by Kendall Ryan
Part of me can’t believe I’m here. Dressed in a little black dress, surrounded by Seattle’s hockey elite and their plus-ones. I feel a little strange, like I’m invading a circle of friends I have no right to. Maybe it’s because these are Jason’s teammates, and their wives and fiancées. And since I’m no longer tied to Jason, I forfeited the right to be part of this group. But here they are, accepting me with kind smiles and warm hugs, and I’m grateful. I don’t feel quite so alone.
When Grant asked me to attend as his date, I gave him a confused look. Then he stammered out something about driving separately, and I assumed he meant as friends. Still, I’m glad he invited me. The gala is being put on as a benefit for domestic violence—to provide aid for the women’s shelter—and so, of course I wanted to come.
And while I totally didn’t plan on telling anyone about my pregnancy tonight, I’m kind of relieved that I did. I’m glad that my big secret is out, especially because of how gracious they all were. Of course, I didn’t miss the way some of Grant’s teammates eyes had widened in shock, looking anywhere but directly at me. Awkward moment aside, the women were all supportive—asking me about a thousand questions I didn’t have the answers to.
I guess I need to educate myself on a whole host of new topics, everything from birthing methods to vaccines to baby carriers. I had no idea becoming a mom would require an entire re-education. I figured I’d just wing it. Since Becca is pregnant too, a few months further along than I am, maybe I can lean on her for support. Lord knows I’ll need it.
When Grant and Jordie venture over to the bar to order a drink, I can’t help but notice their heads turned together, like they’re discussing something serious in low tones. I wonder if I’m the topic of conversation. That thought sends a low buzz of awareness thrumming through me.
“So, what hospital are you going to deliver at?” Becca asks, smiling sweetly at me.
“Oh, I’m not sure.” I smile back.
She nods and launches into a freaking TED talk about the different choices of hospitals in this city. Clearly, she’s done her research. I hear the word NICU and plan to Google it as soon as I get home.
As Becca chatters on, her humongous man candy of a husband stalks over and plants a kiss on the top of her head. She flashes him a sweet look and keeps right on talking.
When I’m ready to venture into the dating scene again, I’d love to have a stable, loving relationship like she’s found with Owen. I know Becca had some trauma in her past. Know she was sexually assaulted, and that together, she and Owen had to work through a lot of her intimacy issues. Elise got drunk one time and overshared.
As I gaze at Becca, glowing with her pregnancy, I know she deserves all the good things in life. And I do too. It’s just . . . I’m not in a place where I’m ready for them, if that makes sense.
I still have some healing I need to do. One thing at a time. I need to be happy on my own first, before I can give part of myself to another person. Maybe that sounds weird, but it’s the truth.
But even if I’m not ready for something serious, I am grateful for Grant’s presence in my life. Earlier, when he got me the drink I was craving—grapefruit juice—my heart squeezed inside my chest.
“Okay, enough baby talk,” Elise says dramatically, raising her brows at Becca.
“Fine.” Becca chuckles, flashing me an apologetic look. “I get carried away.”
“No worries,” I say with a smile.
My attention is grabbed by an older guy stopping at the table to talk to Grant. Grant rises from his chair and follows the man to the other side of the room, where he begins shaking hands and chatting with an older couple. I assume they’re big donors for tonight’s event, or something.
Elise’s gaze follows Grant across the room too, and I’m kind of relieved, because it means I won’t be caught ogling. He looks damn good in a classic black tuxedo. His hair is neatly combed and his defined jawline is clean-shaven without a trace of the dark stubble I’ve gotten used to.
“Damn. Grant really fills out that tux,” she murmurs under her breath.
Becca and I both chuckle.
“Grant? Oh, he’s hot as fuck,” Sara says, finally joining the conversation now that it’s no longer baby-dominated.
