When I asked Hollis to come back to my place tonight, it wasn’t for this. I wanted to show her that I’m ready, that I’m preparing.
I didn’t mean for this to happen.
She kisses me harder, almost like if she does, I’ll respond. I don’t respond because I can’t help but think of the last time she kissed me when she shouldn’t have.
I place my hands on her hips, and she takes it as a sign, pressing into me more. For just a moment, I give in, pressing her back against the nearest wall and devouring her. I slide my knee between her legs, and she moans, rubbing herself against it.
I know it’s wrong and we shouldn’t be doing this, but I can’t resist. I want to kiss her. I want to kiss her so damn badly. I have since the moment I saw her sitting at the bar the night she told me she’s pregnant. I wanted to sprint across that restaurant and pull her into my arms and make up for leaving her behind, and I’ve wanted to kiss her every day since then.
But I haven’t because that’s not what this is about right now. It’s about the baby, not us.
I wrench my mouth away and she follows, trying to kiss me again, but I hold her back firmly.
Her eyes are glassy, her breaths coming in short spurts as she blinks up at me. “What’s wrong?”
“That’s… This isn’t why I brought you here.”
“That’s sweet, really, but I’m a big girl. I want this.”
“But what if I don’t?”
Her face drops. “Is it… Is it because I’m pregnant?”
“What?! No, no. That’s not it at all. Hollis, you’re…” Incredible. Gorgeous. Courageous. “It’s not because you’re pregnant.”
She peers up at me, her eyes shiny still, but this time with unshed tears. Her chin wobbles a little as she asks, “Then what is it?”
“It’s just…” I press my forehead against hers, squeezing my eyes shut. “This is already complicated.”
“What is?”
“This…us…”
“I know.” She sighs. “I know. It’s just I…ache.”
It’s like her words are tethered to my cock because the moment they leave her lips, I’m harder than I’ve ever been before. I couldn’t stop myself if I tried.
“Please, Cameron.” She moves her hips, her eyes fluttering shut as she rocks herself against my jean-clad thigh. “Please. It doesn’t have to mean anything. I just need something. Anything.”
I can be something.
I can be anything.
“I need you.”
Three words—three words and all the excuses I had fly right out the window.
Without another word, I slam my mouth to hers, then scoop her into my arms and march us through the house. I don’t stop kissing her and I don’t stop walking until I reach my bedroom. Not even when I lay her on the bed and fit myself between her legs do I stop. I don’t stop until she’s fucking herself on my thigh and crying for release.
“More,” she begs. “I need more. Please.”
I kiss my way down her throat and sit back, lifting her along with me. As much as I love seeing her wear my number, I need to see her even more. I peel her t-shirt from her body and toss the material aside, gently pushing her back down. Her brown hair fans around her, her tits, which are filling out more and more, spilling from the cups of her bra.
All I can do is stare because she’s fucking gorgeous. She’s gorgeous just like this, and all I can think about is how much further she has to go and how I can’t wait to watch her grow my child.
I love the idea so much that I kiss her, thanking her with my lips in a way I don’t know how to do with my words. It’s not long before she’s rubbing herself against my thigh again, and I know if I don’t get her relief soon, she’s going to burst.
I kiss my way down her throat and past her breasts, which I promise to spend more time on later. I press kisses over her belly, promising to worship that later too, and I don’t stop until I hit the waistband of her jeans.
Then, I laugh.
“What’s so funny?” she asks, sitting up to look at what I’m seeing.
There’s a small hairband holding the button of her jeans done because her belly is too big to fit. It’s ridiculous and adorable.
“Oh,” she murmurs sheepishly. “That.”
“Yeah, that.” My shoulders shake harder.
She glowers and shoves at my shoulder. “Shut up! It’s not funny. All of my good jeans were in the wash, and I couldn’t get these to button.” She groans, then shoves me again. “Just forget it.”
She tries to wiggle off the bed, but I don’t budge that easily.
“Move,” she demands.
“No,” I say, grabbing her wrists when she starts beating on my chest. I push until her back hits the bed, then bring her arms up over her head and hold them there.
“Let me go, Lowell.”
“Oh, so I’m back to being Lowell now?”
“Yes, because you’re a jerk.”
“I am not.”
“Are too.”
“Am not. Now stop moving.”
