Another Goal, page 8
Fuck me. Everything I’d ever wanted was in this room. I just had to convince Millie to stay with me when we returned to Houston. How, I wasn’t sure. Mainly because I didn’t know why she wanted to stay away.
Millie stared up at me, her eyes more gray than green as she rolled over scenarios in her head. She began to mumble. I leaned in closer, hearing “methane is C-H-four.”
I bit my lip. Millie was building molecular compounds to calm down. I recited player stats. “Bree’s going to be an athletic chemistry nerd,” I said with a smile. “Man, I can’t wait to hold her.”
“You—you heard me?”
I shrugged. “Yeah. Luckily, it was one of the compounds I remember from this global-warming podcast I listened to.”
Her eyebrows rose. “You listen to science podcasts?”
“Love them. Always feel smarter afterward.” I shifted. “Erm…okay?”
Her face softened into a smile. “Definitely okay. I love them, too. I’ll be back around five thirty or six. But I have to warn you, I get tired, and evenings aren’t my thing.”
“Nothing new about that.” I tapped her nose. “I remember you all owly eyed at dinner the other night.”
He’d called just as I was about to eat. Not wanting to ignore him, I’d answered. Luka had settled at his kitchen bar and eaten a snack with me. It had been homey…nice.
“Can the doorman downstairs help me out if I want to see the sights?” he asked.
“Of course. There’s a car service, and he can point you toward the local market or The Londoner, which has British food.” She shrugged. “It’s good but not Houston-restaurant level.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’ve been eating a lot of curries and—what was it called? Lam…lamp…”
“Lamprais,” Millie said. She smiled. “I do enjoy the cuisine, but there are days I need an American fix.”
I tucked that tidbit away. “Well, I’ll grab some curry for lunch. Anything you want?”
She shook her head, her expression wary. Millie didn’t expect me to be here when she returned from work this evening. I saw it in her eyes. I wished she’d tell me why her ability to trust was shattered, but she wasn’t ready. I would not win her over in a night or two. I just hoped I had the stamina to wear her down.
“I’m sorry I can’t stay…”
No, she wasn’t. But eventually she’d see that I wasn’t going to hurt her. Not now, not ever. I had a strong suspicion that knowledge would help Millie lower her walls and finally take us seriously.
I needed this plan of mine to work, and I needed to make at least some progress soon. I only had a few months off.
Chapter 6
Millie
I exited my condo building onto the street, the blare of horns and exhaust from old cars causing me to choke. I ignored my shaking hands as I began my trek down the street. Luka is here, in my home. He’d flown to Sri Lanka to see me. Again.
He’d spent two days on planes and in airports so he could spend five minutes with his cheek pressed to my bump.
I tried to ignore how warm my chest—and other anatomy—had become when Bree responded to him. The way his eyes lit up as told me the trip had been worth it for that alone.
“Who does that?” I whispered.
My hunky, crazy baby daddy, that’s who. Engulfed by the heat, I crossed the busy street with its rushing cars and tinkling bike bells. The walk to my office was long enough that I would break into a sweat, but I needed the time to clear my head.
All these months after departing, I still missed the Houston summer. Houston was home; it was where Ida Jane was digging in roots. It’s where my mother was buried, where Luka lived…
I gnawed on my lip, trying to process what his actions told me, what I wanted to believe they said.
I wanted him here because he missed me. Because he cared about me.
Because he wants a future with me.
I admitted my truth, and it left me lightheaded, my legs shaking as if I’d just completed an hour of jiu jitsu. I couldn’t do much sparring now, but I’d tried to keep up with the drills so my technique and muscle memory stayed sharp.
I sucked in a breath, struggling to shove down the butterflies in my belly at the mere thought of Luka Stol. He was even more of a presence in person. I’d forgotten the sexy punch he packed. I placed my hand on a wall and breathed for a moment.
