Breathe, page 16
As her eyes went damp.
As Smitty sniffed loudly in the corner. “Romance, man,” he blubbered. “It gets me every time.”
“The romance gets me every time too, Squishy,” Eva said lightly, and leaned in, kissed him squarely on the mouth—and did it long enough that Theo knew this would also end up on the team’s social channels.
He couldn’t find the strength to care.
Not with Eva looking at him like that.
Not with her hand dropping to his chest, to the spot above where his heart was pounding.
Pounding so hard it took him a minute to really hear what she’d said.
To process it.
And the fact that Smitty was grinning.
Squishy.
He’d heard.
His whole team had.
The entire locker room had—players and press alike.
Fucking hell.
Thirty-One
Eva
In retrospect, calling Theo Squishy in a locker room full of cameras, teammates, and tape recorders hadn’t been the smartest.
Case in point?
His stall currently filled with Squishmallows and those rubbery squishy toys all the kids had these days.
He hated it.
His smirking teammates, however, were already in love.
She winced into her phone’s camera, mouthing, “Sorry,” before she turned it around, catching the full stall and now her extended hand, holding yet another squishy, this one with an adorable little face she wanted to…well, squish. She walked forward, placed it on the already overflowing pile, gently patting its head for good measure.
Then she flipped the camera back to face herself, grinned, winked, and clicked off, pocketing her cell.
And rotated to face Theo, who’d already showered, hair darkened from the water and haphazardly pushed back.
“Hi,” she said, lips curved as she moved over to him, winding her arms around his middle.
He was hard and hot from the shower, his skin a little damp.
Just the way she liked him.
Mostly because it reminded her of the other times she’d been pressed to him and his skin was damp.
And naked.
And…her inner dirty-minded woman cackled.
More naked time please!
She smiled up at him, knew that—considering they’d just gone up three games to one in the first round of the playoffs with the win tonight—sexy, naked time was on her agenda.
The only question was his house or hers.
“You’re lucky you’re beautiful,” he grumbled, even as his hand came up, gently pushed back a few strands of hair that were getting in her eyes. “You know that, right?”
Gentle, even while she was teasing him.
And helping his teammates burn him.
By filling his stall with squishies…and posting that fact online.
And he wasn’t freaking out about it—not about that or about their story being fodder for all the TikToks. Hell, she was feeling a little weird about their sudden blip of fame, even knowing that they’d fade right back into oblivion once all the hockey daddy and STFUATTDLAGG memes went away.
However long that took.
Because she had to admit she’d watched him crooking his finger at her, his soft, “Come here, sweetheart,” echoing through the speakers of her phone and sending a chill down her spine more than a few times.
It was fucking hot.
And she had lived it.
Maybe she’d get him to order her around when they went back to his place.
Just to feel the commands shiver down her spine.
His place because his bed was bigger and neither of them had to work tomorrow—and neither did Dommie, who was on Mom Duty—so they had all day.
All day to play.
Smiling, she leaned back and pressed a kiss to his jaw, the bristles of his beard (that he wouldn’t shave because he was a superstitious hockey player and during the playoffs, those superstitions grew for all of the players—along with their playoff beards). “I am lucky,” she told him—half joking, half seriously—“that you hit me with that door.”
He’d been reaching for her misbehaving hair again, probably intending to do more of that gentle smoothing back.
But her words had him freezing and slanting a look in her direction.
He didn’t even have to say, “Really?” out loud.
Grinning, she rose on tiptoe, kissed him long enough that Smitty boomed, “Break it up, kids, and find a private room!”
To which she dropped back onto the soles of her feet, her cheeks flaming hot.
Smitty tugged lightly at her ponytail as he moved by them to his stall, grinning as he took in the pile. “Though,” he said, still booming, “I have to say I am impressed with your Squishy stacking skills.”
He bent, started to put on his shoes.
Perfect timing.
She reached into her backpack, tugged out one last squishy—and waggled her brows at Theo, showing him the stuffed toy she’d brought especially for Smitty and all his troublemaking, shit-giving glory.
He was still talking, teasing Theo as he tied his shoes. Whistling softly, she quickly tossed the stuffed toy to Walker, who was on Smitty’s other side.
Squishy pile. Smitty. Walker.
Her partner in crime.
He caught the toy, and she bit her lip to hold back her giggles as he stealthily placed it on the bench, all of an inch from Smitty’s thigh.
“And if you’re really going to keep your woman happy, you really should—eek!”
Smitty was tall, the tallest guy on the team, and huge, with shoulders that rivaled the breadth of a Mack truck, but the sound that came out of his mouth was…inconceivable.
High-pitched.
Loud—well, okay, that was Smitty to a T.
The big man lurched up to his feet, hopping away from the toy at his side and knocking into the pile of squishies that had taken over Theo’s stall.