My gaze wanders the length of him. Powerful legs encased in his dress slacks. A tailored jacket that hugs his wide shoulders and arms before tapering at his trim waist. Adam’s apple peeking out above his shirt collar. That full mouth that I’ve fantasized about kissing more than once . . .
“He’ll definitely make some lucky girl very happy one day,” Becca says with a nod.
Elise makes a noise of agreement. “I heard he doesn’t date, though. Wonder why that is . . .”
Sara shrugs. “Not a clue. But it’s a damn shame, because a body like that was built for riding.”
The girls erupt into giggles as Sara’s fiancé, Teddy, pauses beside us, making a tsking sound.
“Hey now,” he says, scolding us, but his expression is playful.
The conversation moves on to another topic, but my gaze is still on Grant.
Grant. He’s like a caramel—hard on the outside, and gooey on the inside. And I know how hot things get when he melts . . .
20
* * *
Going Deep
Grant
Tonight’s gala has been a major success. I’ve schmoozed with donors, posed for selfies, and signed a few autographs, but I haven’t spent much time with Ana, and it’s time to rectify that. When Elise and Becca rise to go to the restroom, I reach down and pull Ana’s chair closer to mine.
“Hey, you.” I grin at her.
“Hey, stranger.” She smiles back. Maybe it’s her smile, or maybe it’s the gin and tonic, but something inside me is feeling more at ease than before.
“Haven’t seen much of you lately. How’s Hobbes holding up? I’ll bet he misses me.”
She laughs. “Oh, he totally does. You should see him come five o’clock when you usually get home from the gym. He’s beside himself when you don’t come in.”
I shake my head at the thought. Who knew I’d bond with her dog? “Everything else going okay? You haven’t been getting sick anymore, have you?”
She shakes her head. “I’ve been feeling good. Just a little tired. Which I read is normal.”
I nod. “I read that too. Your body needs the extra sleep. You’re growing a human in there.”
She sighs, a slight grin on her lips. “That’s what they tell me.”
“Did you get the vitamins I left for you?”
A smile overtakes her face. “I did. Thank you.”
As she asks me about the trip to Canada, dinner is served. I fill her in on our two not-so-exciting losses as we eat chicken and potatoes and asparagus, and the rest of the team makes small talk. I’m pleased to see Ana eat every bite on her plate. She even helps herself to an extra roll from the bread basket.
The evening passes with a silent auction, dancing, and a whole lot of sexual tension. Actually, that last one might be just me. Because earlier, when Ana danced with me, I had a hard time keeping my body from reacting. But then she smiled when Jordie cut in, dancing with him with the same polite look she’d given me during our dance.
I might have told her that we couldn’t be physical again, but right now, I’m feeling weak. If for some reason Ana decides she wants to get closer than dancing tonight, I’m not going to be strong enough to resist. I want her. And I really hope she wants that too.
When I take her hand again and nudge her toward the dance floor, she’s laughing.
“I never took you for someone who likes to dance,” she says, her brown eyes glittering at me.
I lift one shoulder. “Believe me, I’m not. You in this dress, though . . .” I give her a heated look. “Let’s just say it’s inspiring me.”
She laughs. “Stop.”
“If you like.”
Her lips twitch.
She moves her hands up to my sh
oulders, and mine settle onto the dip in her waist. I put a couple of inches between us, needing a little distance so she doesn’t feel my body’s response to hers.
As we dance together in the center of the floor, I notice a few of my teammates watching us, but I don’t care. Let them wonder. What’s happening between Ana and me is no one else’s business.
“Tonight’s been fun,” she says softly, her eyes moving from the three-piece band up to meet mine.
“It has.” I nod. “I’m glad you came.”
“Me too.”
We continue swaying together while I fill Ana in on my upcoming travel schedule. Next week I’ll be in Saint Louis and then Dallas, but this week I’m mostly home, except for a quick trip to California.
“Hobbes will be happy,” she says, brushing a piece of lint from my shoulder.
“As important as Hobbes’s happiness is to me, the reason I told you is just so you know you’re more than welcome to stay there, even while I’m gone.”
