“He does,” she agrees, reaching out for the boards with one hand and gripping my hand tightly in the other as she raises one foot to step off the ice and onto the rubber mats that line the floor. “But you need to be happy, too. Maybe you could hire a nanny, or—”
“I won’t have someone else raise my son for me,” I advise her, my voice tainted with an assertiveness I hadn’t meant to convey. I sigh, letting go of her hand only after she’s up onto the floor with both feet, then run my hands through my hair. “Shit, I’m sorry, Meg. I just...that little boy is my everything. He’s already lost so much. All I can do is put him first no matter what, with hopes he’ll know I tried my best to make up for it.”
A crooked grin pulls at one side of her mouth. “You’re a good dad,” she says.
“Is that why you’re smiling like a fool?” I narrow my eyes curiously.
“No, that’s because you just called me Meg.”
It hits me like a ton of bricks. “Huh. I guess I did, didn’t I?”
“You did once before, too, I just didn’t mention it. Careful,” she smirks, giving me a playful nudge. “I’m starting to think you might actually like me and not just be being nice to me for Aunt Nancy’s sake.”
She turns and walks toward the locker room to take her skates off, looking back once over her shoulder with a glint in her eye that has me standing there motionless as other people walk around me on either side.
Careful, I think to myself. I’m starting to think I like you, too.
Chapter Seven
Megan
There’s something different about Craig Connelly when he’s away from Aunt Nancy’s prying eyes, away from his routine and his responsibilities.
He’s shown me his cocky, playful side during the last few days, sure, but there’s more to it tonight. It’s like the skates on his feet and the rink that stretches out in front of him have released a new level of playfulness in him, a renewed energy that had been shut up inside him since he came back to Cardon Springs and put on his game face to be the responsible single daddy he’s supposed to be.
But that’s not all there is to Craig, I can see that now. And I kind of like it. Kind of like him.
And only minutes ago, I blurted out that I think he likes me, too, which has made things brutally awkward in the time that has followed. Craig has said little since he came into the locker room. I’ve been blushing like mad since I turned away from him, but I tried hard to act like I meant to say what I did, like it was only a joke. A flirtatious one, but a joke, nonetheless.
He takes his place on the bench beside me and expertly unties his skates, pulling them off and shoving his feet into his shoes. Then, without asking him to, Craig kneels down in front of me and very gently pushes my hands away from my own laces. He begins to loosen the knot, untying the skate I was struggling with and pulling it from my foot. His eyes flit up to meet mine and he offers me a momentary ghost of a grin, then begins to tackle the other skate.
Which is fine, because I’m still shocked by what I just saw in his dark chocolate eyes. There’s no mistaking it, no way I could misinterpret the blazing heat that smoldered in his gaze.
Lust. Barely contained, but barely noticeable, too. Well concealed unless you know what you’re looking for.
And I do, because a similar blaze of simmering warmth has been plaguing me all night, each time his hands touched mine or his fingertips grazed my ankle while he helped me with my skates.
Being in the presence of Craig Connelly has just become a whole lot more dangerous.
Thankfully, when his gaze returns to mine after he rises from his crouched position and reaches for his belongings, the blaze has been extinguished and I can look at him again without feeling the telltale crimson seeping into my cheeks.
“Ready to get out of here?” Craig asks, plucking the pair of skates from the bench with his free hand.
“Yeah.”
I let him lead the way back out to the truck. Craig opens the passenger door for me, and I climb into the cab while he puts the skates into the truck bed. He goes around the back of the truck and climbs into the driver’s seat, silent. I wait for him to say something, anything, while I hold the seatbelt in my hand. But I’m too focused on the way his hands are clutching the steering wheel, knuckles white with the pressure. He’s staring ahead, through the windshield. At what, I don’t know, but he’s fixated on it.
If it weren’t for the look I’d seen in his eyes inside the arena, I’d be starting to think I’ve done something wrong. Then again, maybe I misinterpreted what I read in them. Maybe it was a flash of anger that had ignited. Maybe he’s downright livid I would assume such a thing and then jokingly toss it in his face. Maybe he’s—
Craig moves so fast I don’t see him clearly. But I feel him—God, do I feel him—as he dives towards me and crashes his mouth against mine, silencing any chance I have at words as well as any thoughts that had been screaming loudly in my mind.
Everything about his kiss is urgent. The way his tongue tangles with mine, the way his lips press against my own, dominating my mouth as though it’s his to own, his to protect and possess.
To hell with my thoughts, my apprehension and reservations about Craig, or about men in general. They don’t matter. All that does is the taste of this man on my tongue and the seductive way he consumes me, as though he’s familiar with the shape and taste and feel of me, but has been starved for me since the beginning of time.
I gasp, the sound lost somewhere between him and I. His fingers are slipped up under the hem of my sweater, exploring and caressing the soft, heated flesh just above the waistband of my jeans, and the electricity of his touch sends a raging storm of desire coursing through me. The sensation is too much and not enough all at once.
