When Jalen first told me about the New Year’s Eve party he wanted us to go to, I’d planned on buying a new dress for the occasion even though he said there wasn’t any specific dress requirement. The lingerie, however, had been more of an impulse buy while I’d been out, something I’d seen and immediately known Jalen would love.

Sheer black thigh-high stockings connected to black garters. A tiny bra and panties that barely covered anything. The fabric slid like liquid silk against my skin, every movement sensual. My nipples hardened, and I knew that by the end of the night, my panties were going to be soaked.

The dress was simple, a midnight blue that bordered on black. Three-quarter sleeves and a mid-calf hem, a neckline that kept my scar from being visible. It was brushed velvet, and I kept running my hands over it, enjoying it almost as much as my underthings. I’d never been a huge fan of dresses, but this one was surprisingly comfortable.

And it didn’t hurt to have Jalen looking at me with that gob-smacked expression on his face either.

“Are you sure you want to go?” He traced my bottom lip with the tip of a finger. “I think we could find something else to occupy our time.”

“As tempting as the offer is, we need to go for at least an hour.” I kissed his cheek. “Do you think you can wait that long?”

His eyes narrowed, and he caught my chin. “I’ll do my best, but no promises.” He kissed me, brief but hard, then stepped back, the heat in his eyes making me want to reconsider my position.

The party was in full swing when we arrived even though it had technically only begun a half hour ago. Jalen had gone all out with a live band, open bar, and tables packed with all sorts of food. Not that pretentious stuff most rich people ate, but not that cheap shit that companies generally pawned off on their employees.

And I was pretty sure that was a chocolate fountain.

“Are you okay?”

“Hmm?” I looked up at Jalen.

“You have this weird look on your face,” he said, leaning down so I could hear him. “Is everything okay?”

I pointed. “You got a chocolate fountain.”

He shrugged. “I can’t take the credit. My assistant did the planning.”

“Two words,” I said after licking my lips, “big bonus.”

He laughed, the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkling. He’d have laugh lines there when he got older, but I pictured it in my head, him as a middle-aged man. Wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, some silver in his dark hair. He’d be like Harrison Ford, hotter than hell no matter what age.

And, based on the way most of the women were looking at him, I wasn’t the only one who thought that way.

“I feel like dancing,” I said, surprising myself. “Do you feel like dancing?”

“I’m not really much of a dancer,” he said.

I smiled up at him and took both of his hands, walking backward to pull him with me onto the dance floor. “We have reason to celebrate.”

He put his hands on my hips, and I put mine on his shoulders, then I followed him as he took a few steps. We kept some space between us, aware of the eyes on us, but the distance did nothing to dissipate the energy surrounding us. I felt like a huge weight had lifted off my shoulders, and the ease with which Jalen was moving made me think that he felt the same.

A part of me wanted to ask him if he was as relieved as I was that he wasn’t going to be a father, but another part of me wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer. We hadn’t talked about kids. Hell, we hadn’t talked about the future much at all. Everything between us had been so punctuated by the craziness that there’d never seemed a good time for the serious things.

And I hadn’t been ready for the serious things.

Now, I thought I was, but I didn’t know if he was, and I didn’t want to force it. I didn’t want to risk losing him if he didn’t want the same things I wanted. Like kids. I wanted kids. More than one so they’d have each other. But what if he didn’t want kids? What if the reason he looked so relieved was because he never wanted kids at all?

He buried his hands in my hair, the rough touch pulling me out of my own head. His eyes were blazing as he kissed me, his teeth worrying at my bottom lip until everything else faded and all I was aware of was the feel and taste and smell of him.

A wolf whistle cut through the music and the haze, and we broke apart. Before I could step away, he grabbed my hips and pulled me to him. The smile on his face was a new one, and it took me a moment to place it.

Joy.

Real, genuine joy. Also, happiness and love and desire, all without a trace of shadow.

I wanted to see that look on his face more often. All the time.

I pulled his head down, but not for a kiss. I put my lips against his ear and whispered, “Let’s go home. I want to show you what I’m wearing under this dress.”