“Grant,” she says sternly.
We’ve been over this. I really do want her to feel welcome.
“I’m serious. I’m gone at least three nights a week. Ana, I want you to stay. For as long as you want. I like knowing you and Hobbes will be there when I get home.”
She softens, leaning in even closer. “I know. And you’ve been so incredible. I can’t thank you enough.”
“There’s no need to thank me.”
• • •
The rest of the evening passes in a blur, and then Ana and I are stepping out of a cab and riding the elevator up to my condo. Electricity still thrums steadily through my veins. It’s like every moment has been swamped in anticipation, every look has been heated. I don’t know if it’s just me, or if Ana feels it too.
“I had a good time tonight,” she says softly, moving inside the condo and setting her purse on the counter. Hobbes gives us a sleepy look from the couch where he’s curled up, but doesn’t move. “I guess I’d better go get out of this dress.”
But when she turns to head down the hall, my fingers catch her elbow and I lightly tug. She turns, falling into my arms, and lifts her mouth to mine. And I can’t resist for even a second longer.
Closing the distance between us, I press my lips to hers. A surprised gasp escapes Ana as I deepen our kiss. She brings her hands beneath the lapels of my jacket to touch my chest, and for a second, I’m mentally preparing for her to push me away. But she doesn’t, she just strokes the muscles in my chest and groans into my mouth.
I go from half hard to fully hard in an instant.
I held back at the gala, but now that she’s in my arms, touching me, my self-control vanishes faster than a hockey puck into an empty net.
“What do you want?” she murmurs, her mouth busy kissing a hot path along my freshly shaven jaw.
“You.”
It’s only one word, but the effect on her is instantaneous. Her hands drop to my belt buckle, which she begins tugging at in an effort to free my erection. My cock presses painfully into my zipper.
“Bedroom,” I choke out, panting, almost dizzy with need.
Ana’s only taken two steps forward before I decide I’m too impatient to wait out the ten-second journey to my bedroom, and sweep her up in my arms instead. A breathless sound pushes past her lips the second I set her feet on the floor inside my bedroom. Two seconds later, she’s stripped out of her dress and looking up at me with need-filled glittering eyes.
I brush my knuckles across the top of one of her breasts. “Take those panties off for me.”
Ana complies, pushing her fingers into the sides of her thong until it slides down her hips so she can step out of the scrap of lace.
“On the bed. Let me look at you.”
She crawls onto the bed, moving up toward my pillows and then lies back, her knees slightly parted.
Lust scrambles my brain as I move closer, leaning over her so I can kiss her sweet mouth again. Her tongue touches mine, and I groan, low in my throat. Using my thumb, I trace a slow circle around her clit while she squirms.
“Take these off,” she murmurs, her fingers dragging down my zipper to free my cock.
While I shove my pants and boxers down and kick them off, Ana works on the buttons to my shirt. My jacket is somewhere on the floor. Then we’re both naked and falling into the center of my bed together.
Ana’s delicate fist curls around my cock, and she strokes it slowly. A wave of pleasure crashes through me.
“Grant,” she says on a groan. She caresses my abs, and the muscles involuntarily clench at her touch.
“What do you want, baby?” Baby?
She doesn’t so much as blink at the endearment. “You.”
With pleasure.
I grab a condom from the drawer in my bedside table. I have no idea if we need one, or what possesses me—God knows she can’t get more pregnant. But now doesn’t seem like the time to have that conversation. And I want Ana to trust me, to know she can feel safe with me. So, condom it is. Every time. Until she tells me she wants it bare.
I suit up, and then I’m kneeling between her parted thighs, teasing her with the head of my dick. She shivers and presses her fingernails into my thigh.
“Tell me,” I murmur, reaching down to pinch and tease her nipple. “What you want.”
“Your cock.”
