Coasting (Gold Hockey Book 8)

by Elise Faber

  “You’re not thanking me for the cake,” he said.

  Her face was way too serious for something as simple as a thank you for a piece of cake or a jar of peanut butter, even a really big one.

  A sigh. “No, I’m not. It’s—” She faltered for a moment, but he gave her that moment, somehow instinctively knowing that what she was going to tell him was big, something that would make a lot of the pieces come together.

  So, he waited, put pushy to the side for the moment.

  He gave her that time.

  And what she told him made him glad he did it.

  “I know we’ve had this weird mix of intimacy and barely knowing each other,” she said hurriedly. “When you said you’d spent the last two years getting to know me even though I purposely made sure to keep my distance, I realized that you were right. Being on a team like this, being in close quarters, our lives were bound to overlap in some ways. It was stupid of me to think they wouldn’t, after spending a lifetime on teams, after experiencing that overlap time and again. It was really fucking too stupid to think that just because I was pretending to be indifferent, I actually was.”

  A breath.

  “That overlap is the same reason I know Max is obsessed with Skylanders and that Brit loves all boy bands, including for some godawful reason, Hansen.” Her lips curved, but then her eyes went serious. “It’s why I know Brayden”—Max’s son—“just changed his favorite color to rainbow and that Mandy and Blane’s daughter is teething and not sleeping well.” She touched his chest lightly. “It’s also why I know you, Coop. Why I know about your clean car and your obsession for all things cheese. But it’s more than that, too. Because I also know you always felt a little like an outsider, not because the older guys deliberately left you out, but because you’re younger, yet an old soul and so don’t really connect well to younger, single guys or the older ones with families.”

  Coop’s throat was tight and fuck him, his eyes actually stung.

  He knew he’d been paying attention, but he hadn’t realized that Calle had also been doing the same. Even though she’d been hurt by that asshole Jason, even though something about her past that she hadn’t felt safe enough to share had scarred her, she’d still been paying attention.

  “I know that, because growing up, I felt the same. Like I didn’t belong at home”—her expression went sad—“but hockey gave me the space to find my niche . . . and it led me to you. And I’m so damned scared all the time, scared that you’ll weave yourself so deeply into my life and then leave, a-and I’m terrified that you want me now, but that one day you’re going to wake up and realize that it’s not me you want—” She broke off, chest rising and falling, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes. “And I don’t want you to ever feel trapped.”

  Coop was quiet for a long moment, waiting in case she needed to say more, but when she didn’t, he carefully wove his arms around her and tugged her into his lap. Brushing back the hair on her face, he asked, “Why would I feel trapped?”

  No answer, aside from a long sniff, a hand dashing away tears.

  “Baby, I’m the one who’s pushed for this.”

  Her chin dropped to her chest, but then she inhaled and exhaled deeply. “So did my dad.”

  “What?”

  “My dad pursued my mom, pursued her until she finally gave in and then he resented her when she got pregnant.” She made a face. “Unfortunately, not enough to leave. Instead, he married her, made two more kids in quick succession, and then set about making our lives miserable.”

  Aw, fuck. “Baby.”

  “He was a miserable son of a bitch, but my mom was great, even though it was fucking painful to see her happiness chipped away by him over the years. She tried so hard and . . . nothing she ever did or said mattered.”

  His heart fucking ached, but he couldn’t take away her pain, couldn’t make the past not happen. He could, however, listen.

  “I think I always knew I was the reason for his unhappiness,” she said quietly. “I think that’s why I tried so hard. His favorite sport was hockey and I vowed to be the best player there was.” She shrugged, mouth turned up in a rueful smile. “Clearly, that didn’t happen, but I was at least able to eventually put that all aside and achieve my own goals, to find my love for the game. But it wasn’t just hockey, I spent my whole childhood being like my mom, trying to please him, desperate for him to be proud and—” A tear slipped out. “He wasn’t able to be that person for me.”

  Fury was whipping through him as he wiped the glistening drop away.

  “What he was, was a fucking asshole,” Coop snapped then had to force himself to calm his tone. “You figured out how to be a good person for yourself, baby. You did it without him. Made your own way, and you’re really fucking incredible for doing it.”

  “I’m just—”

  “Insanely smart? Kind? Sassy in a way that makes me want to kiss the sharpness right out of your words and taste that tartness on my tongue?”

  Her head started to shake.

  He gave in to what he’d been resisting for long moments.

  Coop kissed the woman he loved. He kissed her until she melted against him. He kissed her so thoroughly that he barely noticed Richie coming in to collect the discarded equipment, barely heard Brit’s broken-off exclamation when she strode back into the room then quickly left.

  He could kiss Calle through a hurricane, through a sandstorm, through a—

  She pushed lightly at his chest and he lifted his head, stroking his thumb lightly over her lips.

  “Why today?” he asked. “Why tell me all of this today?”

  Her brows drew together in question. “What?”

  “I guess I’m asking . . . what changed? Why aren’t you scared anymore?”

  He’d been expecting a long, drawn-out courtship, winning her over by millimeters, but today she’d just nonchalantly opened the door wide.