Theo, who had thought far enough ahead to pull out his phone and start recording Smitty.
“Please tell me you got that all on video,” she whispered.
“Every glorious syllable of it,” he told her.
She giggled.
“I didn’t know a human could make that sound,” Walker said, chuckling as he moved to stand by them, where they were watching the show of Smitty trying to crawl out of the pile of squishies without getting close to the offending toy.
A wombat.
Eva didn’t get it. Wombats were adorable and fluffy and cuddly and—
Somehow Smitty had gotten a stick because her wombat went sailing across the locker room, colliding with the other wall.
Smitty clenched the stick, hung his head, breathing heavily.
Then he was glaring up at her and Theo and Walker, along with most of the rest of the team. All of whom were busting up.
“Evil,” Smitty said, pointing the stick at them. “All of you are evil!”
She smiled at him beatifically. “You know we love you.”
“Evil,” he repeated, setting the stick next to the pile of scattered squishies. “And because of that, I’m not cleaning this”—he waved a hand at the stuffies—“up. Well”—he crouched down, picked up an adorable bunny and carefully set it on the bench—“I’m not cleaning them up except for that one,” he muttered, snagging his messenger bag from the shelf overhead, slanting a glare at all of them one more time. “I’m going to sic Kailey on you fuckers.”
“Love you!” Eva called as he beelined for the door.
Theo wove an arm around her middle, hauled her back against his chest. “You trying to make me jealous, Stubbs?”
She dropped her head back onto his collarbone, smiled up at him—
And felt every part of her freeze.
Because it was like all the puzzle pieces of this man had just slotted into place.
Because she’d almost said, “You know I love you too.”
But…it was too soon, and she’d only had nice Theo for such a short amount of time, and…
It was too soon.
So, she shoved that down even as the truth of it settled in her belly, her heart, her mind.
Too soon.
Too much.
She just needed to ride this wave, enjoy this moment. She knew how quickly things could go bad, could turn toxic, how quickly her future could be derailed.
This is different.
He’s different.
Those statements were written across her brain in big, fat Sharpie.
And she wanted to believe them.
It was just…too soon.
“It’s working,” he rumbled, nipping lightly at the spot behind her ear. “Let’s go home, yeah?”
Too soon. Too soon. Too fucking soon.
Breathe.
She exhaled.
They had now. They had this moment, this laughter and togetherness and bright, shiny blip in time.
That had to be enough.
Because, someday, it might all go away.
“Yeah,” she said, pressing her hand to Theo’s chest, feeling the steady pulse of his heart below. “Let’s go home.”
Because she was going to soak up every moment.
For as long as she had it.
Thirty-Two
Theo
“Fuck,” he groaned as she moved on top of him, tits bouncing as she worked his dick, drawing herself up and down the throbbing, hard length of his cock, each bounce and stroke catapulting him closer and closer to a fucking explosion.
Her cheeks were flushed, hair a mess and all in her face, but she didn’t seem to mind as she arched back, resting her hands on his thighs as she lifted up and ground down.
“Theo,” she moaned, her pussy convulsing, fluttering around him.
Telling him she was close.
But not close enough.
Because he was closer.
Snaking a hand down between them, he pressed his thumb to her clit, circled it exactly as she liked it, got to feel her clench around him, the rhythm of her strokes faltering.
He had her, though, steadying her with a hand on her hip, sliding her up and down while still working her clit, driving her to the edge with a frenetic type of focus.
Because he was close.
Too close.
Bucking up, he latched onto her breast, using his free hand to drive her down on him as he thrust deeper, faster.
Harder.
She shuddered. “Theo—” Her head flew back again as she ground against his hand and came, squeezing his cock like a vise and sending him right over the edge behind her.
They rocked through the subsiding waves of pleasure, moving together slowly.
Until she collapsed against him, breath hot and damp on his throat, her body limp and still aside from the occasional shuddering breath as she slumped against his chest.
“Why?” she murmured.
“Why what, sweetheart?” he murmured back.
“Why is it always so good?”
He chuckled and carefully set her on the couch. “The universe needed to find a way so we wouldn’t completely fuck this up.” She blinked up at him. “Make it so we couldn’t ignore the attraction…thus, eventually, we couldn’t ignore all the good there is between us.”
Expression softening, she placed her hand over his heart. “I think you may be right.”
And just like always, the organ beneath her palm skipped a beat, knowing it belonged to her.
“I know I’m right.” Smiling at her frown, he covered her with a blanket then closed the drawer of the side table.
A yawn vibrated through her as her eyes slid closed then back open slowly before she muttered, “I still don’t know why you have condoms in every room of your house.” Those lids dropped to half-mast, sleep making her irises soft. They’d both been tested, given clear bills of heath, but had opted to use protection because it was responsible. “I’m not saying I don’t like it for convenience’s sake.” Another yawn. “Just that it seems like overkill.”
