if we dip our toes into whatever is brewing between us and it blows up in my face, I’ll still have to hear about him and see him at get-togethers.

No. I can’t let my guard down.

I clear my throat. “Um, I think I need some water.”

I move to the kitchen, but he moves to block my way. I brush against the solid wall of his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from him.

“You’re running away, angel.” His voice is a low murmur, and I can’t help but look up. His hand touches my arm, just a featherlight touch, but it might as well have been a bolt of electricity.

The air around us thickens. I can barely draw a breath. There’s something in his eyes, a depth of emotion like he’s on the edge of revealing something significant, something that’s been weighing on him.

“Yes?”

The intensity in his gaze doesn’t waver. It’s as if he’s peering straight into my soul, searching for something. The room falls away until there’s nothing but the two of us.

I wait, heart pounding, for whatever revelation is about to spill from his lips. But the words don’t come. Instead, we remain locked in this silence, a push and pull of emotions.

He shakes his head. “You know, forget it. It’s not important.”

It was. I know it was. I point toward the kitchen. “Water. Do you want some?”

“Jane, wait.”

I’m in the hallway and turn around, and he’s right behind me. He smirks. “Your hair is falling down. I’ll fix it,” he says as he reaches for my scrunchie and tugs at it. My hair spills around my shoulders.

A breathless moment passes as he runs his fingers through my hair, arranging it into a messy knot. Tingles dance over my skin.

My throat moves. “Does it look better?”

He makes a humming sound in his throat as he turns me to face him. “I’m going to kiss you.”

I feel lightheaded, clearly recalling what his last kiss led to. I should say no, I really should, because he’s waiting, pausing, giving me the chance to pull away.

Okay, pull away.

Now, Jane. Do it now.

“I’m waiting,” I say, and it’s all he wanted to hear. He pushes me against the wall and presses his lips to mine.

My hands move from his chest to circle his neck as I tug him closer, eliciting a low groan from him that reverberates through my body. His arms snake around my waist, pulling me flush against him, and I can feel every hard inch of him.

He deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring my mouth with an urgency that matches my own. His hands roam up and down my back, tracing the curve of my spine before settling on my ass. I gasp as he squeezes me.

“Jane,” he breathes, breaking the kiss. His forehead rests against mine. “You’re making it hard for me to stop.”

“Don’t stop.”

With a growl, he lifts me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist. He carries me down the hallway toward his bedroom, our lips never leaving each other’s.

We reach his bedroom, and he kicks the door shut behind us with a force that makes me laugh.

“What about the twins?”

“They won’t be back for a while.” He pauses. “We don’t have to do this, I mean, but if you think about it, this might help you write the profile.”

“Totally,” I agree as I press my lips back to his.

It’s dark in the room, but he flicks on the light, casting the room in a warm glow. We stumble toward the bed, our hands never breaking contact.

I’m pushed onto the soft mattress and feel the bed dipping beneath me. Jasper’s lips find my throat while his hands roam down to cup my shoulders. “Why the hell are you wearing this sweater?”

“Just wait until you see my hairy legs.”

He laughs into my neck, the warmth of his breath making my body sing.

He whips off my sweater, then my shirt, and gazes down at my lacy demi-cup bra.

I bite my lip, watching him and feeling nervous. I’m not well endowed, and I haven’t had proper sex in years.

“You know you’ve got me hooked, right?” he growls, his fingers lightly tracing the line of my bra. I flush with heat, my breath catching in my throat as he undoes the clasp, letting my bra fall to the side.

His hands explore me, his fingers tracing the curves of my body, sending shivers down my spine. I arch my back, eager for more. “You’re so beautiful. So receptive,” he says, kissing a trail down my neck and across my collarbone. He sucks a nipple into his mouth and cups my breasts, burying his face in the valley as he lavishes them with attention. The scruff from his jawline sends prickles of sensation over me.

This is so good. So fucking good.

