One-Timer (Carolina Comets), page 12
“What’s that?”
“You just don’t want to see if I’m right and it’s a girl.”
“Well, do you want to know what I think?”
“What’s that?” I echo.
“I think I need to pee.”
I mock gasp. “I am shocked. Shocked!”
“Always right when I sit down too.” She rolls her eyes, setting her laptop aside, then rises from the couch. She teeters a bit, and I’m on my feet in an instant to catch her.
I grip her waist, holding her steady. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” she says, “just a bit wobbly.” She points to her belly. “Still getting used to this big thing.”
“It’s not big.”
“Don’t try to placate me, Lowell. I’m big.”
“You’re not. You look just the size of a bell pepper, or a bottle of baby shampoo. Take your pick.” Her brows scrunch together at my words. “Baby sites—they’re weird.”
“Ah.” She nods, pushing away. “Be right back.”
She slowly makes her way to the bathroom, and I don’t dare sit down until she’s shut the door behind her.
I don’t like that she’s unstable, but I guess I can also understand. Her body is changing so much every single day even if she can’t always see it. It’s…well, kind of fucking amazing if you ask me.
I flop back down on the couch and nearly knock her laptop off the cushion with the force. I manage to grab it before it crashes to the floor and, in the process, wake it up.
I know I shouldn’t look. It’s a total invasion of privacy.
But I do it anyway because pulled up on the screen is an apartment, and I think that might involve me just a little bit.
Is she thinking of moving? She hasn’t mentioned it and I just forgot, has she?
I click around the page and check out the photos. It’s…fine. Not exactly what I would want to live in, but then again, I have the luxury of being picky.
It’s a two-bedroom and the rent is almost double what she’s paying here, not to mention it’s on the complete opposite side of town…and the arena, which means I’ll be farther away from her and the baby.
I don’t want to be farther away from her or the baby.
I…
Oh shit.
Does she want me to ask her to move in with me?
I like being with her. I like touching her. And I definitely like what we did last week at my house.
But that’s all different than actually being in a relationship.
I’m not sure I’m ready for that even if we are having a baby together. It’s one thing to love and care for the baby growing inside her. The baby can’t hurt me. All the baby will know is how to love me.
But Hollis…she can do so much more damage than that. I’m not sure I’m ready to give anyone that power yet.
I hear the toilet flush, then the water turn on, so I click back to the first photo and drop the laptop back where she had it. I do my very best not to look guilty when she comes out of the bathroom, pretending to scroll through something on my phone.
“Ah, so much better. For like twenty minutes, I mean.” She laughs at her own joke as she climbs back onto the couch.
I halfheartedly smile at her. She turns her attention back to her laptop.
Click.
Scroll.
Click.
Scroll.
I don’t stop watching her.
I can’t stop watching her.
She notices.
“Do you remember at Harper and Collin’s wedding when I ordered that chocolate milk and you didn’t make fun of me for it?”
“Yes.”
“And remember how Emilia came over and she and I danced?”
“Yes. That’s when I discovered you’re a liar who loves Queen.”
“Everybody loves Queen, Lowell. I’m pretty sure that’s an actual law somewhere.”
“I don’t think that’s how that works, but okay. Why are you asking about the wedding?”
“I was just wondering if you remember when you sat at the bar staring at me, watching me dance for like twenty minutes like a complete creep.”
“You knew I was watching you?”
“You’re kind of hard to ignore.” She lifts a brow. “Anyway, I just wanted you to know you’re doing it again.”
“Doing what again?”
“Staring at me like a creep.”
Fuck.
“It’s your beauty. I can’t get enough of it.”
It’s true, but it’s not the only reason I’m staring. I’m staring because I’m scared she wants more and I might not be able to give it to her.
She snorts. “I hope hockey covers your vision insurance. You clearly need your eyes checked.”
I frown. That’s the second time just today that she’s commented on her body, and I wonder if it’s because she’s embarrassed about the changes.
I sigh, then reach over and push her computer closed, stealing it right out of her hands.
“Hey! I was reading something!”
I set the laptop on the table. “What were you reading?”
“A…uh…an article! Ha!”
“Oh yeah?” I lift a challenging brow. “About what?”
“How to get away with murdering your baby daddy.”
I can’t help but grin.
Baby daddy.
Daddy.
I’m going to be a dad.
It’s the first time I’ve heard the word in reference to me, and I like it—and not in a kinky way. I’m going to be some little boy or little girl’s daddy, and I don’t think it’s fully sunk in yet. I’m not sure it will sink in until the baby is here.
It’s…scary.
And exciting too.
But mostly scary.
I shake my head, pushing away all the thoughts trying to intrude, then focus back on the task at hand: crawling across the couch until I’m lying on top of her and we’re fitted perfectly against one another.
“You can’t murder me.”
“You’re right. Collin already called dibs.”
“I can take Collin.”
“Uh, the busted lip you had a while back says otherwise.”