Stop it. Men betray your trust. You know that. You lived it and have struggled to recover from the fallout.
That’s why I was in Sri Lanka. My father’s cavalier attitude after Trent’s treatment of me had cut so damn deep, though it shouldn’t have surprised me. Chasten Jones wasn’t an emotive man. He didn’t hug, nor had he sat with me through the early bouts of grief when my mother died.
Maybe that’s why I yearned to believe in Luka—not just with my baby and my future, but with my heart. I’d been desperate to share it for more than a decade.
The day passed with the tortuous slowness of a last day of elementary school before summer break. Each time I looked at the clock, I groaned to realize just minutes had passed. I couldn’t focus on my data, and I had to redo my math equations multiple times because I kept daydreaming about a certain hockey player.
Thankfully, I’d set my team up with their assignments yesterday, so few of them needed any direction. I wouldn’t have been capable of providing it.
The moment the clock struck the end of the workday, I rose from my seat and walked down to the car I’d ordered. I arrived home in less than five minutes, breathless, unsure, excited…
I tiptoed to the door of my condo because part of me expected it to be empty, for Luka’s sudden arrival to end with an equally sudden departure. Instead, I opened the door to a blast of delicious smells and cool air.
“What…” I began.
Luka strode toward me, gorgeous and intimidating in his T-shirt and low-slung jeans. He was barefoot—his toes long and elegant. His hair was disheveled, as if he’d spent the day running his fingers through it, and he had a couple of stains on his gray, V-neck T-shirt.
“I’m making you dinner, so we don’t have to go out tonight. You know, because you get tired…” He trailed off and peered at me. “Unless you’d rather go out?”
I licked my lower lip, frozen with my messenger bag in my hand and the door to my place still open.
“You…”
He eased around me and shut the door. Then he took my bag and set it on the couch. I just stood there, staring at him. Luka had short-circuited my brain. That ability would annoy me if I wasn’t so touched by the gesture.
He made me dinner.
No man had ever cooked for me—not my father nor Trent. It was such a simple thing, cooking. Providing sustenance for another person.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
I fell against his chest and struggled to hold back tears. I would not cry, not over something as mundane as a meal. He couldn’t know what a huge deal this was. I wouldn’t break down…
I shed a few tears into the stained cotton of his shirt. “Thank you.” My voice warbled. I cleared my throat and lifted my cheek from his chest. His concern was palpable. I needed to be honest. “No one’s ever made me dinner. Well, besides my mother, occasionally, and Ida Jane, but you get what I’m saying.”
“Ahhhh.” The worry in his expression waned a little. “Well, I’m not as good a cook as Ida Jane, so keep that in mind.”
I snuggled against his chest, reveling in the warmth of his arms around me. This. I’d craved this intimacy, fantasized about it with an intensity that frightened me. I’d never imagined that Luka would want to share such moments with me. I took a deep breath as I silently admitted my mistake.
I’d expected Luka to treat me like Trent and my father had. Because my father had made me out to be a simpleton whose only purpose was to have the man of his choosing’s babies, when he wanted them. Therefore Luka, who didn’t love me and who was known for short flings, must see me the same way. Right?
I’d carved Luka out of my life before I even gave us a shot. I’d pre-judged him based on other people’s commentary, and on my painful past. That realization was particularly difficult to swallow.
Luka’s reputation came from fans, both ardent admirers and jilted women he’d brushed off. People who didn’t know him well. People who made assumptions about him, like I had.
Why hadn’t I realized that before?
I lifted my head and met his gaze. I offered him a tremulous smile. “I owe you an apology.”
“For?”
I inhaled a shaky breath and exhaled on a shudder. “For believing what I read about you instead of focusing on how you treated me. I’m so sorry, Luka.”
He cupped my face in his hands, and I leaned into him. Though I wanted to close my eyes and soak up the contentment, I kept my gaze locked on his. I needed him to see that I was sorry, that I understood and took responsibility for my actions.
