Another Goal, page 14
“He’s doing a damn poor job of wooing her,” Cormac muttered.
“That’s karma not liking him horn-dogging on my wedding day,” Maxim snapped.
I squeezed Millie’s elbow and pressed another kiss to her hairline before moving to my spot on the opposite side of the altar.
“Really?” Maxim asked, eyes narrowed in a glare.
“Shit’s going down,” Cruz muttered. “And your girl’s gonna want Stolly on it to keep Millie safe. Which is what he’s doing…weirdly and possibly poorly. Now, quit bitching. Here comes your wife.”
“She is the most beautiful creature,” Maxim breathed, completely overcome by Ida Jane. Her timing was perfect, too, because Maxim no longer remembered I existed.
The range of emotion that flitted across his face fascinated me. Longing, gratitude, joy, and love morphed into a sappy expression I’d never believed Maxim could achieve. It was a good look on him, one I hoped continued for all the years of their marriage—and one I wanted captured in a book for us to show Bree and her siblings one day.
Millie
An opossum interfered with my half-assed, partially baked plans.
A rodent made up of fur, teeth, and a ratty tail. Why? Because they loved Houston. Also because fuck my life.
Nothing was easy, yet I refused to admit the universe was trying to tell me something epic. Important. Life-changing.
After the ceremony Blade, Ida Jane’s large guard dog, sat between her and Maxim as teammates gave their speeches. The poor pup panted heavily in the early evening heat. He wasn’t designed for Houston’s mugginess, but I knew he wanted to be there based on his blissed out, hooded eyes and his grin with lolling tongue. He also had a personal mister blowing cool air into his face.
Blade knew he’d soon be back in the coolness of Cormac and Keelie’s place with a bone. He had a cozy bed he shared with Keelie’s cat, Slippers, when he came over. The cat sat at the glass door, tail twitching as she watched her canine friend outside.
I stared at the officiant, trying to ignore the feel of Luka’s stare, which sat heavily on my cheek. The man was the star of the hottest sexual experience in my life—two of them, actually, now that Luka had loved me up so well last night. But wait, reliving them, as I was, at my best friend’s wedding reception was far beyond taboo.
Yet I couldn’t concentrate on the speeches because I kept returning to last night. Goose bumps exploded over my skin in a ripple of awareness and an echo of that pleasure. He’d manipulated me so easily, flipping me this way and that. He’d kissed and licked while he dragged his fingertips in feather-light touches over my heated, sensitized skin, making me quake and moan.
I’d never known I was a moaner. I hadn’t known I was a lot of things until Luka—like my ability to multitask by deep-throating him—new skill—while he feasted on my drenched folds. I’d never known I could orgasm three times in an hour, and that each would be successively deeper, releasing a tension from my very core and leaving me boneless.
But I’d found that out the first night we’d spent together all those months ago.
I shifted so I couldn’t see Luka’s all-too-knowing eyes. He knew I wanted him, and he knew that scared me. I wasn’t sure which was worse, and I didn’t want to think about him, my father, Bree’s future, any of it.
I sighed as I rose.
“Where are you going?” Luka murmured.
“Bathroom.”
He nodded, aware of my near-constant need to pee. I crossed the expansive yard toward the pool deck.
A cheer went up, and I looked back in time to see Ida Jane and Maxim kiss. A hiss at my shoulder startled a yelp from me. I turned to stare into gleaming dark eyes and twitchy whiskers. The opossum must have snuck into the tent for food, and I was blocking its escape route out of the yard.
I reacted without thought, by smacking at the opossum. With my bare hand. It assumed I was attacking it—fair—and growled low, paws clutched tightly around its treat. Was that an empanada?
Blade must have heard the commotion because he was immediately at my side, leaping toward the rodent as it lunged toward me a second time. The Newfoundland used my leg as his launchpad, propelling himself through the air. He nearly caught the now-retreating opossum’s tail. Blade landed in a heap on the pool deck while I flailed, thanks to my shifted center of gravity and my heels.