“No. The busted lip I had says I deserved what I got, not that I couldn’t take him.”
“Hmm. I’m betting on Collin.”
“Oh?” I ask, dropping my head and running my nose along her jawline, taking in the scent that’s completely her. “Is that so?”
“Mmm”—she moans when I run my tongue over the column of her neck, unable to stop myself from tasting her—“hmm. That’s s-so.”
I chuckle against her, loving how responsive she is. I press my hips into her, letting her feel everything she’s doing to me, letting her feel that even if she thinks she’s not attractive, I do.
I keep pressing kisses along her neck and her collarbone and her cheek and everything I can except for her mouth, all while I rock my hips into her. She whimpers every time my cock brushes just right between her legs, and she arches her hips up, seeking more contact.
“Hey, Hollis?”
“Hmm?”
I rub against her again. Another moan. I drag my lips away from her body and pull back, breaking our contact.
This time when she whimpers, it’s pained.
“No. What are you doing? I—”
“Hush,” I interrupt, staring down at her. “I need you to listen to me, okay?”
“Okay,” she says, and I laugh because that is not hushing.
She tucks her lips together, a promise not to say anything else.
“You’re beautiful.” She opens her mouth, but I cut her off with a sharp glare and she clamps her mouth shut. “Everything about you is beautiful, even the parts you don’t like. Hell, especially the parts you don’t like. Those are my favorite because they need the extra love.”
A smile starts to slip across her lips.
“What you’re doing…growing this baby inside of you…it’s magical. Sexy. You’re sexy. I need you to realize that, okay? I need you to realize that seeing your stomach grow and knowing that’s my baby in there is the hottest thing I have ever had the pleasure of witnessing.”
She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t have to. I can see the tears sliding out of her eyes and into her hair.
“So the next time you decide to talk crap about yourself, I want you to remember that every time you do, my boner dies, and that’s just a waste of a good boner.”
A laugh bubbles out of her, and I capture it with a kiss, wanting to keep it for myself. I might not be able to give her everything she needs, like a relationship or a welcome into my home, but I can give her this right now.
I kiss her until my alarm goes off, reminding me I need to be at the rink soon.
Then I kiss her some more. And once again just before I walk out the door.
“If we win tonight,” I tell her, “that’s becoming my pregame ritual. It has to—for science.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “Damn hockey players and their superstitions.”
That night, we beat Seattle four to zero.
I never understood it before when the dads on the team would complain about being away from their wives and kids, but I get it now, and I have never been more excited for a plane to land in my life. I’m so damn excited I almost become one of those people—the clapper when the pilot successfully lands.
I don’t care.
I don’t care because I miss Hollis and I need to see her.
I realize I’m probably growing way too comfortable spending time with her, but I can’t stay away. Whenever we’re not together, I want to be. Whenever we are together, I never want to leave. I just like being around her, and it’s not even all entirely related to her carrying my child.
I just like her.
I get it now, what Smith was talking about when he said he was learning what matters and what doesn’t, what was missing and what wasn’t.
Hollis is what I’ve been missing.
I realize that now as I stumble into her apartment building just after two AM. Our plane landed not too long ago, and though I kept telling myself it was too late to bother her and just needed to go home, I drove here anyway. Even though I kept telling myself to turn around and not get on the elevator, I did it anyway, and even though I promised myself I wouldn’t knock on her door, that’s exactly what I’m doing right now.
I rap my knuckles against the wood, and it’s only seconds until I hear a shuffling coming from inside the apartment.
Hollis pulls the door open. Though her hair is rumpled, she doesn’t look like she was sleeping at all. In fact, it looks like she was waiting up.
For me.
She’s wearing a thin t-shirt that’s pulled tight over her stomach, which I swear is even bigger than it was the last time I saw her. Her tits—which have gone up at least half a cup size—are straining against the fabric so much that her nipples are nearly visible through it. She’s wearing a pair of tiny shorts and a look in her eye that says she’s hungry…and not for food.
My cock instantly springs to life, straining against the dress slacks I didn’t bother changing out of.
“Hi,” she says quietly, her lips tipping up in the corner.
I grin back. “Hey.”
She doesn’t move, and I don’t either.
Then suddenly we’re both moving at once.
I have no idea who reaches for who first, but one second I’m standing outside her apartment, and the next I’m inside with her against the wall, her legs wrapped around me, our mouths fused together like kissing each other is what they were made for.
Not kissing her for four days felt like hell.
Kissing her for four seconds feels like heaven.
And I have no idea how I’m going to stop.
14
HOLLIS
I shouldn’t be waiting up for Lowell for several reasons.
I don’t know what time he’ll be getting back to North Carolina.
I have no idea if he’s coming over here because it’s not something we’ve discussed.
We’re not together.
I’m getting too attached and I know I am.
Despite knowing all of this, I’m waiting up anyway.
I miss him. I miss hanging out with him and laughing with him. I miss scrolling through baby websites with him, getting ourselves all worked up over what’s to come. I just miss…him.
