“Um…” He squeezes his eyes shut tighter and then opens them to glance at Shelby, and then at Viv. “Shelby, could you please take Viv back, for a sec? I was hoping to talk to Jem for a bit. In private.”
Shelby graciously does as he asked, turning so she can make anooh, the sexy dress workedkind of face at me with kissy-lips and wiggling eyebrows, where he can’t see her.
“Could we step outside, Jem?” he asks, regaining my attention.
I nod, follow him out onto the front steps, and close the door behind us.
“You look beautiful.” He takes a long, indulgent look, and then swallows visibly.
“Is that what you wanted to tell me?” I ask with a smile.
He shakes his head, and his nervous energy comes back threefold. It’s worse than the time he told me he let Maggie breastfeed Viv.
“I… Oh, this is hard,” he says, wiping his brow.
My stomach drops. “Are you getting married?” I ask, my mind rushing to connect his behavior with his actions.
He frowns. “What?No. Why would you think that? I’m not even seeing anyone.”
“You’re not?” I ask, confused.
He groans softly and pulls at his hair. “I’m just going to say it,” he says, restless on his feet.
My stomach begins to knot with nerves, but not the good kind. “Say what?” I whisper.
“Ben and Maggie got married, and I told you we were all helping them get pregnant, because they can’t afford IVF. Right?”
My frown deepens. “Uh huh.”
“The thing is, it wasn’t working when Ben used our samples to inseminate her artificially, so we all…” Gunnar closes his eyes and looks as if he’s bracing for impact. “I fucked her. We all did. At the same time. Well, one after the other, but—” He shakes his head and balls his fists like he wants to punch himself, and I’m almost disappointed when he doesn’t.
“I feel awful about it,” he declares, meeting my eyes with visible levels of shame and remorse. “Not about helping my friends,” he clarifies, “but because the whole time I was helpingthem and doing this thing, I was pretending it was you. I was imagining it was you I was breeding, and I wanted it so badly to be true. But it wasn’t you, and I feel so fucking guilty.”
I stare at him, too stunned to move or speak.
“I’m not doing it again,” he states firmly. “I want you to know that. They can have my seed, but I can’t do that again. I can’t keep burying my emotions and denying what I feel for you anymore, Jem. It’s making me fucking crazy, and I can’t get through the day without my need for you making every fucking moment torturous because I can’t be with you.”
Huh?Am I meant to be angry, shocked, or wooed right now? He’s saying shit I hate at the same time as things I want to hear, and my insides are going haywire.
“I want you, Little Miss,” he says, his voice dropping deeper. “I know you know that, and I know you don’t want it. I know you’re enjoying your freedoms and going out, fucking other guys, and that’s fine. I get it. You’re young, and I was your first, and you didn’t intend for me to be hanging around like I do. You wanted no strings. But I want the fucking strings, Jem. I want you and Viv and a family. I want to fucking marry you, and take care of you, and support you, and fuck your smart little brains out every fucking night. I love you. And I’m sick of pretending I don’t.”
He loves me? It’s what I wanted to hear, but why am I hearing it like this? Mixed with a bunch of shit I really don’t want to fucking know.
My vision blurs. How fast can my heart beat before I pass out? Why can’t I breathe?
“Ilikethat you’re younger than me,” Gunnar continues, bombarding me with a confession that makes me whimper and squeeze my thighs together, to smother the inappropriate ache. My body adores that aspect of our relationship too, but I don’t want to admit that right now.
“I know I shouldn’t be so turned on by such a massive age gap,” he says with a shrug as he pales. “That it makes me a sick fuck, who preys on your innocent fucking soul, but I like your sweet face and savvy, modern sense of the world. I like that I can’t stop thinking about you — that I haven’t stopped thinking about you from the night we met.”
My mind can’t make sense of his words. It’s chaos inside my head, and I feel like I’m frozen in the center, too stunned to react. What is he saying?
“It’s been more than a year since our night together, and I haven’t fucked a single woman since then, Jem — besides Maggie, this weekend. And that was nothing to do with wanting to be with her. She’s Ben’s. And I’m not interested. I only want for you — would have you be mine, if only you wanted it too. And I know you probably want me even less now than you did before, and that you’re dating other people...God, that fucking kills me. But you said it was what you needed, so I support you when you go out looking all fucking sexy in your jeans and sneakers and those tiny, cute fucking T-shirts that make me want to—”
He looks me over again and moans. “This outfit is a whole different thing, and after what happened when you wore this dress around me, I’m scared of where you’re going tonight, and what you’ll do in it, but that’s not why I’m telling you this. I’m not trying to stop you from living your life and having fun. I don’t ever want that. I want to be part of it, and I’ll respect your boundaries and follow your lead. I just want you to know that I think you’re a wonderful mother and the sexiest little smart-mouthed fuck I’ve ever met, and that making a family with you would be so fucking nice. I’d be your guy and take care of everyone. When you’re ready for more kids, I want you to ask me if I’ll make them with you, Jem. I just…”
My jaw drops and he winces.
He nods his head slowly. Sadly. “You don’t want that. You’re young, and your career is going to be so fucking big, and women get so much pressure to do it all. I want to help you do it all, and you keep telling me you don’t need me, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting you to.