Coasting (Gold Hockey Book 8)

by Elise Faber

  Yup. He’d said orgasms. As in plural.

  And when he slid down her body to take the sensitive bud of one nipple into his mouth, fingers slipping between her thighs, instantly finding her clit and settling into a rhythm that had her catapulting up the edge, she knew he’d make good on his promise.

  He switched breasts, rolling her other nipple between thumb and forefinger.

  That, paired with the circling pressure on her clit, already had her scarily close to the edge.

  “Coop!” she gasped when he nipped the underside of her breast, but then his mouth was sliding down, his fingers continuing their dance. Only then, his tongue joined the mix.

  And that was it.

  One flick of it against her clit, one finger slipping inside . . . and she exploded, his name on her lips. He saw her through the peak, licking and sucking and coaxing her down the other side.

  Lazily, she slit her lids open.

  Coop was poised over her, eyes molten, jaw hard . . . so fucking beautiful it took her breath away.

  He reached to the side, grabbed his pants, and extracted a condom.

  She smiled, murmured, “Don’t think you need that, baby.” His eyes shot to hers. “I can’t get more pregnant.”

  “You can still get diseases,” he said, voice rasping.

  “I’m clean,” she said, propping herself up on her elbows again. “And I’m guessing you know your status since the team regularly tests everyone.”

  His eyes dropped to her breasts and she had to say, she liked those things.

  “I’m clean, too,” he said, hands rubbing up and down her sides. “But the last test was three months ago.”

  “Have you slept with anyone else since then?”

  “No—”

  She reached for his cock, tugging it free of the material of his boxer briefs. “Well then. Inside, please.”

  “Cal—”

  Lifting her hips, she brushed her wet pussy against him.

  And that was it.

  The leash snapped.

  Coop became a flurry of movement, body dropping to hers, her hand trapped between them, still wrapped around his cock, as he kissed and stroked and teased every part of her that he could reach. One moment his mouth was on hers, then he was sucking deeply at her nipples then he was nipping at her collarbone, her jaw, her throat.

  Moisture pooled between her legs.

  Desire made her vision hazy.

  Need made her limbs shake.

  Coop’s cock pulsing in her hand made her realize she could solve both their problems. A shift of her waist, an angling of her hips and—

  Fucking nirvana.

  He was big, stretching her as just the head slipped inside then stretching her more when he groaned and thrust deep.

  “Baby,” he growled, nipping at her jaw. “I was trying—”

  She turned and nipped his jaw. “Shut up and fuck me.”

  He shut up.

  He fucked her.

  Hard and deep and fast, he pounded into her, quickly winding her higher and higher and higher until she hovered just on the edge once more. Then he slowed. Then he paused. Her lips parted on a protest, breaths coming in sharp gasps.

  “I love you.”

  Tears. As in, the way he said that, how he held himself frozen in place, his cock seated deep, his gaze intense, made tears fill her eyes.

  She lifted her head and he got the message, kissing her again, then kissing away the tears when they escaped.

  “And I’m not leaving,” he growled, pulling out and thrusting back in.

  She nodded. “I know.”

  “Never.” Another thrust—one that took her dangerously close to the edge and left her moaning. “Never. Gonna. Leave. You. Calle.”

  More delicious movement. More moaning on her part.

  But she did manage to gasp out, “I know, honey.”

  It was enough because his lips found hers, his rumbled, “Good,” vibrating through her, and this time, he didn’t stop until she tumbled over the edge, until with three more strokes he followed directly behind her.

  She didn’t hit dirt though.

  Instead, Coop took her into his arms and held her as they both slowly wound their way down. And when she emerged from the haze of pleasure, she knew he’d made it his job to always be there to do the same.

  “I love you,” she murmured, letting her eyes slide closed.

  Because for the first time in her life, she felt safe in a man’s arms.

  And she was planning on staying there.

  “Oh my God!” Mandy shrieked and threw her arms around Calle a week later. “You’re pregnant! That’s amazing!”