Something changed between us that night at his house. Not just physically, but emotionally too. It was the first time I really got to see how invested in this he truly is. You can say you’re going to do something all you want, but actions speak louder than words, and Lowell’s action of building our baby a room definitely spoke volumes.
A knock sounds at my door, and I jump off the couch before I can think too much about why I’m so excited by the idea of seeing Lowell, then swing the door open.
A lot of the guys tend to change out of their suits when they’re on the plane back home, but Lowell didn’t tonight. He’s wearing a perfectly tailored dark gray suit that makes his green eyes look even more captivating and a smirk that says he’s come over for a reason.
He rakes his eyes down my body, and I swear I can feel his stare penetrating me between my legs just like his tongue did a few weeks back. We haven’t had a repeat of that night, but I want one—badly. Especially after the many make-out sessions we’ve had since then. He always seems to pull back at the last minute when it’s starting to get good, but tonight, I want more.
Tonight, I want him.
“Hi,” I whisper.
“Hey,” he says, that grin of his growing.
I have no idea how long we stand there staring at one another, just like I have no idea who it is that makes the first move. All I know is one second Lowell is standing outside my door grinning at me, and the next he has me pressed against the wall with his mouth fused to mine.
“God, I missed your mouth,” he says against me.
I missed you.
But I don’t say that.
Instead, I say, “I missed yours more.”
Then he kisses me on said lips. He kisses me until I’m almost positive they’ll be bruised tomorrow. Until I’m literally writhing against him, needing relief. Until I am so fucking turned on I’m going to explode if something else doesn’t happen soon.
“Lowell…”
He chuckles darkly, like he knows what he’s been doing to me all along. He goes to pull away, pumping the brakes like he has been doing, and I can’t this time.
I need a release.
I clutch the lapels on his suit, not letting him run, and look straight into his deep green eyes, loving the way they darken as he begins to understand what I’m silently asking for.
Begging for.
He gulps once. Twice.
“Are you sure?” he asks quietly.
He’s not asking me if I’m sure I want to have sex. We both know the answer to that. He’s asking if I’m sure I understand what we’re about to do really means.
Sex.
Just sex.
I know that, and he knows that too. He can’t offer more, and I’m not even sure if I’m ready for more.
But this right now? This I am definitely ready for.
Just sex.
I want just sex.
“Yes.”
His eyes flicker with just that simple word, then he’s ravaging my mouth again.
We kiss for what feels like hours before he wrenches his mouth from mine, down my chin, and over my throat. He kisses me there, nipping and sucking, leaving behind spots that will surely be visible tomorrow, but right now I don’t care. Not when his hand is sliding along my side, his fingers brushing the waistband of my shorts but never slipping beneath the tiny bit of fabric. Over and over, torturing me slowly. Deliciously.
I love and hate it, and I want more yet I want him to stop.
When he finally dips his fingers into my shorts, I sigh with the relief of what’s to come.
Lowell slowly moves his fingers lower and lower until just the pad of his finger brushes over my clit. I hiss at the contact, and he laughs again like an asshole, clearly enjoying my discomfort.
He doesn’t move his hand for a long time. He just holds the pad of his finger there, alternating between kissing paths up my neck and sucking on my lips.
Then finally—fucking finally—he dips a single finger into me, and my knees nearly buckle.
“Fuck, you’re wet.”
“Because you’re torturing me!”
He chuckles again. “You like it.”
“I do,” I pant, bearing down on his finger that’s gliding in and out of me, loving the way his palm is brushing against my clit. “So much. But you know what else I’d like?”
“Hmm?”
“To be fucked.”
He pauses for only a moment, then says, “I think I can manage that.”
I cry out when he withdraws his finger from me, and then yet again when he lifts the glistening digit to his mouth and licks it.
“Shit,” he groans. “I almost forgot how good you taste.”
“You…like doing that?”
“Like it? Are you kidding me?” He laughs mockingly, one side of his lips turning up in a smirk. “I’d spend an entire twenty-four hours with my face buried in your pussy if I could.”
I tremble at the thought, loving the idea of it, especially given the last time he was between my legs, I thought I was going to stop breathing at one point.
He doesn’t miss the shiver.
“Is that what you want?” He cups me through my shorts. “For me to eat your pretty pussy?”
“Y-Yes. No. Yes.”
He laughs. “Well, which one is it, darlin’?”
“What I mean is yes, but not now. Right now, I want…” I gasp as his thumb presses into me through my shorts, circling my clit with a force that’s just delightful enough. “I want…”
“To be fucked, was it?”
I gulp, nodding.
He steps away—like completely away.
I reach for him, but he shakes his head just once. He kicks his shoes off, then, slowly, he shoves his suit jacket off his shoulders and tosses it aside. His hands drop to his belt, and I practically salivate watching him unhook it. He doesn’t take his pants off though. He doesn’t pull his cock out, and somehow, it’s hotter than if he were actually naked.
