Lucas Read online

Lest you think me a total dick, let me admit that while casual, monogamous sex with Stephy is great, there is a little something missing. I didn't realize this until this morning when I sat on the team plane waiting for everyone to complete boarding, and suddenly I wondered what she was doing. I'd left her apartment super early to have time to go home and get packed for the trip. She was barely awake when I rolled out of bed. I got a mumbled "Good luck" after I kissed her goodbye. She was sleeping on her stomach, covers kicked to the floor and that gorgeous ass begging for me to get back in bed. But I didn't have time, so I kissed her on her lower back, just above the swell of her butt, and then I was gone.

  But this morning I couldn't stop thinking about her and I wondered what she would do today and tonight without me, and would she watch my game on TV, and then I realized...I had no idea about these things. For four straight nights we have spent the night together, fucked and slept and fucked and slept. And while I was in the midst of all of that superb sex with one of the hottest women I've ever been with, I never thought about anything else except superb sex with a hot woman.

  My mind is cleared, though. I've got some distance between us and I know I'll be by myself in the hotel room tonight. And I realize most intensely that while I've been considering this a monogamous relationship--because in my mind, I'd been completely happy with the arrangement--I have no clue if that's what Stephy thinks this is. After all, she's a beautiful woman with a healthy sexual appetite. We never explicitly said that we'd be faithful to each other, and if there's one thing I learned that first night when she told me about her family, it's that Stephy doesn't form attachments very easily.

  Therefore, without thinking, I'd whipped out my phone and called her. I hunkered down in my seat and turned toward the window slightly. Max hadn't boarded yet, and we normally sit together, so I had a moment of privacy if I kept my voice low. She sounded breathless when she answered.

  "You're all out of breath," I teased her. "What's a guy to think?"

  She laughed. "I was running on my treadmill. What are you doing?"

  "Getting ready to take off soon."

  "Hmmmm," she hummed in acknowledgment. "I know I already said it, but let me say it again...good luck tonight. I'll be watching and rooting you on."

  Warmth bloomed and spread through my chest and I couldn't prevent the sappy smile that came to my face. She was going to watch me tonight.

  Where would she be, though?

  "So where are you going to catch the game?" I asked casually.

  "Right here in my apartment," she said without hesitation. "I've got the NHL package. I'll be in an old pair of sweats with a bowl of popcorn watching your every move."

  That warmth burned brighter. I've pretty much licked every inch of her body and given her countless orgasms, but I had no clue she was that big a hockey fan. We'd never really talked about it much.

  I hunched into my seat further, my eyes darting around. People were boarding the plane, there was lots talking and laughing, and I probably wouldn't be heard. "Listen, Stephy...I wanted to ask you something."

  "Yes, I'll go steady with you." She cackled into the phone, and I smiled as I shook my head. But she stopped laughing abruptly and became serious. "Okay...sorry...couldn't resist. What did you want to ask?"

  I scratched my head and she couldn't see the sheepish look on my face, but I'm sure she heard it by the tone of my voice "Actually...that was sort of my question."

  She remained silent and that wasn't good.

  "Stephy?"

  She gave a little cough. "I'm not exactly sure what you mean."

  I rolled my eyes, because she's not dense, and I don't want to play games. I lowered my voice even further. "It means I want to be exclusive with you for however long we keep fucking each other. I only want your pussy coming on my cock, and I'm curious if you want the same."

  A long, quavering gust of breath echoed through the phone and I could her the tremble in her voice because that right there just turned her on. "Okay."

  "Okay?"

  "Okay," she affirmed. "But...this is still just casual, right? I mean...we're both giving each other something the other wants, and it's mutually beneficial to us, and--"

  "Easy, Stephy," I said with a chuckle. "I'm not really asking you to go steady. Just that I want the sex to be exclusive."