“You are so annoying. You’re—”
I kiss the insult from her lips, and it takes all of two seconds before she’s moaning and rubbing against me again. My cock is throbbing behind the zipper of my jeans, and I think I need a release just as bad as she does.
But not yet.
She groans when I pull my mouth from hers and trace the same path from before down her neck and over her breasts and belly. This time, the only reason I stop is to undo the makeshift button on her jeans.
She shoves onto her elbows to look at me. “What are you doing?” she mutters, her voice scratchy with lust.
“Tasting you.” I peer up at her. “I can taste you, right?”
She gulps, trapping her bottom lip between her teeth with a nod.
I slide her jeans from her legs, trying not to laugh at her urgency to help me, then reposition myself between them, swiping my tongue over her before she has the chance to protest again.
“Unghhh,” she cries out, arching off the bed. “Oh god. More.”
And I oblige.
I spread her pussy with my tongue, licking and sucking and getting my fill until she’s practically fucking my face. Her hands crash into my hair, holding me to her as she has her way with me, and I’ve never been so happy to be used in my entire life. Her legs begin to shake, and I know she’s close.
I keep the same pressure applied with my tongue as I slowly slide two fingers inside of her. I hook them up, and that’s all it takes.
“Cameron…” she moans, her legs shaking around my head as she comes apart.
I wait for her legs to stop trembling before I slip my fingers out of her and kiss my way back up her body. She’s coated in a light sheen of sweat, and her hair is a mess. It reminds me of the first night we had together, and for a moment, I wish I had never walked away.
I roll until I’m on my back, dragging her along with me. She rests her head on my chest and lets out a contented sigh.
“Give me five minutes,” she promises, her words sleepy and slurred.
Those five minutes never come and neither do I, but I’ve never been more satisfied.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
Hollis puts her hands on her hips, and I try not to stare too long at the baby bump that’s becoming more and more obvious every day.
It’s not that I don’t want to stare—I really want to—but if I stare too long, I’m afraid I’ll do something like rush across her apartment and toss her up on the counter and have my way with her. Seeing my child grow inside her is doing something to me that I never expected.
I like it. A lot.
It’s why I’m over here all the damn time now and can’t remember the last time I spent more than one night in my own bed.
“You really don’t want to find out?”
“No.” She shakes her head, the loose bun on top of it bobbing around as she moves through the kitchen. “I want to be surprised. You’re more than welcome to find out, but I don’t want to know.”
“I’m surprised.”
“Why?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I just figured you had all these grandiose plans of prepping a baby room with a theme and colors and everything else.”
“I did.” I tip my head, not understanding what she’s getting at. “Before, I mean,” she elaborates. “With Thad.”
Right. Her ex. Her ex who is a huge piece of shit and who I want to punch.
“Why not now, then?”
“I…I don’t know. Maybe I’m picking up hockey superstitions or something, but since none of this is what I had planned for my life, I figured I might as well keep that going and just be surprised.”
Everything over the last few months has been so insane that I almost forgot Hollis hasn’t even been divorced for six months. I can’t imagine how she must be feeling going from happily married to divorced to pregnant by a guy she barely knows all in the span of a year.
It has to be taking a mental toll on her.
“You want to know what I think?” I ask as she sets her fresh glass of water down on the table, climbs back into her spot on the couch, and pulls her computer back into her lap.
It’s a game day for me, and sometime over the last few weeks, this has become our routine until I have to be at the rink. I come over and we lie around on the couch. Sometimes she’ll work, sometimes I’ll read, sometimes we’ll talk, but mostly it’s just about spending time together.
“What’s that?”
“You just don’t want to see if I’m right and it’s a girl.”
“Well, do you want to know what I think?”
“What’s that?” I echo.
“I think I need to pee.”
I mock gasp. “I am shocked. Shocked!”
“Always right when I sit down too.” She rolls her eyes, setting her laptop aside, then rises from the couch. She teeters a bit, and I’m on my feet in an instant to catch her.
I grip her waist, holding her steady. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” she says, “just a bit wobbly.” She points to her belly. “Still getting used to this big thing.”
“It’s not big.”
“Don’t try to placate me, Lowell. I’m big.”
“You’re not. You look just the size of a bell pepper, or a bottle of baby shampoo. Take your pick.” Her brows scrunch together at my words. “Baby sites—they’re weird.”
