Page 6 of Irreversible

I denied the proposal, even though it carried with it a startling price tag. Then I denied the counteroffer to donate my eggs.

Jasper wasn’t on board.

And as much as the idea of helping a couple bring new life into the world to complete their family tugs at my heartstrings, I know, deep down, I’m not a good fit. My life is just taking off, gaining traction, the future clear and bright. There are plenty of other women out there, better candidates. Maybe someday I can reevaluate, but for now, the timing isn’t right.

“Anyway,” I continue, reaching up to straighten his tie. “I want a baby, too. You know I do. In a couple of years, maybe.”

At thirty-four years old—and ten years my senior—I know Jasper wants to start a family. I also know his white-picket-fence dreams are temporarily on hold because he married his most promising rising star.

Swallowing, he bends down to graze his nose with mine. “As much as the thought of getting you pregnant turns me on, Ican be patient.” His grin is playful and provocative. “Abner is a legend in the making, and he has his eyes on you.”

“I know, and I’d hate to throw a wrench into an opportunity like this.”

I swear he winces, and I cringe at the crass analogy.

A wrench.

I just compared our future child to a mechanic’s tool.

“God, I didn’t mean it like that.” Shaking my head, I fluster through my words, giving Jasper’s arms a loving squeeze. “I just want the timing to be right. Perfect. Please don’t think I?—”

He shushes me with a kiss. “Shh, I understand, baby,” he tells me, his tone mimicking his words. “I get it. And you’re right, I shouldn’t be talking about babies five seconds after you break that kind of news to me. I’m just…”

“Excited,” I provide, smiling softly. “I know.”

Jasper drags his thumb over my bottom lip until he’s dusting my jaw, his eyes alight with glimmering sentiment. Then he whispers, “I was going to say hopelessly and stupidly bewitched.”

We stumble through the front door an hour later, lips locked, hands roaming, hearts pumping wildly with anticipation. Jasper kicks the door shut with the heel of his shoe, only pulling away to rip off his suit jacket. Our mouths collide, groans permeating the quiet house, and I toss my stilettos off, one by one.

I suck his tongue into my mouth before inching back, breathless. “More.”

He slams his mouth to mine.

Then I bite his bottom lip, roughly tugging it between my teeth.

Jasper pulls away, wincing. “Ow.”

“I… I’m sorry.” My body churns with a frenzied need for rough kisses, mean touches, and violently delicious sex. But guilt gnaws at my bones when I see a dollop of blood pooling on the inside of his lower lip. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine.” Forcing a smile, Jasper swipes at his mouth, smearing the crimson pearl. “I like it when you get carried away.”

“You do?”

“Mmhmm.”

My excitement falters. His words don’t ring true. I think I scare him sometimes when I bite and scratch and claw, like a feral spark awaiting a matchstick. Jasper always tames me, dousing our fire with sweet, honest lovemaking.

It’s still satisfying.

He gets me off, takes his time, cherishes every inch of me.

But sometimes I crave more. There’s an inherent desire inside me, yearning to carry it to the next level.

And that’s when I scare myself.

A stab of embarrassment has me backing away before Jasper reaches out and curls his hand around my wrist.

“I’m not done with you yet.” A Cheshire grin lifts on his mouth as he yanks me closer, cupping my face with both palms, and pressing his lips to mine for a tender kiss.

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