I grip myself in one hand and ease in slowly. I’ve read that sex during pregnancy can be challenging, that she might feel sensitive from the extra hormones. So I move in slow, steady strokes, letting Ana dictate our pace.
“More,” she says, whimpering, canting her hips up toward mine.
I don’t want to be too rough with her, and force myself to keep my pace even, no matter how badly I want to drive hard and deep.
“Harder,” she moans. “You’re not going to break me.”
With a rough caress, I hitch her thigh around my hip so I can drive in even deeper. She groans, and the sound hits me square in the chest.
My mouth finds her neck, and I leave hot, sucking kisses all over her skin. I’m trying to last, but I can’t hold out much longer. She’s reduced me to a trembling, groaning wall of pleasure.
“Need you to get there for me.” I breathe hard, rubbing her clit with my thumb. My self-control is practically nonexistent.
Her body tightens around my shaft, and I groan.
A few more pumps and she comes apart, gripping me as she falls over the edge, pleasure ripping through her sweet body. Seconds later, I follow her, emptying myself in hot waves into the condom while I gather her close.
Afterward, I pull out slowly, missing the feel of her tight heat around me almost immediately.
I climb out of bed, naked and breathing hard, only long enough to deal with the condom and wash my hands. When I return, Ana’s in the center of my bed, looking mighty comfortable.
I don’t say a word as I slip in beside her and gather her close, until she’s resting her head in the center of my chest. Her shaky breaths even out as we lie there together, and eventually my heart rate slows.
I may not know what I’m doing, but I know sex with her is incredible. The best I’ve ever had. I also know I feel things that go much deeper than friendship or mere obligation when it comes to her.
After a little while, I gather my courage and sit up. Ana does too, meeting my eyes.
She’s still naked, and the sheet is down around her hips. And as beautiful as her breasts are, that’s not the thing that catches my attention.
I can’t help but notice her flat belly, the tiny knot of her belly button, and wonder how breathtaking she’ll look with a round belly full of my baby. Knowing that the child inside her might not be mine sends all kinds of confusing feelings rushing through me.
“Grant? Do you want me to move to my own bed?” She tugs the sheet up to cover herself.
“No. I want you to stay.” I touch her shoulder, brushing my calloused fingertips over her silky skin.
“Then what is it
?”
I pause, running a hand over the stubble on my jaw. “No matter what happens, or how things turn out, I want a shot with you.”
Her chin drops, and she exhales a big breath. I know what she’s doing. She’s preparing to let me down easy. The thought stings.
“Just say it, Ana.” My tone comes out deeper than I intended, and she meets my eyes again.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t jump into another relationship. I just need a friend right now.”
A friend.
Her words are like a punch to the sternum, and there’s a sudden ache in my chest that hurts worse than when I dislocated my shoulder last season.
Life has a pretty cruel sense of irony. I’ve spent my whole adult life single, and now I have a beautiful, kind, sweet woman in my bed who might be carrying my baby, and all she wants is to be my friend.
“Just get some sleep,” I say, my throat tight, “and we can talk about it in the morning.”
She nods and settles back into the pillows.
I cover her up with the duvet and lie down beside her, holding her close. But inside, I feel hollow and raw.
Love is that thing that people write poems and songs about. An elusive, magical feeling that’s evaded me my entire adult life.
Now I’ve fallen headlong into it without my permission. And with a woman who doesn’t want the same things.
21
* * *
Bump in the Road
Ana
I’m standing before the full-length mirror in Grant’s bedroom when I hear Hobbes barking at the front door. There’s a jangling of keys and then Grant walks in, home from running errands in under an hour.
His deep, familiar voice must be as soothing to Hobbes as it is to me, because the valiant little watchdog relents immediately. In the three months I’ve lived with Grant, they’ve really become besties. I can hear the jingle of Hobbes’s collar as he inevitably rolls over to show Grant his fluffy belly. Typical.
Grant’s soft murmurs carry pleasantly down the hall before he calls out to me. “I’m back!”