I woke stiff and exhausted and...sticky.

Very sticky.

Everywhere. My thighs. My slit. The sheets.

Jack wasn't in the bed-thank G.o.d. I slipped from the blankets, stood on wobbly legs, and surveyed the mess. At least I could a.s.sess the damage without him watching and flashing that knowing smile.

Not like I hadn't earned it last night. That gorgeous, c.o.c.ky smirk overwhelmed me when I was under him, conquered me when I rode him, and dominated me even as I crushed my body against his to harden his c.o.c.k once more. I'd wanted him to take me again and again.

I got my way.

Three times. Maybe four?

I couldn't even remember. The night was a blur of pleasure, energy, and undeniable, unquenchable need. I had never, ever experienced anything so erotic or insane or unbelievably s.e.xy.

Now the sun rose. I was supposed to return to my normal state of respectability and repression.

But how could I handle the man who turned me from responsible, controlled Leah into a crazed s.e.x kitten? I remembered my demands. Bare c.o.c.ks. Coming inside. o.r.g.a.s.ms.

Babies.

Oh, G.o.d. I was a mess. My core still heated. It was sticky too.

I had unprotected s.e.x. A lot of it.

But I didn't have any regrets. That was the strange part, especially since I was usually suffering in shame after my nights with Wyatt. Even after dating for so long, we only ever had s.e.x under the covers, carefully and slowly and always with a condom. The last thing either of us wanted was a mistake that would ruin our judiciously crafted lives.

Well, that life-plan ruined before it began. Now I'd have a baby at twenty-four with the star, playboy quarterback of the Ironfield Rivets. It was as good a plan as any, especially since it meant s.e.x with a man who dominated my body with the same ease he ruled the football field.

I checked my phone. Eight o'clock. At least it was a Sat.u.r.day or I'd have one h.e.l.l of a time explaining my tardiness to Jolene. No, sorry, I was getting my brains f.u.c.ked out by Jack Carson last night. Nope, we weren't careful at all! I took so much of his seed inside me, I'm still dripping this morning...

Christ, that thought shouldn't have gotten me hot. But it did. Horribly. Shamefully.

I let my fingers glide over the slickness between my legs-some of it mine, most of it Jack's. My c.l.i.t throbbed under my touch, and every little b.u.mp nearly drove the air from my lungs.

I was still sensitive. Still wanting.

This was trouble waiting to happen, and I'd have to leave the safety of the bedroom to confront the trouble-maker himself.

I rinsed off in his expensive, beautiful shower with more soaps and oils, dials and temperature settings than a man like Jack Carson ever needed. The spa tub looked comfortable though. A good soaking tub was a quarterback's best friend on Monday mornings. Also, a bottle of aspirin. And, of course, I remembered Jack telling me he often added a blow-job to his recommended prescriptions.

It shouldn't have tingled me to think that maybe I'd be the one giving him that small comfort after a hard game.

I had nothing to wear, so I stole one of his shirts, the first thing my fingers brushed from the drawer. Of course it was a jersey. Wearing it would only boost his ego, but after last night? Maybe he deserved that swagger.

The jersey was long enough to cover my behind. The black and crimson stripes looked better on him, but at least it'd shield most of my nudity from the man.

Not like I wasn't seared into his memory by now.

He'd be forever in my mind.

I tip-toed into the kitchen. He flipped pancakes and crisped bacon, bare-chested. It was as good an image as last night's tensing muscles and dark tattoos cradling my body. I slipped onto a stool at the kitchen island, marveling at the brand new stove top, counters, and appliances that lined a professional grade kitchen.

Jack was planning to say something smart. He glanced once over the jersey and his grin turned wicked.

"Holy f.u.c.k, Kiss, you have no idea how bad I wanna f.u.c.k you while you wear that."

I tugged at the material, feigning disinterest with the name of his league rival. "I was looking for a Tim Morgan jersey, but I figured yours would do."

Teasing him didn't have the intended consequence. His c.o.c.k hardened, tenting his boxers. The spatula cast onto the counter, and he leapt at me, forcing me into a kiss.

Everything inside of me melted, but I wasn't ready to lose myself into that reckless, consuming pa.s.sion again.

We probably needed to talk.

I thought so.

Maybe?

What was left to talk about? We agreed to make a baby. We had s.e.x. Now the bacon was burning.

I slipped from his arms to take his post in front of the stove, my bare feet chilled on the cold tile. It was the only part of me cold. Everywhere else burned like I struck myself with the grease.

I flipped the pancakes as Jack's hands wove over my hips. The heat turned to an inferno, and I whimpered as his lips brushed against my neck. He had bitten there last night. Now his mouth grazed over the sensitive little bruises and nips. Apologizing. Re-energizing. Seducing me all over again.

I had no idea what to say to him, or how to even begin when my words dissolved into a sensual purr. I whispered his name. His grip tightened on me.