  “Oh, I’m more scared than I’ve ever been in my life.” She lifted a finger when he started to reply, a reply he bit back because she smiled up at him, eyes reddened from tears, but so warm that he felt that warmth soak into him.

  She was more beautiful in that moment than he’d ever seen her, and words simply wouldn’t come.

  Hers were better anyway.

  Especially when she leaned in, so their lips were almost touching. “Because of that stupid jar of peanut butter. I looked at it, at the red bow, and realized that you’re nothing like my dad. He might have pursued my mom, but he never ever took the time to really get to know her.” She brushed her lips over his. “He didn’t even know her favorite color after having been married for twenty-six years.”

  “That’s . . . “

  “Classic asshole, which my dad perfected.”

  Yeah, he seemed to have done that one thing—and only that thing—really well. Fuck, to think the man missed out on the absolute wonderfulness that was Calle.

  Idiot.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked, fingers running lightly up and down the outside of his arms. She hadn’t made to move off his lap and he wasn’t ready to let her go, not when she felt so good there.

  So, he told her. “That your dad is a fucking asshole.”

  Chuckles against his lips then drifting through the fabric of his shirt, soaking into his skin when she rested her forehead on his shoulder.

  “You’re right.”

  He threaded his fingers in her ponytail and gently lifted her head. “Where are they now?”

  “Both gone,” she said, eyes sad. “Mom to cancer and my dad just kind of faded away afterward. My sister lives in New York, and my brother moved to Germany with his partner.”

  “You’re on the West Coast all alone.”

  “Yes.” She stood up and reached for his hand, squeezing it lightly. “Only today, I realized that I wasn’t alone.” She stared into his eyes, telling him without words that he’d made her feel that way.

  “Baby.”

  Then she gave hi
m the words.

  “Because I realized that I had you.” His heart pulsed when she squeezed again.

  “Calle.”

  “I love you, Coop.”

  “Baby.”

  She smiled. “I made a decision when I saw that silly jar of peanut butter in the hall. I realized I had a man who knew me, who cared enough about me to discover all the little details about the things I prefer. The one who took me to my doctor’s appointment and got teary-eyed when he heard my baby’s heartbeat when he wasn’t even the father.” Her hand lifted to his jaw. “So, I decided I was going to stop being afraid. I decided I was going to keep you and pray that you’d want to keep me, too.”

  “Cal—”

  She opened her mouth, and he decided he’d had enough words.

  Coop tugged her against his chest, banding his arms around her and holding her tight. “I’m really pissed . . . you beat me to saying ‘I love you,’ first.”

  Her expression had clouded when he’d begun the sentence.

  By the end, she was grinning up at him. Then she buffed her knuckles on her chest. “You know what they say about being first,” she teased. “That second place is just the first loser.”

  He snorted.

  “Well, I’m happy to lose to you, sweetheart.” He bent so their lips were close again. “Especially if it means that I get to kiss you whenever I want.”

  She wound her arms around his neck. “I can live with that.”

  Coop closed the distance between their mouths and took her at her word.

  Sixteen

  Calle

  Truth be told, she managed to make more than a dent in that jar of peanut butter before she boarded the return flight home.

  Also, the truth had come out.

  The team knew she and Coop were together, along with the board and the rest of the coaching staff . . . and the media.

  But luckily for her, Brit and Stefan had paved the way and while there were plenty of opinions shared on the hockey blogs, the coverage had been minimal and their “love affair” had been quickly eclipsed by the unexpected divorce of a famous A-list couple.

  In the locker room and on the ice, however, the chirps hadn’t disappeared quite so quickly.

  The team teased each other relentlessly on any given day and she and Coop were providing plenty of new material, especially because the gifts hadn’t stopped.

  The bushel of apples placed outside the office she’d been using for the away game by Max when she’d been distracted and after which she’d consumed all five pounds of them . . . along with the peanut butter.

  Then when she got back to her condo after the road trip, a courier had brought her a copy of a book she was looking for, one that didn’t come in eBook and could only be special ordered. A book she’d mentioned barely in passing.

  Then more treats over the last two days.

  The man just didn’t stop.

  Not that she wanted him to.

  Especially because tonight they were going on a date. A real one that she was going to get dressed for because she’d ordered some maternity clothes online and they didn’t look too bad—especially the jeans and sparkly tank top that gave her serious cleavage

  The puking had stopped.

  Her boobage had increased.

  The man was getting lucky.

  He’d more than earned it, and she’d found that, along with having boobs that touched for the first time in her life, her sex drive was off the charts.

  Maybe it was pregnancy hormones.

  Maybe it was Coop.

  Hell, who was she kidding. It was most definitely Coop.

  Calle pulled up the jeans, glad the elastic on the waist meant she could easily button them, and then slipped into the tank top. A brush through her hair, a quick smoky eye a teammate had taught her long ago, and a glance down to ensure her new boobs had the proper amount of containment—that being not too much as to inadvertently flash everyone in the vicinity, but enough that Coop’s eyes would bug out of his head when he saw her.

  The doorbell rang, and she hurried to answer it.