  And even as I said that, that wasn't quite right either. I wanted to learn more about her. I wanted her to make me laugh--which she does quite easily--and well, fuck, I want to be around her more than just when I'm balls deep. I feel at ease around her because what we do in the bed is so fucking intimate, the way we push each other. I just want...a little something extra.

  I got the promise back from her that this would be exclusive and she even confided in me that she actually doesn't have a lot of hookups, but she normally wouldn't pass up an interesting opportunity either. It relieved me as much as it pissed me off to think about her hooking up with anyone either before or after me, but in the end she said she really liked what we had and was more than happy it being just the two of us.

  Now I'm lying on my hotel bed in my boxers, waiting for Van to get in. He went out after our victory over the Washington Breakers while I elected to stay in the room. I was, after all, in a monogamous relationship now and I didn't need the temptations.

  I snicker to myself because there's no way I could get tempted. I can only think about Stephy and how wild and uninhibited we are with each other.

  Pulling myself up higher on the bed to rest against the headboard, I dial her on my phone. She answers on the second ring. "Well, hello, Mr. Hot Hockey Dude."

  I laugh as I cross an arm over my stomach, resting my other elbow on it to hold the phone to my ear. I bring my legs up, planting my feet on the mattress and stare in dismay toward my dick, which started getting hard the second I heard her voice. I try to ignore it because I have no clue how late Van is staying out and don't want to be jerking off when he walks in.

  "Are you missing me yet?" I ask her.

  "I am," she says, and her voice is so sultry my dick starts to swell even more. It's all over when she says, "So I'm going to bust out my vibrator in a little bit and take care of that."

  "Jesus, Stephy," I grumble as I bolt up off the bed and walk to the window to look out. The glass is cold and I lean my forehead against it. "Van could walk in at any time and I cannot be sporting wood or jerking off."

  She laughs in delight and apologizes. "My bad. Let's talk about something else to get that hard-on to go away. What do you think about those videos that people post popping these big puss-filled boils on their bodies?"

  I shudder hard and my dick deflates. "That worked."

  "I hate them too." She laughs. "Why anyone would watch that is beyond me."

  "There is no one who gets my dick harder," I tell her dryly. "But you also have amazing capacity to kill it deader than a doornail."

  Stephy laughs again, and I smile as I pull my forehead away from the window. "Did you watch the game?"

  "Fishing for compliments?" she throws back at me.

  "Well, duh."

  And fuck...she giggles into the phone and I can almost envision her twirling her hair around her finger. That is so not Stephanie, but it's adorably cute.

  "You played really good, Luc," she says softly...and is that with pride in her voice?

  Surely not.

  "So you're a big hockey fan?" I ask her.

  "I wasn't until I moved to North Carolina, but I was able to score some cheap tickets when I was in college and I was completely hooked. I'm not going to lie to you, though, my jersey is an Alex Crossman jersey."

  "Now that's just cruel," I mutter, even though I know she's also teasing me. I make a mental note to get her one of my jerseys, then make a second note to have her wear it around me with nothing on underneath it.

  "I'll make it up to you, I promise," and once again, her voice is sexy silky and I actually ache with wanting her. But before my body can react accordingly, the key c
ard at the door clicks and I know Van is back.

  "Listen," I say into the phone as I turn to see Van walking in. "I've got to go...Van's back, but we'll be flying to Raleigh late Saturday night. Do you have plans for Sunday?"

  "Not really."

  "You do now," I tell her as Van gives me a nod toward the phone with raised eyebrows. I hold a finger up to him.

  "Okay, it's a date," she says, then stammers. "Well, not a date...we'll get together...for um...food or sex or something."

  Laughing, I assure her, "We'll figure it out. Talk later, okay?"

  "Okay," she says chuckling. "Bye."

  When I hang up, Van nods his head toward the phone again as he starts undressing. "Gonna get laid Sunday?"

  "Actually," I tell him as I pull the covers back on my bed and slide in, resting against the headboard again. "I'm sort of seeing someone."

