He stared at her, then rubbed his face. The lost look on his face almost did her in, but she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin.

“Sit down,” she said, pointing to the arm chair. “And talk.”

“Uh…”

“Oh, god, Jase. I saw the newspaper article. You were arrested! You barely played half of the game Monday night and then you got in a fight and took a stupid penalty and cost your team the game.”

He winced.

She was just getting started. “So you didn’t call me. Fine. We don’t owe each other anything. Really. All I wanted to know was that you were okay. Then you call and don’t say a word about what happened. Then I see that in the paper and watch you blow the game—I was worried about you!”

She pushed her bangs off her forehead and blew out a long breath. That had actually felt pretty good. Except she was still worried sick about him.

Jason sat in the chair, not saying a word, hands on the armrests.

“What’s this all about? Tell me. Did you freak out after you asked me to move in with you?”

He stared at her.

“‘Cause if you did, that’s just crazy. We didn’t even talk about it. I don’t know if I even want to move in with you. It was no reason to go nuts.”

“That’s not it,” he said in a low voice.

His shoulders slumped and again she went all soft and warm inside, wanting to throw herself into his lap and hug him and make him feel better.

“Then what is it?”

“You were worried about me?”

“Of course I was!”

She stood there shaking her head.

His lips pressed together he nodded and sat forward, head bowed. Then he lifted his head. “I never thought you’d be worried about me.”

She sank down onto the couch, legs feeling woolly soft. “I love you, Jase. Of course I’d be worried about you.”

“Oh, god.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “Sorry, Remi. I should’ve called you, but I didn’t. I’m sorry you read about that in the paper. I was an idiot. But it’s done.”

She shook her head, not convinced this wasn’t some major crisis.

“That’s it,” she said slowly. “Were you celebrating that night? At Sage?”

“Celebrating?” His laugh cracked. “Hell. Yeah. Sure. Celebrating.”

All she could do was sit there and look at him.

“C’mere, Remi. Please.” He held out a hand and despite her practical, sane, sensible nature, she rose off the couch and went over to him. He tugged her down onto his lap and she snuggled in against him, so big and warm and strong. His hands tightened on her body and he buried his face against her hair. She felt his chest rise and fall with his breathing, faster than usual, felt his heart thudding beneath her palm.

“I need you,” he whispered. “So much.”

She nodded against him, then lifted her head. She didn’t realize she was crying until his mouth touched hers and they both felt the wetness. He groaned and used his fingertips to wipe away her tears as they kissed.

“Don’t cry, Remi. Please don’t cry. I’m not worth it.”

How could he say that? More tears squeezed out of her eyes, despite the kisses he laid on her mouth, his hands holding her face.

The kisses grew hotter, their need for each other accelerated. Their hands roamed over each other’s bodies, sliding beneath clothes to find skin, his finding her breasts, hers gliding over the satiny muscles of his back.

He shoved up her skirt and cursed at the black tights she wore beneath it, but he hooked his fingers into the waistband and dragged them along with her panties off over her hips and legs, leaving her bare to him. He unzipped and pulled out his erection, long and hard and then he groaned. “Fuck,” he muttered. “Need a condom…”

“It’s okay,” she whispered. With crazy wild thinking, she didn’t want him to use a condom. She wasn’t going to get pregnant, being on the Pill, but if she did…it’d be okay. She trusted him. She wanted his baby.

But he lifted his hips off the couch and shoved a hand into his pocket. He quickly sheathed up and then, still dressed, he pushed inside her and she loved it.

He buried his face against her hair as his big body jerked and heaved over her, filling her, stretching her. She tightened her thighs on his hips, squeezing him inside her, every thrust pushing the air out of her lungs and leaving her breathless. She gripped his shoulders and hung on tight, he rode her so hard, just how she liked it, hard and fierce and fervent.

She cried out, holding on tighter, lifting into each push of his body, her clit bumping against his pubic bone, each drive pushing her higher and a long, low noise escaped her as she came, holding herself against him. He groaned too and she felt him come inside her.

She wrapped her arms around his big body and they held each other for long moments, their labored breathing the only sound in the room.

“Now are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

She loved being held by Jason in bed after sex, his arms around her, sinking into his voluptuous body heat, her legs twined with his, her cheek on his chest. But they weren’t in bed and their clothes separated them in a way that was more than just fabric.

“Yeah,” he said in a gravelly voice. “I do have something to tell you.”

“Okay.”

He paused and she waited, playing with his chest hair.

“You remember Brianne?”

Her stomach clenched and her fingers stilled. “Your old girlfriend Brianne?”

“Yes.”

She waited again.

“She’s pregnant.”

Jason’s heart thudded steadily beneath her cheek. Her heart, on the other hand, had stopped. Her body felt hot and tight. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. Her thoughts blurred and the room shifted around her, closed in on her, then faded out.

She wanted to say, so what? Who cares about her anymore? What’s the big deal?

But she knew what the big deal was. Jason wouldn’t be telling her this if it didn’t matter hugely to him. And it could only matter to him for two reasons—either he was still in love with Brianne and this fact devastated him or…he was the father.

And she knew which one of those it was.

She knew.

Her heart probably started beating again, she didn’t know, but it hurt. It hurt so bad she almost cried out with the agony of it.

She rolled away from Jason and sat up on the edge of the couch, her back to him. Her eyes burned, but no tears came. Her stomach tightened so much she felt nausea rolling over her. She still fought for oxygen, the room shifting around her as if she was on a slow moving merry-go-round.

“It happened just before we broke up,” Jason continued in that low, barely audible voice. “Before I met you. I haven’t been with her since, Remi. It’s not like that.”

She gave a jerky nod, but although that did take care of the foremost question in her head, that assurance did not make her anguish any better. Not at all.

She stood, but her knees were like butter and her vision went dark and she had to sit back down quickly. She sucked a breath into constricted lungs.

Then questions flooded her brain, clogging up and confusing her. She couldn’t get words out. “What…” She swallowed, tried again. “How did you…”

“Remi, come here. Please.” He tugged on her arm, trying to pull her back to him, but she twisted out of his grasp. Fury blazed inside her suddenly, fury at him for doing this to her.

“Get out,” she snapped at him. “Get out of my house.”

“Remi, we have to talk.”

“I can’t. Not right now.” She couldn’t look at him. She pressed a hand to her eyes. “I just can’t.”

He was still and silent. Then he stood. She still couldn’t look at him. She heard him putting himself back into his pants, the rasp of the zipper. The crushing pressure in her chest had her gasping.

“Remi, I don’t want to leave you like this.”

“Just go! Leave me alone! I can’t talk about this right now.”