“From now on, I think it would be best if you and I talked to each other rather than making assumptions,” he said calmly, his eyes warm. “Okay?”
I hesitated. Whatever was on my face caused his expression to soften.
“I won’t ask you to spill your every secret tonight, but we’re connected, Millie. For life. I want to talk to you. To know you.” He hesitated, and I desperately wanted to know what he’d chosen not to say.
He waited. I did, too. But how could I push him for his secrets when I wasn’t ready to share mine?
“Okay.”
“Good,” he said. “Great. So…would you like to eat in tonight?”
I smiled. “I’d love to eat the meal you made.”
A relieved grin blossomed across his face, and I caught my breath as his dimples peeked from his cheeks. He was just so beautiful. I touched his cheekbone, once again begging the universe to give Bree his incredible facial structure. I hadn’t been able to discern much from the sonogram except that she had all her features and they were perfect.
Luka dipped his head closer, and his breath bathed my lips and cheek. With a faint shiver, I inched closer, pressing my belly into his. We both paused, my breath baited, as the enormity of deciding what came next hit me. I teetered on a tiny pivot; the direction I chose would impact Luka, Bree, and me.
If I pulled back, he’d let me. If I pushed forward, we’d both accept that I was acknowledging the chemistry between us and giving Luka at least a tacit agreement to pick up our sexual relationship.
He murmured in my ear, “Be sure.”
“Are you?” I breathed.
“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”
That sealed my choice—if it even was one. I lifted on my tiptoes as he bent closer, and his lips touched mine.
He felt better than I remembered. Gentle but firm—both his lips and his grip on the base of my skull, my hip. He made me feel safe, sexy…wanted. Never had I been so immersed in the moment; I always needed to catalog the world and its threats and verify potential escape options. Not right now. Not with Luka.
He held me as if I were precious. His fly rubbed against my belly, and I felt the growing bulge behind it.
His kiss, though chaste and achingly sweet, echoed that sentiment. I was surrounded by his desire.
The oven timer went off, and I startled, pulling away with a laugh. I’d forgotten where I was. Maybe that should have scared me, but it didn’t. In fact, the ability to let go was exhilarating—something I’d need to study more, soon.
Luka brushed his lips over mine once more, gently, before he pulled away. “Do whatever it is you do when you get home. I’m going to finish up dinner. We’ll eat in twenty.”
I touched my fingertips to my lips. Already, I was right back under Luka Stol’s spell.
Chapter 7
Luka
Stay. In. Control.
I repeated that mantra over and over as I took the meatballs out of the oven and checked on the sauce. It was Alyssa’s recipe, one of my favorite comfort meals that I’d learned to cook once I moved to college. After I’d tasted what homemade food could be—not the frozen shit my parents left me—I’d asked her to teach me how to make her Sunday sauce, as she called it. While I’d never be a Michelin-starred chef, I could hold my own with simpler cuisine, especially Italian, which was Alyssa’s staple.
But finding the ingredients here, in Colombo, had proven tricky. I’d needed the help of the doorman, a driver, and a chatty clerk at the supermarket to gather everything required to make this dinner.
I really hoped Millie liked it.
“Oh my God,” she breathed from behind me.
Her breath puffed along my cheek, causing a deep shiver that ended with a pulling in my groin. I wanted this woman. From the first moment I’d seen her, I’d wanted her, but this wasn’t mere sexual interest. I was infatuated—had been since the beginning. Being here, spending time with her, only made that bigger.
“Are those meatballs?” she asked on a whimper.
I turned to face her, once again putting us chest to hip. She felt good. Strong but soft. Supple, like a great leather jacket. Except Millie was prettier than any piece of apparel and more intriguing. Yeah, I shouldn’t compare her to a coat. Jesus, I was a mess.
“Yep. I had a little trouble at the market, but I eventually found the ingredients.” Understatement of the year. But Millie didn’t need to know that.
