He kept his gaze locked with mine as he kissed the underside of my arch and then flicked his tongue in the same place. “I love your feet,” he said, his voice gravelly and a little rough, kind of like his tongue. “They’re so fucking soft.”
And they were so fucking sensitive. Every minuscule touch had me kicking slightly in response—not to get away, just because I couldn’t stop my reaction.
He sucked my big toe into his mouth, which initiated a flood of liquid heat in my core. “Do you get pedicures, or do you paint them yourself?”
“Pedi…pedicures,” I said, panting. How was he doing this to me?
“I like that. And your shoes.” He moved his attention upward, an inch at a time, his hands and mouth traversing every bare inch of my legs.
“My house shoes?” My brain wasn’t keeping up. I was too distracted by the way his fingers were tickling the backs of my knees.
“All your shoes,” he growled. “The bright-red heels. The gold ones that show off your toes. The thigh-high boots with the buckles all over them. The blue sandals with the strappy backs.” He bent my leg back and replaced his fingers with his tongue, twirling it over the hypersensitive flesh.
I didn’t know whether to be confused or impressed by the fact that he knew so much about my shoes. At the moment, I was having enough difficulty just keeping myself from coming unglued.
By the time he reached my upper thighs, his touches had grown more insistent, his kisses more intense, and my need had reached a fever pitch the likes of which I’d never experienced before.
“Cam,” I complained, still dutifully keeping my hands where he’d told me to keep them, even though all I wanted to do was grab him and tug him until he gave in and got on top of me.
Finally, he tugged my thong down my legs and slipped a finger through my slickness. I nearly came when that same finger brushed my clit, light as a feather. My hips bucked up, and I let out this deep-seated moan, and I knew I would orgasm the second he put his mouth on me.
He didn’t, though. He slid up my body, angling himself alongside me, and stretched his arm out to the nightstand, bringing back a condom. At least one of us was still thinking, because I sure as hell wasn’t able to.
He ripped the wrapper open and put the condom over his cock, and then he came over me again, settling himself between my open thighs. “Hold on tight,” Cam said.
I didn’t know if he meant to keep holding the bed rails, or to hold on to him or what. It didn’t matter. The head of his cock was at my entrance, hot and hard and teasing me. He kissed me again, one hand between us to guide himself inside.
That moment when he pushed into me, just the head…that was when I broke. My legs clenched his hips. My sex shattered and splintered and fractured into a million pieces that dissolved. Disintegrated. Melted away.
I wasn’t aware of releasing my grip on the headboard. I wasn’t aware of wrapping my arms around Cam’s waist and grabbing his ass with both hands and pulling him to me. I wasn’t aware of anything but him being inside me, deep and steady, and the frantic pulse at the base of his throat, right where my lips had landed.
For minutes or hours, or maybe even for glorious days, he drove into me, varying his pace and his angle and the way he caressed my body. Sometimes, he whispered things in my ear, like, “You’re so beautiful when you come.” Other times, his voice was harsher when he told me things like, “If you keep scraping my back with your nails like that, I’m never going to be able to stop fucking you.”
I couldn’t say anything. The words just wouldn’t come.
Then his thrusts came faster, harder, until he stilled with a loud groan into the pillow beside my head. Almost instantly, he rolled over, drawing me on top of him. I was too exhausted to do anything but rest my head on his chest. While we both fought to recover, he kept sliding his hands up and down my back, and he kissed the top of my head and my temples.
“I didn’t hurt you?” he asked after a few minutes. “I wasn’t too rough?”
He’d been anything but rough. Every touch had been gentle, almost spiritual. I was the one who had been rough with him. I’d never lost control like that with a man. I’d never been so wild before, so animalistic in my need.
“You didn’t hurt me.”
With one hand, he tipped my chin up so I was looking at him. “The baby?”
Something else inside me shattered, only this time, it was a piece of my heart. “I’m sure the baby’s fine.”
“But do you know?” His serious eyes were back, the passion that had darkened and softened them melting away. “I didn’t think…”
“Pregnant women have sex all the time,” I said, since I didn’t know. “I’m sure everything is fine.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right,” he said, releasing my chin. I tucked my head into that space between his neck and his shoulder where it seemed to fit so perfectly, and he started stroking my back again. “But I’d still feel better if you found out for sure. When are you going to the doctor?”
With everything going on with Daddy, I hadn’t done anything about scheduling an appointment for myself yet. “Soon,” I replied.
“Okay.” His hands stilled on my back, and he fell quiet for a minute. “Go really soon. I’d ask to go with you, but I don’t want you to wait for me. So ask lots of questions. Actually, I’ll give you a list.”
“A list?” My voice almost failed me. He wanted to come with me? He had questions for my doctor?
“I have a lot of questions, Sara. I need answers.”
Something in his tone made it clear that some of those questions were intended for me, not for my doctor.
Yes, it was true that he’d told me in no uncertain terms that he intended to pursue me…but this went beyond anything I’d prepared myself for. I was pretty sure I was in over my head.