My heart races as I feel his hands slide around to cup my ass, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of my thighs.

I want to see him, all of him. I unbutton his shirt and spread it wide, inhaling his smell. His chest is firm and warm, covered in a light dusting of hair that I run my fingers through. I trace the lines of his abdomen, feeling his tension and anticipation.

He groans, his hips thrusting toward me. “We need to be naked. Now.”

A moment of hesitation hits. “Do you have condoms?”

“Hold on,” he says, springing up and rushing to the nightstand. He comes back with an open box and tosses them on the bed. “They’re pink. Is that okay?”

“You’re seriously asking me if I care what color they are?”

He shrugs. “I want it to be good for you. Pink is my favorite color.”

I like him so much. Especially when he says things I don’t expect.

“Pink is perfect.”

I lean up on my elbow and watch him undress. It’s been so long since I’ve seen a man naked that every movement is like a revelation. His shirt is already on the floor. He unzips his jeans and pushes them down, his dick thick and long. I really try to keep my cool at how big he is, but he notices and chuckles. “Like what you see?”

He goes commando. I nod. Apparently mute at the moment.

“You ready to get off, angel?”

I gaze into his sultry eyes and nod as my breath hitches in anticipation. Yes, orgasming can be addictive.

“That’s right. I’m gonna bring you there.” All smirky, he smiles and does a little move like one of his touchdown dances as he kicks his jeans away.

He stalks to me and helps me slide down my jeans. He stands over me, making me squirm as he looks at my white underwear. They’re nothing fancy, but at least they aren’t granny panties. If the hungry look in his eyes is anything to judge by, I won’t have them on long anyway.

He leans down and runs a finger from my cheek, past my breasts, to my hips, all the way to my toes, then comes back to my waist. His hand slides inside my panties. His eyes heat, a fire growing as he dips into my pussy and fingers me.

“Jasper,” I say breathlessly.

He chuckles, using his other hand to gently pull my panties down, baring me entirely to his gaze.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he says, his fingers continuing to explore me. He dips a finger inside me, pumping in a slow, steady rhythm that makes my core clench.

I make a sound in my throat, arching my back to get closer, to get more.

He leans down to kiss me, his tongue darting into my mouth as he continues to finger me. I whimper, my body trembling with need.

He pulls away, his chest rising rapidly as he crawls between my legs, his eyes never leaving mine. He plants kisses along my inner thighs, his tongue tracing the lines of my upper legs.

His warm breath washes over my center, the anticipation building with every passing second. I grip the sheets beneath me, my heart pounding as I watch him.

“Promise you won’t regret this,” he says, his voice husky.

“I want this more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.” I wanted this to happen. I admit it.

Jasper is so much more than the person I thought. He’s a family guy, taking care of his nieces; he’s worried about football, hoping he still has his team family even with a new quarterback; plus he’s dealing with his biological mother.

“What?” he asks. “You just went somewhere else, and I can’t have that.”

The truth is, Jasper and I have more in common than I realized. His mom left him, for whatever reason, and my mom left me too. We share abandonment. And for some reason it makes this moment special.

“I’m a little worried I’m too inexperienced for you,” I murmur as I reach up and kiss him, my teeth dragging against his bottom lip, making him pant.

“Jesus, don’t even think that. You’re awesome, baby. So damn hot,” he says, then dips down to my center, his tongue tasting the most intimate part of me. I gasp, my head thrashing back and forth as he licks and sucks at my clit. The pleasure is intense, and my body writhes as shock waves radiate through my body, building at the base of my spine.

“That’s it, angel,” he murmurs. “Enjoy every lick.”

Just as I’m about to reach the peak of my orgasm, he leans up and kisses me, his tongue sliding into my mouth as if to mimic the pleasure he was giving me elsewhere. The ferocity of his kiss catches me off guard, but I return it eagerly.

“Let me taste your pussy again,” he says in my ear.

My breath hitches as I nod, unable to speak.