  Calle smiled, hugging her back, before retreating to sit on the edge of the table.

  “Can I?” Mandy shook her head, stopping herself from reaching out. “I’m sorry, I always hated when people touched my belly without permission.”

  Calle laughed, taking Mandy’s hand and placing it on her abdomen.

  Those eight pounds had turned into a tiny baby bump to go along with her larger boobs.

  She’d already decided she liked the bump better.

  The boobs were annoying.

  Her sports bras didn’t fit, they kept getting in the way, and Coop couldn’t keep his hands off them.

  Though, in fairness, that last one wasn’t the annoying part.

  Mandy sighed. “Baby bumps are the best.” She glanced down in the direction of her own abdomen. “Though I wish the whole bump thing would go away after the baby comes. My stomach will never be the same.”

  An arm slipped around Mandy’s waist and Blane tugged her back against his chest. “I happen to like you just the way you are.”

  “Just like?” Mandy pouted.

  He grinned and kissed her temple. “Why are you talking about your beautiful, gorgeously sexy body with my coach?”

  “Because that one’s”—Mandy pointed at Calle—“body is about to be ruined, too.”

  “Gee, thanks,” Calle muttered.

  Blane glanced at her, jaw dropping open.

  “Also, seriously, you don’t have to sound so gleeful about it,” Calle continued her muttering, holding her breath as she waited for Blane’s reaction. There was a reason she’d chosen to tell Mandy—knowing it would subsequently get to Blane—at this moment. The PT Suite was empty, and Mandy was nice.

  She wouldn’t judge.

  Calle wasn’t sure Blane would be the same.

  “I have to be gleeful,” Mandy cried. “Have you seen Monique?”—a former model and the wife of their former goalie—“she looked better after she had Mirabel than before. She’s a freak of nature, and I’m not going to ever have a flat—”

  Blane kissed her.

  Calle had to give Coop props for picking up that habit. It was effective in cutting off meaningless rants.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said, pulling back. “And you”—he turned to Calle—“Congrats to you and Coop.”

  “Oh,” she began, “it’s not actually—”

  A hand dropped around her shoulders, a mouth pressed to hers, cutting her off.

  Hmm.

  Maybe taking away those props.

  But then Coop gave her a taste of his delicious tongue, and Calle forgot to be annoyed.

  “I agree with Blane,” he said to Mandy after he’d broken the kiss. “You’re absolutely beautiful.” His eyes met Blane’s. “And thanks, man.”

  She blinked.

  Was he just going to pretend the baby was his?

  Her confusion must have shown on her face because he bent and whispered in her ear. “DNA doesn’t matter, sweetheart. This baby has been mine since that first appointment. And when I say I’m not leaving, I mean I’m not leaving.” A kiss to her temple. “You or the baby. You get me?”

  Heart rolling over in her chest, she nodded. “I get you.”

  “Good.” He gave her a smile that sent her pulse sky high. The last time he’d worn it, his face had been between her thighs and
he’d just made her come with his tongue. “Let’s get you to your appointment.” He held out a hand, helped her down from the table, then whispered in her ear again. “Because after that, I’m getting you home so that I can figure out what just went through your head.”

  Unable to stop herself, she rose on tiptoe, put her mouth to his ear, and told him.

  His fingers spasmed on her hips.

  His groan was barely audible.

  Then he grinned again.

  And she knew he’d make good on another of his promises.

  “No, I couldn’t,” she said, a week later.

  Coop held out the other half of his sandwich—her favorite grilled cheese from Sam and Cheese—because they’d stopped at the food stand that evening after her twenty-week ultrasound and picked up food to go. Everything looked good, though they’d need to get a repeat image in a few weeks because the placenta appeared to be growing a little lower than ideal. And since the baby hadn’t cooperated and they hadn’t been able to tell the gender, Calle was looking forward to another ultrasound to hopefully find out.

  And another chance for her to watch Coop’s face as he stared at the screen.