SARA’S MORNING SICKNESS the next day was even worse than it had been the first time I’d been around for it. Since she’d already been up and puking, I’d made her some dry toast again to calm her stomach and then hard-boiled a couple of eggs for my breakfast, hoping that I wouldn’t have to bother her with the aromas.
That didn’t pan out the way I had hoped it would. She turned green the moment I started to peel the shells, and she raced off to the bathroom. I ate my meal quickly in the hopes that the smell would dissipate. She didn’t come back for about fifteen minutes, and when she did, she still looked pale and shaky. I wished there was a way for me to take this discomfort away from her, to make her feel better. It was just one more thing that was outside my ability to control.
“I’m sorry,” I said when she sat down at the bar again and picked at her toast.
“Don’t be. I didn’t know the smell would affect me like that.”
“I know. Neither of us knew. I’m still sorry, though.” I didn’t know the first thing about pregnancy, so I made a mental note to call my mom sometime soon and pick her brain. That, plus the list of questions I was going to send with Sara to ask her doctor, might be enough to prepare me. At least more than I currently was. I had never liked to have things sprung on me at the last minute. I liked to be ready for whatever was to come.
I might talk to a few of the guys, too. Some of the ones with kids.
Buster came in through his doggy door and camped out at Sara’s feet. He’d gotten over being shut out of the bedroom quick enough this morning, at least as far as she was concerned. He still hadn’t completely forgiven me. He’d been giving me the evil eye all morning, as though I’d broken his heart. Now I was about to leave for a few days. He might not let me off the hook for a while.
Sara pushed her saucer away with a grimace. “You probably need to head out for practice soon, don’t you?” She wouldn’t look at me when she said it. Was she having second thoughts about sleeping with me? I studied her, but her face was expressionless, leaving me no answers to my questions.
Maybe I’d rushed her, pushed her for too much, too soon. Hell, maybe I’d rushed myself, even.
That was becoming a habit, and one that I needed to break.
I glanced at the clock on the microwave. It was already after eight. “Yeah, I’ll have to head out soon.” I finished loading all of my breakfast dishes into the dishwasher and closed the door.
A suspension didn’t mean I was off the hook for the rest of my responsibilities to the team. I still had to participate in every practice and stay late on the ice in order to keep myself in game shape. I had to travel with the team. I had to attend every game and watch from the press box. I had to be involved in all of the team meetings.
After my phone call with the League this afternoon, I’d had a long talk with Jim, Bergy, and Hammer. They were all adamant that I still had a big role to play with the team even if I couldn’t be out there on the ice.
“The boys all feel a lot calmer when you’re around,” Bergy said. “Most of these guys haven’t ever seen a lick of playoff action, at least at the NHL level—”
“Neither have I,” I interrupted.
“Doesn’t matter,” Hammer said. “You still calm them down. So many of them are so young. When you’re around, they all just seem to play their game and not let anything get under their skin.”
Jim nodded and leaned in, forming his hands into a steeple in front of him. “Exactly. You’re a leader on this team, Jonny. You might not have a letter on your chest, but every guy in that room hangs on every word out of your mouth. They value what you have to say.”
“I almost never say anything, though.”
“But when you do, they all sit up a little straighter, and they listen a little harder.” Bergy narrowed his eyes on me. “You haven’t noticed that? You should pay attention next time you do speak up. You command a lot of respect in that room.”
“And we’re already without Scotty,” Hammer added. “Maybe you can’t play, but you can still help us out. The coaches, in particular. We need you to help keep all the boys focused on the task that’s in front of us.”
Those guys seemed to think a lot more of me than I did. Especially right now. They were forgetting the fact that the only reason we were missing our head coach was because of something I’d done.
All of that made it seem even crazier that I’d gotten involved with Sara at a time like this. Would a guy who had clearly lost his mind—to the point that he was screwing the head coach’s pregnant daughter after he’d caused the man to have a heart attack—fit the impression the coaches and GM had of me? I doubted it. If they knew the whole story, their opinions would change, and fast.
I’d done what I’d done, though, and I couldn’t go back in time and undo anything—even if I wanted to. This thing with Sara, whatever it was, I didn’t want to undo…even if I had jumped the gun.
I walked around the bar to the back door, ignoring Buster’s excited yapping. He’d just fucking come in from outside, and he had his own fucking door he could use any time he wanted. I wasn’t opening the big door for him again right now. All I intended to do was grab a spare key from the magnetic strip I had hanging on the wall there.
I set it down on the bar next to Sara’s saucer of barely eaten toast.
She spun on her barstool, her eyebrow cocked in question. “What’s this?”
“I’ve got to fly out with the team this afternoon.”
“I know that.” She slid the key closer to me, eyeing it like it might jump up and bite her. “If you think I’m going to move in with you… If that’s your idea of pursuing—”
“I don’t want you to have to be alone in your house. It’s still going to be a while until your dad’s out of the hospital.” Fuck, I kept screwing everything up with her. She already had too much to deal with, and I just kept adding more to her pile. “I’m not asking you to move in. Just thinking you might want somewhere else to stay for a while.”
“I can go stay with Dana if I can’t handle being at my house. Since you boys are all leaving, she’ll be alone. Zee won’t care.”
