This was Lizzie.
My woman.
Mine.
She whimpered into my mouth, her hands at my hips. I’d almost gone absolutely insane when I saw her dad brush his hand at her stomach earlier. I hadn’t even noticed, hadn’t seen the slight swell of her lower stomach, but I saw it then.
Holding her with one hand, I did the same as her dad had done, dropped one of my hands and pushed it between us. Her stomach was small, but larger, too. It didn’t take long to feel that gentle curve around the waistband of her sweats and as I did it, she huffed and pulled back, ending our kiss.
But hell.
Maybe before now, the fact we were having a baby had been some out-there idea. But she was changing. Growing. With our child and it was insanely hot as hell.
“Fuck,” I whispered, as she covered my hand with mine.
“It’s just bloating right now. Normal. It’s not…”
“I don’t care. You’re carrying my baby.” And you love me.
She blinked, looked up at me through her lashes and whispered, “Yeah. Crazy, right?”
It was, and at the same time, anything but. It was perfect.
“No. It’s beautiful.” I dropped my forehead to hers, and we stood like that in the hall, her fingers between the gaps in mine at her stomach and I let the peace of that moment wash over us. “You know how I feel about you.”
“I know.”
“I don’t want us to mess it up again but going slow with you is a special kind of hell.”
Her fingers between mine pressed in until she was holding my hand at her stomach. She turned her head, kissed the side of my throat. “We’ll figure it out.”
We would. We absolutely would. I wouldn’t stop fighting for Lizzie. Ever.
“I should go to bed,” she whispered, as if either of us talking any louder would interrupt this peace we’d found. “Early day tomorrow and lots to do.”
“All right.” I kissed her forehead, and slid my hand from hers, instantly losing the soft warmth of her. “Good night, Lizzie.”
“Night, Garrett.”
She stepped away first, yawning as she did and I waited in the hallway, hands curling into fists at my sides and locking my knees so I didn’t dive after her, tear her off her feet and toss her to her bed and ravage her until we didn’t get a single moment of sleep.
But back in my room? That was a whole different story.
My dick was hard, almost bursting through the zipper of my jeans. Usually, I’d fight this, but it’d been months since I held Lizzie in my arms and despite the fact I was a grown man with a decent sense of self-control, that all fled and turned me into an animal when I was covered with her scent, the taste of her lips, and the knowledge my DNA was growing inside her.
I tore off the button of my jeans and undid my zipper. I barely had my jeans and boxers to my knees before I stumbled to the bed and spit into my hand.
At the first swipe of my hand down my hard, pulsing length, I gritted my teeth so I didn’t shout for her to get into the damn room and finish this.
At the second swipe, the pinch at my tip, I closed my eyes and pictured Lizzie. Her full breasts. Her hips. The berry scent of her lips and the way her eyes would gaze with lust as soon as I sunk inside her tight heat.
At the third pull, I shoved back into the bed, and then imagined her stomach swollen, her breasts even larger. I imagined what it’d feel like to see my child grow inside of her and how it’d change us and how we’d handle living together in Vegas. And fuck. It was a fantasy I’d had for years coming true in less than forty-eight hours.
The woman I loved more than life itself, more than hockey, was willing to move to be with me because she loved me.
“Fuck,” I grunted. I tried to keep quiet, tried to not sound like a complete fucking pervert, but like always happened when Lizzie was nearby, all that shit went out the window.
Precum helped the ease of my hand, sliding down my dick while I pictured Lizzie’s dark pink lips wrapping around the tip and taking me deep, gagging, eyes watering, on her knees like she liked it so damn much.
My balls grew tight and I worked faster. The sounds she’d make. How wild would she get once she didn’t feel like throwing up so much?
How I’d take care of her as much as I possibly could to make her know what she was doing was the best damn decision she’d ever make.
Yeah.
I’d give Lizzie everything. A home. Love. Safety and protection. And she? She’d give me the one thing I’d always wanted. A family.
I’d reassure her of all of it more than anything in the world.
I grunted, teeth gritted. It was a wonder I didn’t crack a crown and then I came, groaning out her name beneath my breath so she didn’t think I was being murdered by the sounds I was making.
My seed slid all over my hand and it took seconds, minutes, hell it could have been hours until I felt like I was steady enough to stand and clean myself up. Blood roared through my ears, and my limbs were loose.
If I’d had a game to play, I wouldn’t be able to stand on my skates.
Once I was capable and had cleared all the visions of Lizzie out of my brain, I tore off my shirt and used it to clean myself off. With my jeans pulled up but still undone, I opened the door to use the bathroom in the hall.
“Hey, I was just thinking—” Lizzie stared and then froze.
Her gaze dropped to my chest, the shirt wrapped around my hands and my undone jeans in a split second, and her eyes went wide.
And kill me. Fucking kill me now. I wasn’t sure of the expression on my face, but as Lizzie rolled her lips together, fought between laughing and screaming based on the way her shoulders shook and she covered her mouth, I figured it wasn’t good.
“Did you just—”
No way in hell was I telling her anything. “Go to bed, Lizzie.”
“In my guest room?”
“Fucking hell.” My head fell to the wall, and I banged the back of my head against it. Thump. Thump. Thump. Could anything be more embarrassing? Emasculating?
And she was laughing at me?
I turned, tried to glare at her. “Cut me some slack here.”
She chortled. Yes. A mixture of a cough and a choke echoed in the hall and she swirled her finger in a circle pointed in my direction. “That’s your sex face. You did, didn’t you. You just totally—”
Fuck this. I would not be ashamed that I just beat it like a fifteen-year-old after his first date and got caught. “I did. I just came all over my hand and stomach and I did it thinking of all the things I want and will do to you someday. Is that what you want to hear?”
As I spoke, her humor fled and her jaw dropped. Jesus. Was she surprised I’d think of her when I did that? Especially after that kiss?
Color turned her cheeks pink and I stepped forward. She could try to embarrass me, but I’d win this. I’d win every damn round. “Do you want me to tell you what I was thinking? The sounds you make and how they turn me on, the way I was thinking about dragging my tongue down every single inch of your body until you came so loud your neighbors called the cops. The fact that even though it’s been months, I can still taste you on my tongue?”
She licked her lips. For a second, I thought she might say yes. That she didn’t only want to hear it, but participate.