“Ah.” She nods, pushing away. “Be right back.”
She slowly makes her way to the bathroom, and I don’t dare sit down until she’s shut the door behind her.
I don’t like that she’s unstable, but I guess I can also understand. Her body is changing so much every single day even if she can’t always see it. It’s…well, kind of fucking amazing if you ask me.
I flop back down on the couch and nearly knock her laptop off the cushion with the force. I manage to grab it before it crashes to the floor and, in the process, wake it up.
I know I shouldn’t look. It’s a total invasion of privacy.
But I do it anyway because pulled up on the screen is an apartment, and I think that might involve me just a little bit.
Is she thinking of moving? She hasn’t mentioned it and I just forgot, has she?
I click around the page and check out the photos. It’s…fine. Not exactly what I would want to live in, but then again, I have the luxury of being picky.
It’s a two-bedroom and the rent is almost double what she’s paying here, not to mention it’s on the complete opposite side of town…and the arena, which means I’ll be farther away from her and the baby.
I don’t want to be farther away from her or the baby.
I…
Oh shit.
Does she want me to ask her to move in with me?
I like being with her. I like touching her. And I definitely like what we did last week at my house.
But that’s all different than actually being in a relationship.
I’m not sure I’m ready for that even if we are having a baby together. It’s one thing to love and care for the baby growing inside her. The baby can’t hurt me. All the baby will know is how to love me.
But Hollis…she can do so much more damage than that. I’m not sure I’m ready to give anyone that power yet.
I hear the toilet flush, then the water turn on, so I click back to the first photo and drop the laptop back where she had it. I do my very best not to look guilty when she comes out of the bathroom, pretending to scroll through something on my phone.
“Ah, so much better. For like twenty minutes, I mean.” She laughs at her own joke as she climbs back onto the couch.
I halfheartedly smile at her. She turns her attention back to her laptop.
Click.
Scroll.
Click.
Scroll.
I don’t stop watching her.
I can’t stop watching her.
She notices.
“Do you remember at Harper and Collin’s wedding when I ordered that chocolate milk and you didn’t make fun of me for it?”
“Yes.”
“And remember how Emilia came over and she and I danced?”
“Yes. That’s when I discovered you’re a liar who loves Queen.”
“Everybody loves Queen, Lowell. I’m pretty sure that’s an actual law somewhere.”
“I don’t think that’s how that works, but okay. Why are you asking about the wedding?”
“I was just wondering if you remember when you sat at the bar staring at me, watching me dance for like twenty minutes like a complete creep.”
“You knew I was watching you?”
“You’re kind of hard to ignore.” She lifts a brow. “Anyway, I just wanted you to know you’re doing it again.”
“Doing what again?”
“Staring at me like a creep.”
Fuck.
“It’s your beauty. I can’t get enough of it.”
It’s true, but it’s not the only reason I’m staring. I’m staring because I’m scared she wants more and I might not be able to give it to her.
She snorts. “I hope hockey covers your vision insurance. You clearly need your eyes checked.”
I frown. That’s the second time just today that she’s commented on her body, and I wonder if it’s because she’s embarrassed about the changes.
I sigh, then reach over and push her computer closed, stealing it right out of her hands.
“Hey! I was reading something!”
I set the laptop on the table. “What were you reading?”
“A…uh…an article! Ha!”
“Oh yeah?” I lift a challenging brow. “About what?”
“How to get away with murdering your baby daddy.”
I can’t help but grin.
Baby daddy.
Daddy.
I’m going to be a dad.
It’s the first time I’ve heard the word in reference to me, and I like it—and not in a kinky way. I’m going to be some little boy or little girl’s daddy, and I don’t think it’s fully sunk in yet. I’m not sure it will sink in until the baby is here.
It’s…scary.
And exciting too.
But mostly scary.
I shake my head, pushing away all the thoughts trying to intrude, then focus back on the task at hand: crawling across the couch until I’m lying on top of her and we’re fitted perfectly against one another.
“You can’t murder me.”
“You’re right. Collin already called dibs.”
“I can take Collin.”
“Uh, the busted lip you had a while back says otherwise.”
“No. The busted lip I had says I deserved what I got, not that I couldn’t take him.”
“Hmm. I’m betting on Collin.”
“Oh?” I ask, dropping my head and running my nose along her jawline, taking in the scent that’s completely her. “Is that so?”