He slides down my body, his hungry eyes locked onto my center. I quiver, so ready to be devoured.

He licks me, long and slow at first, savoring as I moan, my pleasure building back up again, my hips bucking against his mouth. Using his hands to hold me open, he thrusts his tongue inside me, deeper and faster now, and I grip the sheets with white-knuckled hands.

He sucks on me, creating a vacuum that sends shocks of pleasure up and down my skin. I’m so close, so fucking close, feeling my orgasm approaching with every second, electricity pulsing through my veins. My muscles tighten, my breathing becomes ragged.

“Please, Jasper, I’m going to . . .”

“That’s it, baby,” he growls, his voice deep.

And then, it happens. The pleasure peaks inside me, so intense that I can barely stand it. My whole body shakes as the orgasm rips through me. My body explodes with pleasure, my muscles tightening and releasing as wave upon wave of bliss washes over me.

I gasp for air as Jasper slowly pulls away. He looks up at me, his eyes full of satisfaction as he smiles softly. “How would you rate that?”

“Shut up,” I pant, gasping for air.

He cups my cheeks, his thumbs brushing softly against the skin below my eye. “Suck me.”

I nearly pass out with the heat that spears through me. I like a man who tells me what to do in bed. I laugh, and he laughs with me when I tell him.

The laughter makes everything exponentially better. As if we’re easy with each other and able to say what we want and need.

He pulls me up to sit on the edge of his bed and stands in front of me. I look at his cock. It’s perfect, long and thick, veins running along the length of it, the head glistening with a drop of precum. I lick my lips and take him in my hand, stroking him slowly, my fingers brushing against the sensitive skin at the top. He groans, his hips bucking slightly.

“Yeah,” he says. “Show me how much you want me.”

I lean forward, my lips parting slightly as I take the head of his cock into my mouth. He tastes salty, the scent surrounding me as I take him deeper, his girth filling my mouth.

I suck him, my tongue swirling around his shaft, my mouth moving up and down, my hand pumping his dick. He groans, his hands tangling in my hair, holding me in place.

I suck on the head, running my tongue around the ridge, savoring the feel of him in my mouth.

“Oh, fuck, Jane,” he calls out, his hands threading through my hair.

His cock thickens as he pushes me off him. “Wait, angel. Wait. I want to be inside you for this.”

He gently lays me down, then reaches for the box of condoms, pulls one out, and slides it on. He crawls between my legs, his blue gaze holding mine. He positions himself at my entrance, the tip of his cock teasing me as he slides into me inch by inch. He stops to press my hands down on the mattress, interlocking his in a strong clasp.

Oh, I like that. The intimacy. He pushes deeper, and I get lost in the way he feels, the way his hips thrust slowly, every inch of him finally hitting home. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

“You feel so good,” he says as he slides out, then back in. He gazes down at me, the intensity of his eyes making me catch my breath. “Never want it to end.”

His pace quickens as he stares down at me, his eyes lingering on my lips.

“Your hands,” he gasps, tugging at my wrists. “Hold on to your legs, Jane.”

I do as he asks, my hands gripping the back of my legs and giving him access to go deeper. He hits a spot inside me that sends pleasure everywhere.

He makes a primal sound, his pace quickening even more. “That’s it, angel.”

The room spins. I feel desperate every time he pulls out of me, just to go back in. He grinds against me, swiveling his hips to touch my clit. He’s panting when he slows down, his lips sucking at my neck. “Doggy style. I want you at my mercy, baby.”

I want to be at his mercy.

He helps me flip over and runs his hands down my back, a growl of appreciation coming from him as I arch my back for him. His fingers play with my pussy, tapping at my clit. “You’re so wet,” he says in my ear, and I nearly combust.

With his hands on my ass, he slides inside me, filling me up with every inch. My arms shake from holding on to the pillows as our bodies collide.

My pussy clenches around him, my walls pulsing with each thrust.

I’m in a haze of lust and need.