My calf hit a lounge chair, and I reached out, planning to stabilize myself just as my foot tangled in my gown and I pitched forward.
The collective gasp drowned out my faint yip. I wrapped my arms around my middle as I closed my eyes and scrunched my face, trying to prepare myself for the painful collision with the ground. I twisted as much as possible, hoping to take the brunt of the fall on my buttock, not my hip—as far from Bree as possible.
Which was how I found myself sprawled, spread-eagled and panting, in Luka’s lap, staring out at a tent full of shocked wedding guests.
The rookie wolf-whistled, bringing the rest of the guests back to themselves. Ida Jane rushed over.
“I’m all right,” I said, stopping her before she could bend down and muss her beautiful dress. “I’m all right, Luka.”
“That was the freakiest thing,” Ida Jane said on a gasp. “A possum—oh my—Blade! Maxim, Blade! He’s not getting up.”
Maxim rumbled a response, and Blade wagged his tail. Ida Jane dropped to her knees nearby, and Blade licked her wrist.
“Who’s a brave boy?” she cooed.
“Ask him to stand up, Ida Jane. We can see if we need to call the vet,” Maxim said.
I realized Luka hadn’t moved. He hadn’t breathed. I turned to look at him and realized he was gritting his teeth.
“What—” I managed.
“Landed…on my…”
“Oh!” I tried to shift.
He groaned and held me tightly. I stilled, cheeks flaming with mortification.
“Didn’t realize weddings were a contact sport,” Naese joked. He stood next to me but squatted at Luka’s head, concern etching his brow line.
“Direct shot?” he asked.
Luka managed a brief nod, sweat beading his brow.
“Hell of a save, though. Adam will be jealous.”
“Not…of…my nuts,” Luka ground out.
Naese slapped his shoulder as he chuckled. “We’ll get her up and that’ll ease some of the pressure.”
I gasped. “Did you just call me heavy?”
Naese rose, eyes wide. “N-no. I mean, you’re pregnant. There’s a baby in you. You’re…you’re…beautiful…glowing…”
“A delicate rose who ninja’d the fuck out of that possum. Cool trick,” Cruz said as he joined us. He shot Luka a sympathetic glance. “I’ll lift you on three.”
Cruz picked me up, and Luka curled into a fetal position, panting and cursing with each exhale.
“Trainer will be over in a sec,” Cruz said. “I caught that on video. You were magnificent, diving in under Millie, breaking her fall.”
“G-great,” Luka muttered. “I think I have splinters in my ass.”
“Not possible on the pool deck, but maybe abrasions from the concrete. They’re trophies,” Naese said, trying to keep a straight face.
“Fuck off,” Luka growled.
I tried to dart away as mortification began to burn my super-heated flesh from my body.
“Nope. You need to stay here,” Cruz rumbled, almost as if he knew my plan was to keep running through the house, out the door, and back to my condo in Colombo. He snapped his fingers and the rookie stepped forward, looking slightly awkward but determined.
“Get her some water and a chair,” Cruz barked.
The rookie nodded and hastened off. Cruz kept his bear paw on my arm. I sagged into him, wheezing.
Luka touched my arm. I glanced over, blinking back tears of embarrassment. “You okay?” he asked.
“I should ask you that! Are you?”
Luka grimaced. “I’ll be okay.”
“Dick shots are the worst,” Naese said.
“Shut it,” Cruz muttered.
Naese met my eyes and rolled his lips into his mouth. “Er…are you okay?”
“Yes,” I said through clenched teeth. Better to be angry than to show anxiety or fear. I knew that all too well. I snatched my arm from Cruz. “Thank you,” I said to the bear of a man at my side.
He nodded, but I couldn’t see much of his expression, thanks to his bearded cheeks.
I looked down at Luka, who sat up but still looked pale. He’d pressed his lips together, and the skin around his eyes was taut. His gaze never left mine. I felt a bit like a mouse under the benign eye of a roly-poly cat who was too full to do more than watch its next prey.
How did my brain come up with this drivel?
“Th-thanks, hockey man. Um, I…”
“Let’s get you inside, checked over,” Ida Jane said, coming to my side. Blade was in the house now, his bulk visible at the sliding windows.