Chuckling softly, he tucked the blanket around her. “I’ll tell you another time, yeah?”
She nodded jerkily, sleep clearly already intruding, so he left her there and went and took care of the condom. She was snoring softly by the time he made it back, so he just carefully scooped her up and held her securely to his chest before climbing the stairs and tucking her into bed.
He didn’t feel the least bit tired—not with the adrenaline from the game coursing through him—but when he got into bed next to her and held her close, his eyes slid closed.
And he fell asleep, more content than he’d been…
Perhaps ever.
“You really don’t have to be here,” Eva said a couple of days later. For at least the tenth time since he’d swung by her apartment and picked her up that morning.
“I want to be here,” he said—also for at least the tenth time.
Charged silence from her side of the car.
Teeth nibbling into a plump bottom lip.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured, reaching over and taking her hand, heart squeezing when she gripped onto his tightly enough to make his bones protest. “I want to be here.”
“But you have to fly out tomorrow, and you should be using this time to rest and prepare. If you guys win the next game, the series will be over and you’ll have extra rest before the next round.”
“First,” he said, drawing her hand over the console and placing it on his thigh, smoothing his fingers over hers when she would have pulled back. “Hockey is my job, but it’s not my life. If I want to help my girlfriend”—she sucked in a breath here, nails biting through his jeans—“yes, my girlfriend”—he slanted a look at her as he stopped at a signal—“if I want to help my girlfriend check some items off her to-do list, then I’m going to do that. Especially if it’s on my day off and I want to spend time with her instead of sitting on my ass and playing video games by myself.”
Her brows drew together. “But you don’t play video games.”
“I don’t play them around you because I’d rather do other things.” He sent her a look that told her exactly what other things he’d rather do.
Another pause. Then, “I don’t want you to change for me.”
He huffed out a laugh as the light turned green. “I wanted to change—or wanted to stop being an asshole, anyway.”
“That wasn’t you,” she said softly.
Standing up for him.
When he’d been the asshole to her.
“It was me,” he told her. “Bullshit in my head, yeah, but it was still me.”
“That wasn’t you,” she said again.
“How about I stop arguing about that when you stop arguing about me being happy to help you out?”
She inhaled.
“Mostly because people who care about each other should lighten their partner’s load, but also because the sooner we get your mom sorted, the sooner we’ll get back to spending the day together—preferably naked and horizontal.” A beat. “Though, I’d take a repeat of the shower like this last night.”
Her hand tightened again, for a whole other reason.
The same one that had his dick twitching in his underwear.
“I’m not used to this.”
This, he assumed, being someone having her back. He knew that Dommie was there and did her best, but it would be like Lana or Rose trying to take over for him. There were just some things that came with being the older sibling.
Eva wouldn’t relax until she’d done it herself, and this had been doubly influenced because of the bigger role she’d taken when her dad had gotten sick and, more so, after he’d died.
So, he’d help her.
He’d be there for her today because tomorrow he was flying out on a fucking airplane and would be gone for two days, and she would be on her own.
And that would be their future for the next chunk of time during his—hopefully—long playing career.
Him here.
Gone. Training. On the road. Potentially traded.
This professional hockey thing wasn’t for the faint of heart.
So, he would be here for her when he could. Would drive them over to Eva’s mom’s house and make sure she felt like her mom was secure and settled and feeling okay.
Because he wasn’t always here to help.
“I know you’re not used it,” he told her, turning onto her mom’s street, scanning the houses, looking for the tan and blue one that he’d driven to one time before, when he’d dropped some clothes and food off for Eva and her family.
He hadn’t met the Moreno clan then—had just left the stuff on the porch, not wanting to intrude.
But he was going to meet them today.
Or at least, he was going to meet Eva’s brothers and Dommie when she wasn’t upset and crying at the hospital and Eva’s mom when she was feeling a bit better and not in a medically aided rest.
He was nervous, no doubt.
But determined to be there for Eva.
He pulled up to the curb, turned off the engine. “I know you’re not used to it,” he said again. “But I’m here and not going anywhere.”
What he didn’t know was how hard that promise would be to keep.
Thirty-Three
Eva
“You’re stupid, baby,” her mom said, like the endearment would soften the insult.
Like the baby would mean that calling her stupid didn’t slice deep.
The only thing that made it somewhat bearable was that she’d heard it all before—that and worse—and she could just let it roll down her back, ignore the slight sting of the words and get on tackling the to-do list that seemed to grow longer every time she visited.
“I need help with grocery shopping, baby.”
“Why’d you pick such crappy fruit? Do you not know anything?”
“Vacuum the carpet in my bedroom.”
“No, stupid. Not like that. You need to go in all the same direction, baby.”
“The milk doesn’t go in the door, stupid.”