The muffled sound is enough to halt Craig’s fingers from going any further, and he breaks the kiss with a palpable reluctance, hovering so close to me that I can feel the damp heat of his breath still scorching my lips. “Are you okay?” His voice is hoarse, breathless. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
He pulls away, putting a distance of only inches between us, but it may as well feel like miles. Hands running through his hair, Craig turns to face me. “Megan, say something,” he pleads, apology lacing his words. “You can tell me it was a bad idea. I’m sorry.”
A bad idea. Hell, judging by the tingling of my skin and the racing beat of my heart, I’d have said it was a phenomenal fucking idea. But my brain is finally catching up, finally winning the battle over my very aroused body. “Right,” I say after a moment. “It was a bad idea.”
His expression falters.
“It’s okay,” I sigh. “It is, I swear. It’s fine.” It’s not fine, my body screams.
Craig seems to be mulling over what to say next, his hands pressed hard against the back of his neck as he lets out a long, steadying breath. He must choose to respond with silence because he turns the key in the ignition and shoves the shifter into drive.
Without a word. Without another glance in my direction.
It hurts to think that’s how this night is going to end—with a passionate kiss that leads to awkwardness and undoubtedly a ruined friendship before it even had time to start.
Craig drives past Alder Street, the street we would turn onto to go to Aunt Nancy’s. “Hey...” I turn to watch the street pass me by in the window, then wrench around to stare at him. “You missed the turn.”
But he knows that. He’s lived here almost his whole life. He would know these streets with his eyes closed.
He remains silent as he turns the pickup truck onto Main Street and takes the corner recklessly when he pulls the truck into the repair shop’s parking lot. He reaches over to the visor above the passenger seat and pulls it down, pressing the button on the square device clipped to it. The huge garage door screeches and rumbles as it opens. He drives ahead, parking the truck in the empty bay, beside my own rusty car.
“Craig?”
He press
es the button on the visor again and the door begins its loud, slow descent to close behind us. By the time the door touches the floor, shrouding us in darkness and blocking out the dim light of the streetlights, Craig’s mouth is on mine again, and this time he doesn’t pull away until we’re both gasping for air, our chests heaving with the weight of our need.
“What are we doing here?” I manage to choke out, seeing the dashboard dials reflect in his eyes just before they go out.
His thumb runs across my bottom lip, sending every nerve ending within me straight into overdrive. “You hesitated,” he replies simply, breathless. “When I said it was a bad idea. If you’re up for a bad decision, Meg, so am I.”
“You think this is a bad decision?” I can’t breathe, can’t do anything but search his eyes for something, anything, that will give me a clue as to what’s going on in that sexy head of his.
“To be honest, I’m not really interested in thinking at all,” he whispers, pressing his lips softly against mine as he reaches across my body and unbuckles my seatbelt. “The only thing I am interested in is you, and how you kissed me back.”
For a split second, everything stops. No movement, no sound, just a void as we watch and wait for each other to pull away, to stop things before—
I dive towards him, giving in to every ounce of bubbling arousal I can feel invading my mind and body. My lips crash against his, and Craig kisses me back, hard, pulling me across the bench seat and up onto his lap as I scramble to get as close to him as possible.
My legs straddle his thighs in the driver’s seat, and Craig fumbles with the buttons on the side of his seat, never once breaking our kiss. His tongue tangles with mine as the seat slides backwards, and he reclines it back as far as it will go.
We pull at the clothes that are barriers between us. I tug his shirt up and past his shoulders first, helping him to pull mine away from my body, too. In the darkness, I’m desperate to feel the heat of his skin against mine, to feel his muscles bunch with the exertion of showing me how badly he wants me.
Because I want him just as irrevocably.
“Megan, you’re so beautiful.” His voice is raspy as his eyes skim over my bare abdomen and the pale pink lace bra I’m still wearing.
Beautiful, he’d called me. Not hot, not some derogatory adjective a man would use if he was just giving into his most primal desires and taking me to get what he physically needed.
Craig Connelly wants more than that from me. At least, that’s how I construe the meaning of his breathless comment. That’s what I hope. Because I’m not a woman who takes giving myself to a man lightly. But I will give myself to this man, purely because I don’t remember a time when someone has so completely taken over my mind and body the way he has. Every breath, every feverish gasp and goosebump that rises on my flesh from his touch—it’s because of him. For him.
I want Craig, too. And to hell with whatever consequences come from it.
Chapter Eight
Craig
I’d given her the chance to tell me this was a bad idea. I’d paused and hesitated as much as I could, allowing her every opportunity I could muster to pull away from me and turn me down.
But Megan has given in to the same game we’ve been playing since the day I met her, and she’s doing the same thing I am—ignoring the rules completely. She’s got the same unrelenting desire coursing through her veins, and the same incessant need for actions that might result in something making sense. Anything.
Megan came to Cardon Springs looking for a fresh start, for a way to pick herself up from the cruelty and unfairness that life has cast upon her.
Instead, she found me—someone who’s just looking for the same thing.
That can’t be a coincidence. And as I slide my hands over her bare skin, my fingertips tingling with the electricity I can feel sparking between us, I know it’s not.
This isn’t a mistake. It can’t be. Which is exactly why I give up on words, give up on hesitancy, and allow my desire to just feel her to take over me.