  Van blinks at me a few times. We've only been roommates a little less than two months, but he knows how I operate. He knows it well because that's the way he operates too, but he doesn't get laid as often as I do. He's kind of cranky and doesn't like to work for it, although he's got some type of pussy magnet, because when he does feel like it, he gets some beautiful ass, I'll have to say.

  "Seeing someone?" he asks, but I can tell by his tone he doesn't believe me.

  I'm not about to tell him the full story. The only ones who know Stephy is pregnant are me, her, Max, Jules, and her doctor, and that's the way it will stay for a few more weeks until we can make sure everything's fine.

  But I will give him a little because if this continues on, he'll be meeting Stephy at some point. "Yeah...remember that night at the museum?"

  "You banged someone that worked there, right?" he asks, then shakes his head like I've lost it. "Didn't think it was that great, as you've hooked up with plenty of ass after her."

  I grit my teeth. "We ran into each other recently and hooked back up. She's cool and--"

  "She's got a magic pussy?" he guesses crudely. I know he's only joking and he's never seen this side of me, but still...I can't have that.

  "I like her," I tell him, and that's the truth. I've liked her from the moment I met her and nothing has changed about that. "So we're going to see each other and I'll figure it out from there."

  "Well, good luck, brother," he says as he grabs his shave kit and turns to the bathroom.

  "Where did you go tonight?" I ask his retreating back.

  "Some titty club," he mutters.

  "Who all went?" I ask, only slightly mourning the loss of my bachelor ways and hanging with my teammates. It's not that I can't go to a titty bar, because I so can and not be unfaithful, but well...I don't want to go.

  This is fucking weird.

  Van stops at the threshold to the bathroom. "I went by myself."

  "Why?" I ask, because several of my teammates would have been all over that.

  "Haven't you figured it out by now?" Van tells me, and he's not teasing in the slightest. "I'm not a people person. I don't want to sit around with the boys and talk about pussy and tits. I hang with you because you're tolerable--"

  "Gee, thanks," I mutter.

  "I like my time alone," he says, ignoring me. "I don't make a good friend."

  And fuck...that kind of makes me sad for the dude. I mean, I knew he was a bit of a loner because he doesn't come out a lot, but when he and I are one on one, we get along pretty damn good.

  "You've been a decent friend so far," I tell him, hoping to make him feel better or some shit.

  Van shakes his head and his eyes are hard. "Like I said...you're tolerable. But you're my teammate and my roommate, and that's it."

  My eyes narrow at his back as he retreats into the bathroom, as this is a side of Van I've not seen and I actually suspect he might be a little drunk. He's a total beast on the ice and can get a little vicious with the opposing team, but that's the nature of a lot of hockey players. He can be a cranky bastard, but we all have our days, right? We've not been bosom buddies or anything, but I've been around him enough to know this is strange behavior.

  This isn't the Van I know, but he's definitely putting me at arm's length.

  I make a mental note to myself to talk to Max about it and get his take.

  Looking back to my phone, I pull up my app and send my first ever text to Stephy.

  Sweet dreams.

  Her reply isn't immediate but it's before I can even get surfing good on Facebook. I flip over when I hear the chime and groan.

  Leave me alone. I can't text and use my vibrator at the same time.

  I turn on my side, my back to Van's bed so he can't see the tent I'd be making on my back, and send her a return text. You're so bad. Going to redden your ass for that.

  She sends me a smiley face in return and I let that be what takes me into sleep as I set my phone on the mattress beside me and close my eyes.

  Chapter 6

  Stephanie

  I sit on my couch, legs curled up under me, and stare out my apartment window. I don't even know what to do today. Luc said he was flying back last night and he wanted to do something today. We haven't talked again since his call after the Breakers game, but we have texted here and there. Last text I got was last night after I'd gone to sleep.

  All it said was, Boarding plane. See you soon.