  Another chance for her heart to expand.

  “Your expression says differently,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead and handing over the other half to his sandwich. She took it, because she really was ravenous and, aside from the eight-pound gain a month ago, she hadn’t gained more in the time since. Dr. Holdings said that while she shouldn’t go crazy, she shouldn’t worry, that sometimes women gain in peaks and valleys.

  “Thanks,” she said around the bite of deliciousness.

  “I’m ready for dessert, anyway,” he told her and frowned, leaning back into her couch and picking up his cell. “I’ll DoorDash something. We should have picked up something at the outdoor market.”

  She snagged his cell from him, a call from his mom the reason she’d been able to sneak the brown bag back to her condo, and handed it over.

  She’d bought him more brownies. More cheesecake-swirled brownies.

  Because he needed her to know the little things, too.

  That she’d been taking the time to pay attention.

  His favorite color was turquoise. He loved cheese. He had a sweet tooth. He was obsessed with a certain brand of cinnamon gum. He . . . listened to historical romance audiobooks on his phone.

  Yeah.

  That one had shocked her, too, when she’d accidentally stumbled upon the secret on their most recent plane ride.

  Coop had fallen asleep mid-flight from Chicago. She’d reached to pause his podcast—or what he’d told her he was listening to—so he wouldn’t lose his place, and she’d discovered his deep, dark secret.

  A secret she was now sworn to keep, under the pain of no more orgasms.

  A secret she planned to keep.

  But a secret she had also filed away to do something with later. Like once she’d had the baby and her stomach returned to some semblance of flat and she could rent one of those killer historical dresses and let Coop ravish her in it.

  Yeah, something like that.

  For now, she was sticking with brownies and gum and cheesecake, and anything else she could discover.

  Because she wanted him to feel as special as he made her feel.

  Because he was different from her father, and their relationship was different from her parents’.

  They each wanted to make the other person happy.

  Coop grinned at her when he opened the bag and peeked inside, looping an arm around her neck and drawing her in and slanting his mouth over hers.

  “Thanks, baby.”

  That alone made her heart grow.

  And so, she wasn’t going to stop finding ways to make Coop happy.

  Just as she knew he was going to do the same for her.

  “Let me get this straight,” Coop’s mom, Doreen, said in a clipped tone. “She’s pregnant. It’s not yours.”

  Yeah, her expression pretty much said it all.

  Calle should have come prepared to this dinner, should have remembered that while she’d had a few months to get used to the idea of Coop being there for her and her baby, his parents hadn’t.

  She’d made him promise to tell his family the truth, not wanting a big secret, especially when the baby wasn’t going to come out looking like Coop. It might not be the team or a random stranger’s business to know that fact, but she’d figured their families should know the situation and be prepared for it.

  But she hadn’t really processed that the situation might not reflect well on her.

  Of course, it wouldn’t.

  Shit.

  She and Coop had spent a picture-perfect month together, and every day seemed better than the last. So, she hadn’t really thought twice about meeting Coop’s parents when he’d asked her. Yes, she knew they’d technically met, but it wasn’t like this. She’d been a coach meeting her player’s family, not a pregnant girlfriend attempting to survive the gauntlet of parental glaring.

  Or, at least, Doreen was glaring.

  She bit her lip, turned to glance at Coop’s dad, Daniel. He stared back at her stonily. Double shit. He was glaring, too. “I’m—”

  “It’s mine,” Coop said, cutting her off before she could tell his parents that he was under no financial or custodial obligation. That the baby was hers and hers alone, and while their relationship had been almost idyllic and she didn’t want him to ever leave, she also wouldn’t stop him from going.

  “It’s—” Doreen began again.

  “The baby is mine,” he said, tone not leaving room for negotiation. “I’ve been there for every appointment. I held back Calle’s hair when she got sick, I’ve made the taco and Oreo shake runs at three A.M., I’ve watched the baby grow from the outside as her belly grows and from the inside as the pictures on the ultrasounds change.” He slid his arm around her waist and hauled her against his side, keeping her there when she’d been trying to be respectful of his parents and keep a little space between them. Especially when the urge to jump his bones only seemed to increase the longer they were together.