  Coop was on the other side.

  His eyes bugged.

  She grinned, heart rolling over in her chest. “See?” she said. “I’m remembering to lock my doors nowadays.”

  He crowded into her, pulling her into his arms and then bending to press his lips to hers, kissing her without preamble. She was really glad she hadn’t bothered with lipstick. It would have been a mess—

  His tongue slid inside her mouth, dancing with hers and just like that, she was ready.

  She tugged him, trying to wrestle the man who outweighed her by a good forty pounds through her door with all of the success as someone attempting to wrestle an elephant.

  Or maybe a camel.

  Or—

  He lifted his head. “Is there a problem?”

  Her chest rose and fell rapidly. “No. I want you inside. Now,” she added when another tug didn’t move him.

  A flash of white, lips she really loved kissing turning up at the edges.

  “We’re going to dinner,” he reminded her.

  “Not anymore,” she declared . . . and yes, it was a declaration. An imperious one at that.

  “Calle—”

  “Coop,” she said. “We have a night off. We’re together. There aren’t any teammates to come barging through the door, and we don’t have a game tonight or practice tomorrow. We have twenty-four hours, and I want to spend them just with you.”

  “But you got dressed up—”

  Another tug and this time he let her pull him through the front door. “I got dressed up for you, silly man. Because I wanted you to take one look at me and get hard. Because I’ve been dreaming about you kissing more than my lips, and I can’t go another night without knowing how you feel inside me.”

  Silence.

  Then he peeled her hand away from his.

  Her heart sank.

  He brought her palm down and settled it over his pelvis—correction, he settled it over the hard jut of his erection and when her fingers instinctively closed over it, he groaned and thrust into her hand, growling, “Baby.”

  “Coop,” she murmured, leaning in to kiss the base of his throat. God, she loved that spot.

  “Baby.”

  Her eyes lifted to his.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.” No hesitation. No waffling. No more wasting time on the past when she needed to enjoy the present.

  To enjoy Coop.

  He moved before the thought cleared her mind, scooping her up into his arms as though she weighed absolutely nothing.

  Then they were moving down the hall and into the bedroom.

  Then she was flat on her back with Coop sprawled out on top of her.

  “Sure?” he asked again.

  She propped her elbows beneath her and nipped his chin. “I already said I was sure.”

  “Sass.” He grinned. “I love it.” He leaned back, reaching for the hem of her top and inching under it, lightly stroking his fingers, back and forth, back and forth. Goose bumps lifted on her skin, her nerves prickled with awareness, and she was desperate for his hands to move—either up or down. In that instant, she didn’t care.

  But then he bent and nipped her chin. “And I love you.”

  God, she didn’t think she’d ever get tired of hearing those words emerge from his lips.

  Though, in that moment, she’d prefer if they’d emerge when he was naked.

  He seemed to read that thought as it ran across her mind. “I’m trying to go slow here, love. Make sure—”

  She batted his hands away and grabbed the hem of her shirt, yanking it up and over her head, tossing it to the side without bothering to see where it landed. Coop’s eyes did that thing again, not really bugging so much as slightly widening and then sparking to life with heat that threatened to scorch her skin.

  Oh. She should have probably also mentioned that she’d invested in lingerie.

  Silky
, lacy, see-through lingerie.

  Which Coop apparently enjoyed, because he unleashed a string of curse words that impressed even her, and she didn’t think there were words like that which she hadn’t heard.

  “Slow, next time,” he growled.

  She nodded. “I agree.”

  One movement had her pants off. The next had his shirt. The one after that his pants.

  And—for real—his body was insane.

  Flat abs that bore the hint of a six-pack even as he was leaning over her, pecs that were perfectly grab-able, cut biceps and triceps, forearms that made her wonder how often he’d worked his stick off the ice—

  Heh.

  “What went through your mind?” he asked, slipping a hand behind her back and undoing the clasp of her bra.

  She told him.

  He burst out laughing and then slanted his mouth across hers, all while laughing, so she felt his amusement deep inside her soul. “Fuck, if that ain’t the truth,” he said when he’d pulled away, fingers still resting against the skin of her back. “I’ve made myself come so many times over the past two years, it’s not even funny.” He pressed a kiss to her temple, her jaw. “And it was your face, your body I imagined every time.”

  He straightened, peeling off her bra and tossing it to the side. Then tugged her panties down her hips and off her feet.

  She bit her lip.

  Coop’s expression went gentle. “What?” he asked.

  A shake of her head. “It’s nothing. I—” She didn’t want to admit that she was a little self-conscious with the weight gain. That was fucking stupid—and plus, boobs!—but a part of her wished he could have seen her when her body was—

  Mouth on hers, tongue sliding deep, hands molding to her newfound curves.

  “You are, without out a doubt, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever been with,” he said, staring deep into her eyes. “Ever.”

  “I—”

  “Ever.” A beat as he thrust forward, his hard cock rubbing between her thighs and making her gasp. “Now stop arguing with me. I’m on a mission to give my woman orgasms.”

  Did he say—?

  He lifted a palm, cupped her breast, and his eyes heated further.