He grips my hips tightly, pulling me closer to him. His hips pound against me, every strike of his cock deepening my arousal. The bed creaks beneath us, keeping time to the beat of our bodies.

His hand reaches around my waist to play my clit like a guitar string.

He keeps calling me “angel,” over and over, the timbre of his voice low and needy, and it only ratchets up my need.

My climax builds, tighter and tighter. My breasts bounce wildly with each thrust, and I cry out, the echo bouncing off the walls.

My entire body freezes as my orgasm hits, wave after wave of ecstasy shattering me. My body convulses around his, my pussy clenching his cock in a viselike grip.

His body shudders as he comes right after me.

I collapse onto the bed on my stomach, my body spent, my mind reeling from the intensity of the experience.

He collapses on top of me, his heart pounding against my back. He lifts my hair out of the way and kisses my neck, my shoulder, anywhere he can reach, leaving a trail of heat.

He pulls out of me and flops down next to me and gathers me into his arms.

I feel deliciously languid as I melt into his chest.

The earlier tension between us has vanished, and now all I feel is a wonderful sense of relaxation. “We should probably clean up,” I manage to say several minutes later. I don’t want to move, but I need to get back to Londyn.

“No, we should stay like this,” he says, his voice thick. He leans up on his arm and gazes down at me, satisfaction on his face.

I laugh at his goofy expression. “What are you staring at?”

He kisses me slow and sweet, his tongue dancing against mine in gentle strokes. “You’re so repulsive that I’m ready to go again.”

I laugh, then sober as I look down at his cock. I frown. “Wait. Where did the condom go?”

He gets up and looks around, lifting pillows and checking under the duvet. “It’s missing, but I think I had it on,” he says in a casual tone.

He thinks?

Panic hits me immediately.

“It’s not like it grew legs and walked off, Jasper. It’s not a caterpillar.”

He stops searching and gives me a glance. “Hey. No need to get upset. I had it on when I came. I’m positive.”

I sense uncertainty in his tone.

My heart races.

I mean, really, universe? After five years of celibacy, the one time I throw caution (and clothes) to the wind, the condom disappears?

Getting up, I look under the bed, but it’s not there.

He runs his gaze over me, ending at my crotch. “Is it still inside you?”

Oh. That’s weird.

I move away from the bed and dash to an open door that I assume is his bathroom.

My reflection is wild in the mirror, my face flushed and my hair sticking up in all directions, but who cares about that? Where is the condom? I bend over, feeling around. It’s not in my vagina. My breathing quickens, and I sway on my feet.

What if he came inside me?

“Found it!” Jasper calls from the bedroom, and when I walk out with a towel wrapped around me, he’s holding it like a trophy. “It was at the foot of the bed.”

I must have missed it. I lick my lips, nerves flying in all directions. “Jasper, are you sure you didn’t come inside me?”

He puts on his jeans and zips up, a small frown growing. “I don’t think so.”

My head replays our sex. He did flip me over, and what if it fell off then or got pulled off—

“Jane,” Jasper says as he strides toward me. “Angel. Baby. You’ve got panic all over your face.”

“I’m not even on the pill. It makes me moody, plus I’ve never had to worry about using precautions.” Sure I’ve had a few dates since Tomas, here and there, but nothing that came close to sex.

“Okay. Let’s think about this, just in case it did come off. Is this the time of the month when you ovulate?”

I start.

He shrugs. “I have four older sisters. I know a lot about cycles.”

I shake my head. “I don’t know, I need to think. I’m not a twenty-eight-day-cycle girl. It’s always different. I’ll need to go home and look at my calendar.” My voice shakes. “But you’re not a hundred percent sure, are you, about the condom?”

He runs a hand over his jawline. “I mean, it felt really good. Like maybe it came off? I don’t know.”

Okay.

I’m already scrambling into my clothes, my heart pounding against my rib cage. All I want is to get home and try to recall the last time I had my period. And I can’t think straight here. I reach for my cardigan and drape it awkwardly over my shoulders.