The way her mouth melds against mine is intoxicating, and the way her hands are soft and firm at the same time as they explore my bare chest is the most sensual thing I’ve ever felt. But as our kiss becomes more consuming, our touches and movements more frantic, pure and unadulterated lust takes over, guiding us as we awkwardly unbutton and pull and tug our remaining clothes off, aching for more.
I need to be inside her. My guttural groans as Megan’s fingertips graze over the fly of my jeans are deeply rooted in agony. Judging by the flash of concern in her eyes, she knows it.
“I want you, Meg,” I manage to growl against her sweet mouth as my hands pull away her unclasped bra and cup her ample breasts in my hands. It’s her turn to moan with the sensation of my fingers circling her pert nipples, and despite how awkward it is to get undressed in the cramped space of my truck’s driver’s seat, the sight of her naked silhouette straddling my lap is absolutely breathtaking and worth every awkward and uncomfortable moment.
Megan unzips my jeans and I lift my hips to help her pull them down as far as she can get them. She pulls her soft lips from mine, letting out a long, frustrated sigh as she tugs desperately on the denim, determined to get every barrier out of our way.
“Meg,” I whisper, sliding my hands between us and holding her hands in mine. “Megan. Slow down. It’s okay.” I bring one hand up to glide around to the back of her neck, pulling her down to me again. “Just come here.”
I kiss her again, passionately, and she responds, moaning against my mouth. I shift in the seat, pushing my jeans just a bit farther down on my hips, enough to let my rigid cock spring free. The throbbing ache and pulsing isn’t eased by its release, and my breath hitches when Megan’s soft fingertips caress the silky-smooth skin along my shaft.
“Son of a—” I suddenly clutch her fingers desperately between my own, halting her. “Your touch is like fucking gasoline,” I choke out in a hoarse voice. “With the fire burning in me right now, you’re going to make me combust if you keep doing that.”
I can’t see her face clearly, but I’m almost sure I can hear the smile in her reply. “Sorry.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” I whisper against her lips, running my tongue along her bottom lip as I slip my fingers past the hem of her panties and caress the sensitive flesh beneath it.
“Me too,” she moans, guiding my hands away from the soft curls of her core. “Do you have a condom?”
If she’s embarrassed by asking, it doesn’t show in her voice. Silently, I hold her in place while stretching out to flip open the glovebox, retrieving my wallet from it and the condom I’ve kept in its folds for too long to admit to.
She pushes the fabric further to the side, rising up onto her knees. Her head is ducked to prevent hitting it on the truck cab ceiling, but she kisses me feverishly as she waits for me to unwrap and roll the condom on, then positions herself against the tip of my aching erection. I hold myself in place, struggling with the desire to buck my hips upwards and bury myself inside her.
Megan slowly lowers her body onto mine, letting out a long sigh as I sink into her wet core. Her tight walls clench deliciously around me, and a groan that sounds a whole lot like relief falls from my lips as I tilt my head back against the headrest and relish in the seductive bliss I feel just being enveloped by her body.
“Oh...” She whimpers when she rocks against me, sending a jolt of sensation careening through my nerve endings like molten lava. I can only imagine what it must feel like for her.
We’re slow and methodic at first, giving Megan time to adjust to my size and giving me a moment to calm myself down as much as I can. Each time her hips rock forward, I lift mine to meet her halfway, eliciting low, painfully sensual sounds from us both. My truck is filled with only the beating of our hearts as they pound achingly against our ribcages, and the soft whimpers and moans that pass between us amidst the kisses we share.
Without consciously doing it, though, the
pace of our movements becomes quicker, more feverish and greedy. My tongue isn’t just tasting Megan’s mouth anymore; it’s devouring it. Her hips aren’t just rocking against mine, they’re slamming against me. My movements are just as aggressive, and one hand juts up to press against the ceiling to steady myself and give me more leverage.
Megan lets out a strangled cry, her head tilting back as her hips meet each thrust with passionate desperation, her fingernails digging into my shoulders. The sting only fuels my need to give her everything her body is pleading for. The slick inner walls of her core are clenched tightly around my pulsing cock, squeezing me and pushing me closer and closer to my release with each decadent thrust.
“Christ,” I gasp, leaning forward to suck one of her hardened nipples just to prevent other pleas and expletives from toppling from my mouth.
“Yes...” she pants out in loud gasps as she slides my entire length into her and then back out again. “Yes...”
My hands grip her hips tightly, guiding her onto me, aching to feel every inch of her from the inside out. “Meg—”
I mean to warn her. Fuck, I try. But everything comes crashing down around me and my body shatters beneath her as she rocks against me again and again, forcing every muscle in her core to constrict and clench, bearing down on my rigid length as she comes apart with me deep inside her.
“Craig!” Megan cries out my name, clutching onto my shoulders with the desperation of someone about to be lost at sea, as her own release rages through her and extinguishes every flame of the blazing fire that had fueled her frantic movements only moments before.
Everything slows down—time, our breathing, our ability to move. I don’t say anything as I listen to her breathing become more even as she pants against my collarbone, her head resting against the side of my neck.
Unexpected Daddy: A Bad Boy Hockey Romance Page 5