Ida Jane was the best of friends. I squeezed her fingers and let her lead me away, trying not to limp as I put pressure on my left leg.
I looked back in time to see Naese slap Luka’s back. “Fucking epic how you dove in.”
Luka’s attention on me never wavered, not even as he took Cruz’s hand and rose to his feet, wincing.
Chapter 12
Luka
Millie limped off with Ida Jane.
“A possum? Dude, who knew they were even out here?” the rookie chortled.
What was his name? Something douchey… Marcus Waters, maybe. I didn’t know—didn’t need to know yet. That was Cormac and Maxim’s problem. I’d waved off the trainer—no way I was dropping my pants to have him poke at my dick, particularly at a social engagement.
Still, my groin throbbed in a not-so-friendly way when I finally made it into the house, and I couldn’t find Millie. Her disappearance made me more anxious than anything else. I knew she’d try to pull some stunt; she was good at ghosting.
I caught her tiptoeing out of a guest room, headed toward the front door.
“And just where do you think you’re going?”
She whirled, once again almost toppling over. Millie had always been so graceful—balanced and aware of her body. Clearly, the added bulk of our baby in front was throwing off her game. I strode across the space, getting my palm under her elbow even as she righted herself.
“I…I…”
I closed my eyes—briefly, because I couldn’t take my eyes off Millie. She glowed and her eyes were luminous, drawing me in, but she was treacherous, too. With that devious mind at work, I never knew what she’d do next, except that I wouldn’t like it.
Her gaze dropped to my crotch, her cheeks blasted with pink, and she averted her gaze.
“You can look,” I said, sidling in closer. “After all, you did more than look before.” I paused. “Just last night.”
Her cheeks turned an even brighter red. Damn, I loved teasing her.
“Luka,” she breathed.
“I like it when you say my name, Millie. I love it more when you scream it.”
“I’m eight months pregnant,” she snapped, breaking the sensual haze I’d been trying to weave around us. “I’m sure you noted the stretch marks. I’m not for you. Not anymore.”
Her words smacked me in the face but also in my chest, burrowing into my heart. “You think I was only with you because of your tight body?”
She looked up at me, furious. But underneath her gritted teeth and anger, I saw the vulnerability. Millie was afraid. Of me.
Correction: of me not wanting her anymore because of the way her body had changed while carrying my child.
Of me dropping her like her father had.
Like the douche Trent did when Millie refused to play their twisted game. Ida Jane’s words came back to me, Maxim’s words: “She’s been hurt.”
Millie’s emotional wounds might well be deeper than mine, and I was going to spend a lot of time teasing them out, like a viciously tight knot.
I stepped closer, using my free arm to cage her in, pulling her near. “I want you to listen to me, and I need you to hear me,” I murmured into her ear. “You know what the most sacred thing is to me?”
Her breath caught as she slowly shook her head. But she kept her eyes on the far wall, the stubborn woman.
“Family. That matters more than anything,” I told her. “I mean anything—money, my job, your job, where we live… Anything. I know it because of how I was raised: without one. Because it’s what I’ve craved my whole life. And Millicent, you and Bree are my family.”
She inhaled sharply, tilting her head back, her eyes flashing up to mine. “Luka.”
“I adore the way you say my name. Like a prayer and a wish all wrapped up together. I can promise you this, sweetheart: I’ll be that for you.”
She stared at me, expression open, longing building in her eyes. Her lips relaxed. She lifted her hand to cup my cheek. I nuzzled into her palm, kissing it. Bree started rolling and pushing against Millie’s stomach, and I dropped to my knees to press my cheek to her belly.
“Hey, Bree. It’s Daddy.”
Millie tried to back away, so I wrapped my arms around her hips.
“I think you’re going to be a gymnast with all that rolling around,” I said. I could feel the faint ridge of Millie’s belly button against my upper lip. My image of Millie from that night at Naese’s party appeared in my mind. Her stomach had been flat and smooth, her belly button a sweet indentation. Now, it popped outward, like a turkey timer.