  Hormones?

  Coop?

  Still definitely Coop.

  But his parents didn’t get that. All they knew was a woman who potentially had power over him was pregnant from another man and might be trapping their son—

  “I have sole parental rights,” she blurted when it looked like Doreen was going to say something else. “Coop knows he has an out. He knows he just has to say the word, and he can leave.”

  She felt Coop’s angry gaze on her face but kept talking.

  “I wouldn’t ever trap him or hurt his career. I love him.” She cleared her throat. “He knows he can go—”

  “Nothing is ever that simple, darlin’,” Daniel said. “Coop’s involved and an innocent will be involved. It’s not so easy to just up and leave.”

  Coop’s dad had spoken gently, so she knew he didn’t mean it as a blow.

  But it still felt like one anyway.

  Her eyes filled with tears, stinging fuckers she tried to blink back and quickly failed at doing so. They dripped down her cheeks, dripping off her jaw. “I-I’m s-sorry,” she sobbed. “Th-this is-isn’t a ma-manipulation. I-I don’t even kn-know why I’m crying—”

  Embarrassed, she broke off, hands coming over her face.

  But Coop pulled them away and turned her into his chest, holding her tight, then casually announced as she cried like a lunatic on his chest, “Calle’s dad was a real asshole.”

  And then he kept talking, his voice gentle as gave a brief overview of her dad’s asshole tendencies. Probably, she should have been upset that he was telling his parents, but she couldn’t really be mad. It wasn’t a state secret, and she was done being ashamed about it. Frankly, she was too much of a sobbing mess to gain control of herself enough to explain anyway.

  After a few minutes, she managed to get control of herself and sniffed, wiping her face o
n his T-shirt before she pushed against his hold.

  “What Coop said is the truth,” she said, shifting to face his parents when he didn’t let her go. “My dad wasn’t a good person. But that also means I understand the stakes of him being involved. How important it is to all of us.” She rested a hand on her belly. “Also, I’m sorry for the tears. I’m not normally like this, crying at the stupidest thing.”

  Doreen’s face had softened slightly. “I cried when I was pregnant, too.”

  Calle grimaced. “Did it make you feel as ridiculous then as I do now?”

  Daniel chuckled and Calle swiped her arm across her face. “I’m sorry—”

  “Stop apologizing,” Coop growled.

  “I’m—” She broke off, steadied herself. “I fought against my attraction to Coop for two years, knowing that I would never do anything to put his job at risk. Then I fought him when my car broke down and he insisted on driving me to my first appointment. Then I fought him when he slowly wore me down with all the little things—holding back my hair when I lost my cookies, bringing me saltines and ginger ale afterward, and so many other thoughtful, small things that showed me he paid attention and he cared.”

  She turned and looked up at Coop, wanting him to know how much that meant. “I fought him until I knew he wasn’t like my dad. I fought him until I couldn’t fight him any longer.”

  He cupped her cheek, and he stared down at her, eyes intent. “And she still made me promise that I’d walk away without a second thought if it wasn’t working.” His gaze left hers, moved to his parents. “As though I hadn’t already made my decision that I wasn’t ever going to leave before I left that ginger ale in her office.”

  Silence.

  Then Doreen smiled. “Just like your father.”

  Daniel stood and clapped Coop on the shoulder. “Can’t fault you, son. She’s like your mother. Too precious to give up.”

  And cue more tears.

  This time however, Doreen shooed Coop away, ordering him and Daniel to pick up takeout, and then wrapped Calle in her arms and gave her the best Mom Hug ever.

  “Shh, honey,” she murmured into Calle’s hair. “You never had a chance, did you?”

  “No,” Calle said. “I don’t think I did. And thank you for being kind,” she murmured. “I get why you wouldn’t want Coop involved with me.”