“Mmm”—she moans when I run my tongue over the column of her neck, unable to stop myself from tasting her—“hmm. That’s s-so.”
I chuckle against her, loving how responsive she is. I press my hips into her, letting her feel everything she’s doing to me, letting her feel that even if she thinks she’s not attractive, I do.
I keep pressing kisses along her neck and her collarbone and her cheek and everything I can except for her mouth, all while I rock my hips into her. She whimpers every time my cock brushes just right between her legs, and she arches her hips up, seeking more contact.
“Hey, Hollis?”
“Hmm?”
I rub against her again. Another moan. I drag my lips away from her body and pull back, breaking our contact.
This time when she whimpers, it’s pained.
“No. What are you doing? I—”
“Hush,” I interrupt, staring down at her. “I need you to listen to me, okay?”
“Okay,” she says, and I laugh because that is not hushing.
She tucks her lips together, a promise not to say anything else.
“You’re beautiful.” She opens her mouth, but I cut her off with a sharp glare and she clamps her mouth shut. “Everything about you is beautiful, even the parts you don’t like. Hell, especially the parts you don’t like. Those are my favorite because they need the extra love.”
A smile starts to slip across her lips.
“What you’re doing…growing this baby inside of you…it’s magical. Sexy. You’re sexy. I need you to realize that, okay? I need you to realize that seeing your stomach grow and knowing that’s my baby in there is the hottest thing I have ever had the pleasure of witnessing.”
She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t have to. I can see the tears sliding out of her eyes and into her hair.
“So the next time you decide to talk crap about yourself, I want you to remember that every time you do, my boner dies, and that’s just a waste of a good boner.”
A laugh bubbles out of her, and I capture it with a kiss, wanting to keep it for myself. I might not be able to give her everything she needs, like a relationship or a welcome into my home, but I can give her this right now.
I kiss her until my alarm goes off, reminding me I need to be at the rink soon.
Then I kiss her some more. And once again just before I walk out the door.
“If we win tonight,” I tell her, “that’s becoming my pregame ritual. It has to—for science.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “Damn hockey players and their superstitions.”
That night, we beat Seattle four to zero.
I never understood it before when the dads on the team would complain about being away from their wives and kids, but I get it now, and I have never been more excited for a plane to land in my life. I’m so damn excited I almost become one of those people—the clapper when the pilot successfully lands.
I don’t care.
I don’t care because I miss Hollis and I need to see her.
I realize I’m probably growing way too comfortable spending time with her, but I can’t stay away. Whenever we’re not together, I want to be. Whenever we are together, I never want to leave. I just like being around her, and it’s not even all entirely related to her carrying my child.
I just like her.
I get it now, what Smith was talking about when he said he was learning what matters and what doesn’t, what was missing and what wasn’t.
Hollis is what I’ve been missing.
I realize that now as I stumble into her apartment building just after two AM. Our plane landed not too long ago, and though I kept telling myself it was too late to bother her and just needed to go home, I drove here anyway. Even though I kept telling myself to turn around and not get on the elevator, I did it anyway, and even though I promised myself I wouldn’t knock on her door, that’s exactly what I’m doing right now.
I rap my knuckles against the wood, and it’s only seconds until I hear a shuffling coming from inside the apartment.
Hollis pulls the door open. Though her hair is rumpled, she doesn’t look like she was sleeping at all. In fact, it looks like she was waiting up.
For me.
She’s wearing a thin t-shirt that’s pulled tight over her stomach, which I swear is even bigger than it was the last time I saw her. Her tits—which have gone up at least half a cup size—are straining against the fabric so much that her nipples are nearly visible through it. She’s wearing a pair of tiny shorts and a look in her eye that says she’s hungry…and not for food.
My cock instantly springs to life, straining against the dress slacks I didn’t bother changing out of.
“Hi,” she says quietly, her lips tipping up in the corner.
I grin back. “Hey.”
She doesn’t move, and I don’t either.
Then suddenly we’re both moving at once.
I have no idea who reaches for who first, but one second I’m standing outside her apartment, and the next I’m inside with her against the wall, her legs wrapped around me, our mouths fused together like kissing each other is what they were made for.
Not kissing her for four days felt like hell.
Kissing her for four seconds feels like heaven.
And I have no idea how I’m going to stop.