She licked her lips as she met my gaze with her wide, wondering eyes. “I adore meatballs.”
I grinned and winked. “I know.”
She returned her attention to the cookie sheet and swallowed. “Ida Jane?”
“Ida Jane,” I confirmed. “She said—and I quote—‘turnaround is fun.’ She told me you’d understand.”
Millie glanced up with a shy smile. “I do. I helped Maxim when he was trying to talk her into the courthouse wedding in Nashville.”
“You did?” I asked, surprised.
“Of course. He’s a good man. He’s got this look when he sees her.” Millie’s gaze dropped back to the meatballs, but not before I caught the longing she tried to mask. “When can we eat?”
“Hungry?”
She had to be. She was carrying around and growing an extra human; I’d live in a state of constant starvation if I had to go through that.
“Want one now and then more with the spaghetti and sauce?”
“God, yes.” She moaned. Quick as a sprite, she darted past me and nipped a fork from her drawer. She poked a small, browned round of meat and nibbled at the side. She moaned again as she chewed. “So good.” She licked her lips and attacked the rest of her treat, which had blood leaving my head and flowing straight to my dick.
Millie turned me on like no other woman. Ever.
Some of my teammates were vocal about their desire to only ever bed skinny models, but I was more liberal in my tastes. I’d always liked a woman who looked like she could take a pounding—no ultra-skinny chicks for me.
But Millie was more than her juicy ass and her bouncy tits that continued to tantalize me. She had a lovely hourglass shape that even her pregnancy hadn’t diminished, at least from behind. She was also fit—strong. I still wasn’t sure why she had those star-burst patterned scars on her hands, ones that looked like she’d punched something or someone many times. Enough to have her skin split more than once.
We’d get to a place where she told me about those scars—and the ones she carried inside. I hoped.
I cleared my throat because my thoughts were turning decidedly X-rated as I watched her tongue swipe her lower lip. “Want to change before we eat? The sauce needs to simmer a bit more, and I’ll start the water to boil now that you’re home.”
She paused from licking the fork, her tongue sliding back into the soft recess of her mouth. I gripped the counter behind me to keep from reaching for her and slamming my lips to hers with all the hunger pent up after months of missing her. “You should go. Now.”
“I…sure.” She turned and disappeared, looking a bit like a dog that had been kicked.
I heaved a long, harsh sigh. Shit. I had many questions, but I needed to let her open up at her own pace. It was frustrating, but it was also the best way to learn about Millie. And I wanted to know everything. Also, I was pretty sure I’d just failed to meet one of Millie’s needs. Problem was, I wasn’t sure which need it was. And that pissed me off.
Women were monstrously confusing creatures.
But how was I supposed to know what a woman needed if she didn’t tell me?
Also, even if I could get to that point with Millie, I sucked at relationships. I knew this because I’d never had one for more than a week or two, max. Alyssa told me I’d never put any effort into getting to know a woman before. She said I was “surface,” which wasn’t wrong but also pissed me off.
Things were getting better between Millie and me, now that I was here, but I had a long, slow, frustrating road ahead before I made the progress with her that I needed to. And plenty of chances to mess it up along the way.
Millie
I slunk into my bedroom and removed my cardigan and dress. In the bathroom, I washed away the sweat of the day and took off my makeup. Of course I had to pee, too, but that was par for the pregnancy course. Once I’d washed my hands and brushed my hair, I went back out into my bedroom to grab some lounge clothes.
“Millie…” Luka stopped talking and just stared at me from the doorway.
I fought the urge to cover myself—he’d seen me naked before, and this was his baby growing in my bulging middle. Whatever affection he might be feeling, I now knew he didn’t want me sexually after he’d told me to back off a few minutes ago. Got that message loud and clear, so I might as well let him take in the changes his baby had wrought. I clenched my fists, struggling to keep my breathing slow and steady. I felt so exposed.