"Did you have fun last night?" His whisper ached my core.

His thick arms circled me, holding me, pinning me against the solid strength of his flexing, bare chest. It was almost too much. My mouth dried. I nodded instead.

"Do you regret it?"

I licked my lips, wishing he'd kiss me instead of making me talk.

"Absolutely not," I said.

I heard Jack's grin through his words, m.u.f.fled in the sensitive hollow of my throat. "Did I hurt you?"

"Hurt me?"

"I took you harder than I planned." He switched off the stove and lifted me up, setting me on the counter if only so he could move between my legs again. His blue-eyes flashed, mischievous, the gaze of a rogue looking to steal what he had already taken. "You turned me into an animal, Kiss. Couldn't contain myself."

"I survived."

"Wish I had. Can't stop thinking about you. If you knew how hard I was..."

I knew very well how hard he was. I felt it pressing against me. I arched an eyebrow.

"You still want more?" I asked. "Even after all of last night?"

"f.u.c.k yeah, I do." Jack's fingers grazed my bare leg, tickling up to the hem of the jersey. "Tell me that wasn't the best s.e.x of your life."

"Aren't you a little smug?"

"I deserve to be. I rocked your world."

I rolled my eyes. "Good Lord, Jack. You think everyone's world revolves around you."

"Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me you aren't still weak in the knees and wetter than h.e.l.l because of me."

He knew the answer to that. I looked down, but my gaze fell only to the definition of his broad chest. The man was pure muscle, absolutely rock hard in every place his body had laid over mine.

"You're not wrong." I wasn't afraid to be honest with him. "I've never had a night like that. Never had anything like that before."

Jack frowned. "Not even with your ex?"

"Especially not with Wyatt."

"What about before him?"

Tricky, dangerous territory. "There...wasn't anyone before him."

Jack took a step back. "You only had s.e.x with one guy before me?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

I didn't think he'd understand. "Because I had a plan. Wyatt and I dated in college, we were getting married. I plotted out the kids and the jobs and everything. It was going to work. I prepared for a perfect life, everything I ever wanted."

Jack's expression darkened. "Then he cheated on you."

My stomach flipped. I still wasn't over that pain, even after a year. "Yeah. He...wanted a bit of freedom. He didn't like the plan anymore, and, instead of telling me, he decided to sleep with my best friend. They...they got married after she realized she was pregnant."

"Sorry, Kiss."

"It's fine. I thought I could just...power through it. I'd take what I wanted anyway. I haven't really trusted anyone since then."

He nodded. "Makes it hard to get married and have all those kids, doesn't it?"

I shifted, my fingers clenching the counter. "I had a plan for that too."

"Doesn't surprise me."

"I was...getting information on sperm donors."

Jack laughed. "Are you serious?"

"It probably sounds crazy, but I've always known what I wanted from life. I ...figured I could do it without the marriage and husband."

"Then I won't feel so guilty for wanting to impregnate you." Jack meant it as a joke, but I heard the desire in his words. "This arrangement worked out good for you."

"That remains to be seen."

Jack glanced over the jersey, my soft legs. I swear he saw right through the material to my bare flesh beneath. "I'll take care of everything with this baby, Kiss."

"I doubt that, but thanks."

"I'm serious. I can handle the midnight feedings. Diaper runs. All that stuff."

"Do you know the first thing about babies?"

"Not at all, but I can learn."

I reached for a strip of bacon, nibbling on the end. Jack stared at my lips.

"Do you like kids?" I asked.

"h.e.l.l yeah." Jack tucked three strips of bacon into a folded pancake and dipped the improvised breakfast taco into syrup. He took a big bite and looked surprised when I gave him a skeptical smirk. "Of course I like kids. They're great. They like fun. They don't have any expectations or responsibilities. They like to have a good time. So do I."

"I figured as much."

Jack swallowed, his smile fading. "My kid will have all the fun there is in life. All of it. The amus.e.m.e.nt parks and toys and vacations and everything. They'll have it all, because not every kid gets a chance to do something as simple as throw a ball with their dad."

I lowered the bacon. Jack's eyes weren't on me anymore. He focused only on a memory I don't think he shared with anyone. It all started to make sense.

He gave money directly to McGrin Regional Hospital. The pediatric ward.

He didn't want anyone to know about the donation.

There was a reason for it.

"Jack..." I drew his attention to me. "Why were you at McGrin Regional?"

He pushed from the counter. My body chilled without him between my legs. It only flickered, but already I missed his smile.

"My little brother died when he was nine," Jack said.

Oh. My breath escaped in a mournful gasp. "I'm so sorry."

"Leukemia. I was seventeen when it happened."

My heart shattered for him. Jack tossed the rest of his breakfast away. His hand trembled, and he curled it into a fist. He glanced at me, jaw tight.

"He was one h.e.l.l of an athlete. Or would have been."

"Is everyone in your family athletic?"