That might be the better option, anyway, because at least she wouldn’t be alone. I didn’t like the thought of her getting lonely, and while Buster obviously adored her, he wasn’t the same as a human connection. Still…I wanted her to have the option.
“Just take the key, Sara. Even if you don’t use it.”
Buster barked, as if he understood what was going on.
“He might need some company,” I said, in case that might sway her.
She scowled, but she added it to her keychain.
I threw out the rest of her toast because it didn’t seem like she was going to be able to eat any more of it, and I added her saucer to the dishwasher. Since I wouldn’t be home for several days, and I didn’t know if Sara would take me up on staying at my house or not, I added some detergent to it and turned it on even though it wasn’t full. Then I headed upstairs so I could pack for the road.
When I came back downstairs with my suitcase, she was on the couch with Buster curled up on her lap. She’d put that gold nightgown on again when we got up this morning, which, now that I’d seen and touched and held all that was underneath it, only made her more beautiful.
She’d let me hold her all night. I’d never done that before with any of the women I’d dated. Typically, after sex, either she would go home or I would go home. Sara was the only woman I’d ever shared my bed with that way. The only one who had ever stayed and cuddled and let me get the sense of what the future might be like. She was the only one that had ever really mattered, and seemingly out of nowhere, she mattered to me more than I was prepared for.
I set my bag by the front door and shoved my hands into my pockets. “I have to go.” I wanted to kiss her first. I wanted to pull her into my arms and promise her that everything would be all right, that I would take care of everything so she wouldn’t have to worry. I couldn’t promise her that, though. No one could. How could I make everything all right when so much of it had to do with things like Scotty’s heart and the baby growing inside her?
“Okay,” she said flatly.
“I’ll call you. Every night.” Just to hear her voice. “And I’ll text you.”
She nodded.
“Will you let me know what’s going on with your dad? Keep me updated?” Knowing all of that might be the only thing she would give me to let me know how she was, at least if the way she was acting this morning was an indication of where things stood between us.
Sara shrugged. “I’ll try.”
At least she hadn’t said no.
I nodded. “All right. I have to go.”
Her head shot up, and the ghost of a smile was trying to make its way to her lips. “You already said that.”
She was right. I had. Talking, conversation—those had never been among my strengths. “Yeah,” I said, taking my hands out of my pockets and grabbing the handle of my carry-on bag. “All right, then. I’ll talk to you soon.” I wanted to leave it with that and not with good-bye. I opened the door and headed out to my truck.
I couldn’t leave things like that between us, though. It didn’t feel right.
I put my bag in the passenger seat and headed back inside. Her eyes shot wide when I came through the door. They were all wet, as though she was about to start crying. Fucking hell, I couldn’t seem to go a day without making her fucking cry.
I crossed over to her, shoved Buster out of the way, and straddled her hips, slanting her against the back of the couch and taking her face in both my hands. She gasped, and I slid the tip of my thumb between her lips, pulling the bottom one down.
“I couldn’t leave without one more kiss.”
“Oh,” she said, but it was mainly just a puff of hot breath escaping her.
Her eyes stayed locked with mine, and her hands grasped my ribs, and I could feel her shaking. Or maybe that was me.
I kissed the bridge of her nose and the corners of her eyes and the sensitive space under her chin. When my lips met hers, she was open and war
m, and she let me take the kiss as deep as I wanted. Then she deepened it further. She slid her hands up my chest and grabbed on around my neck, and she angled her head, her tongue swirling and stroking mine until we were both panting and needy.
When I finally pulled back so we could breathe again, I kissed her face all over. Lingering. Trying to make it last.
“Cam?” Her voice was as shaky as I felt.
I kissed the backs of her eyelids. “Yeah?”
“You have to go.”
“I know.” After a dozen more kisses, I finally tore myself away.
Buster immediately got back on her lap and barked at me with an annoyed look in his eyes. I forced myself to cross the room to the front door. Then I walked out and got in my truck before I couldn’t find it in me to go.
AFTER PRACTICE AND lunch with the boys at Amani’s, a family-style Italian place that had been our go-to restaurant since before I’d made the team, there was just enough time left for me to make a trip to the hospital.
Quite a few of the guys were using that time to go say goodbye to their wives or girlfriends. A few of them—the younger, single guys like Jamie Babcock, better known as Babs, and Ray “Razor” Chambers—went home to pack, since they hadn’t bothered to do that in advance. Babs probably would have preferred to spend that time with Katie Weber—Webs’s daughter and the girl Babs wanted to be dating—but she had a chemo treatment scheduled. She never wanted him around for those or immediately after, since she usually got sick from them.
There was some pretty heavy shit on my mind, though. Heavy enough that I had to confront it before we left.
Scotty was still in the ICU, but the hospital staff agreed to let me go in and talk to him for a few minutes. He didn’t look good when I went into his room—pale and pasty, not robust and red-faced like I was used to seeing from him. He pushed a button on his bed remote and raised himself up a little when I came in.
“I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re here,” he said. It seemed odd to hear him talking in a normal voice, not yelling. He always yelled at me. And he wouldn’t be so glad in a minute. Not once I’d told him what I’d come here to say. And then, he’d probably start yelling at me again.
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