He does it again and again, and the whimper turns into a moan.
He shifts us again, setting me to the side of him but only long enough to get rid of his sweatpants. I get rid of my jeans and my panties while we’re at it, and I don’t think a single word has been spoken since he walked into this room. Our bodies are doing all the talking for us. There will be plenty of time to catch up later. Plenty of time to argue and fight. Plenty of time to make up and talk.
Right now, though, we both need this.
He urges me over toward him so I’m straddling him. I’m about to reach down and fist his cock when I notice the bruises all over his arms and chest. I run a finger softly along one of them on his biceps, and he winces a bit. No wonder why he wants me on top. The poor guy is hurting, but that’s not going to stop him—or me—from the release we’re both desperate for.
Finally, I reach down, grab his shaft in my fist, and pump up and down a few times. His eyes close as his face twists with pleasure, and then I line him up and lower myself onto his waiting cock.
We both groan at the perfection of his body entering mine. I move over him so he slides almost all the way out before I shove my hips back down so he’s as far in as our bodies physically will let him be.
I cry out as he fills me, and then I move up again before slamming back down. “Oh fuck, Ellie,” he murmurs, and his curse only goads me on to pick up my pace. Up and down, in and out, up and down, in and out. We find a rhythm together as he holds me under my ass, helping direct our speed. One of his fingers inches over to the tight bud in back, and I stiffen as he presses into a place that I’d still categorize as virgin territory.
I’m already filled in front, and this new and foreign sensation seems to fill me even more. The heat between us mixes with this prohibited, illicit feeling, and it’s mere seconds before my body convulses into a climax.
I scream out as pleasure rips through me, and his finger continues to push into the forbidden area as I come and come. The contractions of my body send him into his own release. He growls as his hips jerk up to meet mine, and then he grunts a string of curses that are absolute music to my ears as I listen to him ride the wave of bliss.
It’s over far too soon.
I know we’ll do that again. I know there’s more in store for us. But every time we’re in the midst of our passion, I want it to last forever. Despite how good it feels to come, I can’t help but feel a little sad when it’s over and we’re forced to break our sweet connection.
We do, though. I shift up so he slides out of me, and I lie beside him for a few quiet minutes, both of us panting as we try to regain our breath.
“Well that was fun,” he says after a few quiet beats pass between us.
I giggle and turn on my side to face him, and I find him already on his side facing me. I run a fingertip over his eyebrow. “I missed you,” I say.
His lips tip up. “I missed you, too. No more letting her come between us, okay? And for the love of all things holy, don’t fucking hang up on me.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, heat creeping into my cheeks. He’s right. It was childish.
“It’s okay. I love you, Ellie.”
“I love you, too.”
I just hope that love is enough for us to overcome all the obstacles that lie ahead of us.
CHAPTER 20
“Seriously, be a little louder next time,” Michelle mutters sarcastically as we walk into the kitchen hand-in-hand after our nice little welcome home romp.
“You’re the one who wanted to move in with the newlyweds,” I shoot back.
Luke gives me a look of warning, and if we were on the phone, I’d be tempted to hang up on him.
“But we’ll try to keep it down,” I amend, and Luke gives me a look of gratitude for attempting to keep the peace. This can’t be easy on him. She’s already ruining the sugar bowl again, and just when he thought he was rid of her, she’s back.
Letting her move in was a stupid, stupid mistake, but it takes exactly one more little bitch fest between the two of us for me to realize how very, very stuck we are.
“Stop putting your wet coffee spoon in the sugar bowl,” I snarl at Michelle after dinner.
She looks at me in surprise. “I had no idea it bothered you so much. You don’t even use the sugar.”
“Because it’s all hard and crusty from your wet spoon.” You fucking slob. I don’t say that last part aloud, obviously.
“Ladies,” Luke booms. We both look at him in surprise where he still sits at the kitchen table. Even Pepper pauses in chewing on her dog bone to glance up at him. “Just stop. Don’t pick fights with each other. I just need some peace and quiet at home, and if I can’t get it here, I’ll go stay with Josh during training camp. Is that what you want?”
“No,” Michelle says at the same time I say, “I’m sorry.”
“Just knock it off,” he says, and he stalks out of the room.
“This is your fault,” she says to me as soon as he’s gone.
I sigh. “How, exactly, is it my fault?”
“Just shut up about the goddamn coffee spoon.” She glares at me like I’m an idiot. “Luke doesn’t care about shit like that.”
“God, Michelle. You don’t know one damn thing about him.”
Her brows dip like she doesn’t quite get it, and I realize then it’s because she doesn’t get it. The first night we met, he confessed the coffee spoon in the sugar bowl thing. Before we knew a damn thing about each other, that was the first thing he said. He was joking that it was the reason they broke up, but clearly it was those little things that got to him first, and it was the big things that caused the eventual split.
And now he’s literally stuck with her for the rest of his life because they share a child.
The only way out of this is finding out it’s not his baby...but the odds aren’t looking good on that front.
I stalk out of the room and head upstairs. “Can we talk?” I ask when I find Luke collapsed on the chair in our bedroom as he looks out over the backyard.
“Sure,” he says. He makes no attempt to move.
“I’m sorry I let her move in.”
He sighs. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I should’ve been clear with her from the start of that conversation.”
“Why weren’t you?” I ask gently.
“I had a lot on my mind. Camp isn’t just about practice and game strategy. It’s about fighting like hell for your position. I hate competing against Josh, but it felt like it was the two of us against each other, against the second-string guys, against the new guys.”
“Who won the battle?” I ask, genuinely curious about the answer.
He shakes his head. “Nobody yet. We still have nearly two full weeks of camp here at home before we really have a clear answer. Last year Josh and I were the top two. But this kid right out of college is fast as fuck and he’s posing a real threat.”
“I get it. It’s a lot to worry about, and you don’t need Michelle and me fighting here when you need to focus on the game.”
“No, I don’t,” he says. “You’re right. But you’re both here, and we have to learn to live with that. As much as she drives me up the fucking wall, as much as I don’t want her here and don’t want to live with her, the reality is that she’s carrying my child. It’s too early for her to be here, but I’d sort of thought I’d ask her to move in when the baby gets here anyway. So I guess we’re just a few months ahead of schedule.”