“More like a martial artist,” Millie said with a wince. I pulled back just as a foot or elbow slammed against the skin.
“Let’s get you to the bathroom,” I said, rising. “Then you and I need to talk.”
Her demeanor changed, becoming colder. “I can’t stay, Luka.”
“Well, you can’t go anywhere tonight except to bed.”
“You don’t understand.” She pressed her hands to her belly protectively.
“Then explain it to me,” I snapped.
She shuddered, and I didn’t think it was because my baby had drop-kicked her organs. Millie’s face contorted with fear. “My father is here,” she whimpered.
“So?” I asked. “You don’t have to see that prick if you don’t want to.”
“It’s not that simple,” she said. “He’s Chasten Philip Jones IV.”
“I know.”
“Then you know he’ll try to take Bree from me,” she said.
Millie
“Over my dead and rotting corpse,” Luka snarled.
“You don’t understand. My father is controlling.”
“That’s a nice way of saying a douche gargoyle shit bag,” Luka snapped. He inhaled and then blew the breath out through his mouth. “Look, I get the guy has money falling out of his pockets, but you’re Bree’s mother. I’m her father. We’re raising our kid.”
“He has the best lawyers—ones I can’t afford, especially after he cut me off from my bank accounts. And he wants to punish me.”
“For what?”
I tucked my arms tighter around myself, glancing around, desperate to break this conversation. Bree rolled, and my belly contorted to the right, bulging before resettling.
“I need the bathroom,” I squeaked as I hurried back down the hall toward the powder room.
After a few minutes I came stumbling out, more unsteady than when I’d gone in.
Luka leaned against the door, all leopard grace as he shifted his bulk and rose to his full height. His eyes were worried. “Tell me, Millie. Why is your father going to punish you?”
“We…we have bigger problems than my dad.” I opened my mouth, shut it, opened it again. “I’m bleeding.”
Luka’s gaze dropped to my stomach, eyes widening with horror. “Bl-bleeding? From Bree?”
I tried to march toward the door, but Luka’s arms banded around me. He slid one under my knees and picked me up with ease. There was something so sexy about a man being able to lift me. I felt safe, and that made me uneasy. I knew better.
Yet in that moment, I couldn’t help but sigh with relief. I was so damn tired of always trying to think three steps ahead of my father, trying to be strong. I was scared for my baby.
I’d been strong when I’d walked out on Trent and when I’d blended up my engagement ring and couriered it back. I’d been strong when my dad pitched his epic tantrum and issued his ultimatum: I get back with Trent or he’d cut me off and cut me out of his life.
I didn’t want to be strong now. I wanted to curl into Luka and let him carry me, carry the burden of my fears. But that wasn’t fair, and I refused to do it for long. Yet I needed a minute to orient to the fact that Luka already considered us a team, that he planned to fight for our daughter, for our family. For me.
I heard Ida Jane and her mother asking about me. Luka responded, worry lacing his tone, which had me pressing my nose even tighter to his shoulder. He smelled good. Of course he did. But he also smelled safe.
I was safe with Luka.
He settled me in the car, and we made our trip to the ER in silence.
The middle-aged woman who greeted us with a friendly handshake and serene smile got me into a room with shocking speed.
“I’m Dr. Lopez. Keelie called me. I’m her obstetrician. She asked if I could examine you tonight. Luckily, I was on call, and I’m more than happy to help that lovely lady out.”
“Keelie’s great,” Luka said, his voice tense. When I couldn’t seem to find my voice, he summarized my health history. Dr. Lopez nodded along.
“Well, let’s get you checked out,” she said. With a lifted eyebrow, she turned to Luka. “And would you like some ice for your testicles?”
He shifted in his chair, his face a flaming red, so I was surprised when he nodded. “Pretty sore,” he muttered, shooting me a look.
“I bet. Quite the heroic move.” Dr. Lopez smiled as she pulled one of those crunch-activated ice packs from a drawer. She handed it to Luka, who laid it on his crotch. “You got yourself a good one,” she told me.