He reaches out, his hand gently rubbing my back. I allow myself a moment to relax into him, hoping to calm the anxiety. The rational part of me knows we were careful, but fate sometimes has other plans.

Jasper looks into my eyes. “How do I make you feel better about it? Should we take extra precautions?”

I gulp. “Like what?”

“Plan B,” he suggests with a gentle seriousness. “Just to be safe.”

I nod, the logic in his words resonating. “Of course. I just didn’t think of that.” Because I haven’t had sex in years. “I can get it.”

“No, I’ll come with you. It’s the least I can do.”

“Now?” I ask, disbelief in my voice. Is he really that worried about a possible pregnancy?

He quickly dresses in shorts and a shirt and sneakers. “Yes, now. Let’s go.”

I grab my tote from the kitchen. Memories of my pregnancy five years ago come flooding back, the fear, the uncertainty, the sense of being utterly overwhelmed.

And how Tomas left me.

Jasper’s hand rests on my lower back as we leave his apartment.

In the lobby, he speaks to the doorman, who quickly hails us a cab. The ride to the pharmacy is a blur. Once there, we navigate the aisles, Jasper leading the way.

He pays for the medication, his actions swift, gripping my hand as we leave the pharmacy. The weight of the small box in my hand feels huge.

“I can walk myself back to my place,” I say, but he refuses to listen.

We walk in silence. My mind is a whirlwind of emotions, the condom thing a shadow over the great sex.

Maybe it was a wake-up call. To stay away from Jasper.

As we approach my building, the familiar sight of home causes a long exhale to come from my chest. Finally, I can decompress. I glance at Jasper, his profile illuminated by the dim streetlights. He seems deep in thought, his usual confident demeanor replaced by a more somber one.

He insists on walking me to my door, a gesture that I can’t refuse even though every part of me wants to get away. As we stand at my doorstep, an awkward silence envelops us.

“Jane, you’ve barely spoken.”

“Sorry. Really. It’s just that’s the first time I’ve been with someone in a long time, and then it got confusing with the missing condom. It makes everything muddled.”

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he murmurs, his voice sincere. “I shouldn’t have made a joke about losing it. It’s a big deal to you. It’s all I could think about on the way over.”

“It’s fine. We took care of it.” My words are brisk.

He shifts his weight, looking down at his feet before meeting my gaze. “I want to see you again.”

“Oh.”

His words send a jolt through me. Part of me yearns to say yes, to dive into whatever this is between us. But the rational part, the part that’s been through heartache, slams on the brakes.

If only the condom hadn’t gone missing.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say, staring down at the brown bag in my hands. It’s the reminder I need. I need to end this conversation before I lose the resolve. “Good night, Jasper.”

Without waiting for his response, I unlock my door and slip inside, closing it softly behind me. My back presses against the door, and I let out a shaky breath. The quiet of my apartment wraps around me like a cocoon.

What am I doing? Jasper is everything I’ve avoided, yet he’s awakened something in me, something I’d buried deep.

I slide down to the floor, my head in my hands. This is madness. I can’t let myself fall for him. He’s a client, for goodness’ sake.

The sound of footsteps pulls me from my reverie. It’s Andrew, home from the bookstore. His concerned eyes find mine as he sees me on the floor.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

I shake my head, trying to play it cool. “It’s nothing, just a long day.”

He glances at the closed door. “Didn’t you go see Jasper for work?”

I nod. “Yes. I’m just tired.”

He frowns as I get up and drink a glass of water, then head to my room.

Alone, I feel like the walls are closing in on me. The weight of my decision presses down, suffocating. I did the right thing by pushing Jasper away. I have to protect my heart, my daughter. I can’t afford to get lost in a romance.

But as I crawl into bed, the emptiness around me pulls me down.

Tears prick my eyes, and I let them fall silently.

Pushing Jasper away is the safe choice, so why do I still feel so lonely?