  I know I should get up and get ready, because that "soon" could be anytime, I guess. But I'm groggy because I can't drink coffee and it takes me longer to get going nowadays without my beloved caffeine. I also feel a little off. Not sick, but maybe more tired? I'm assuming this could be from the pregnancy, or perhaps it's the fact I tossed and turned all night, having funky dreams about pregnancy. In one I remember I gave birth to a baby hippo and I was so proud of her, but my parents didn't want anything to do with her. Not any type of surprise there, really.

  A yawn overtakes me and I sit up on the couch, stretching my arms up high. I drop them and bring a hand to my belly, which is still completely flat at six weeks. I've been doing a lot of reading, obviously, and the baby is about the size of a peanut right now. I resist the urge to call him or her "peanut" as I lightly stroke my abdomen, wondering what gender it is.

  And then an immediate wave of sadness hits me all at once and I have to rub my eyes with my knuckles so I don't start crying. This has been happening on and off, where I'll be giddy with excitement about the pregnancy, and then I'll sink down into melancholy, telling myself I only want this baby because then I'll have someone who loves me, and well...that's just tragic.

  The swinging moods, I've read, are also normal at this time because of fluctuating hormones. I haven't actually felt hornier or anything, but I will admit, I do crave Luc with an intensity that scares me. He's like an addictive drug, and not just because of his stellar moves between the sheets. I've been discovering that he's actually easy to hang out with. Granted, there's not an awful lot of talking, but when there is, it's light and easy.

  No pressure for us to do anything other than have some fun while we muddle through this crazy change in our lives.

  A knock at the door startles me and I know it's Luc, not because I don't have any family or friends who would come knocking, but because I have an internal buzzing that just occurred and my body knows it's him. The attraction we share is actually tangible, and I've never felt anything like this before.

  I push up off the couch and pad to the door. I'm still wearing my pajamas--which consist of a flimsy camisole and boy-shorts panties--and my hair is wrapped up in a knot on top of my head. I haven't even brushed my teeth yet, and there's a day's worth of hair on my legs.

  This is just great.

  Just before I open the door, I scrub my hands over my face and take a deep breath. I'm both excited and ambivalent about him being here.

  Fucking hormones.

  Putting my eye to the peephole, I confirm it is indeed one hot hockey player holding a white paper bag. He's wearing a long-sleeve T-shirt, track pants, and a Cold Fury hat. I bet he'd even look
amazing wearing a leotard and leg warmers, bitterly thinking that soon I'm going to be fat and undesirable.

  Even as those thoughts run through my head, I snort so hard at myself that I'm actually laughing when I open the door.

  "There is nothing funny about you opening the door wearing that," he says as his eyes go slowly down my body and then back up again.

  I smirk at him.

  "What were you laughing about?" he asks without making a move to come in.

  "You do not want to be privy to my thoughts," I tell him with a grimace. "I went through about forty emotions all in the last ten minutes, and while I'm laughing now, I'm pretty sure I'll be crying soon. These hormones are making me a lunatic."

  Luc's eyes turn soft with sympathy as his head tilts to the side. He gives me an understanding smile and my eyes immediately fill with tears.

  Oh God.

  Oh God, no!

  "You asshole," I say as I laugh, then sob once, then laugh again. I step back, rubbing my eyes, as he walks in. "Don't look at me like that."

  "Jesus, you're a mess," he says softly, and then his arm hooks around my neck and he pulls me into him so he can press his lips against my forehead. "This will get better, though, right?"

  I nod and mumble into his chest, amazed at how wonderful a comforting embrace can feel. "I think so."

  Luc releases me and I pull back to look up at him with a sheepish grin on my face.

  "What are you doing here? I'm a lunatic and I didn't shave my legs. Or brush my teeth," I say with sudden memory and clap my hand over my mouth.

  Luc just chucks me under the chin and says, "You're cute."

  Then he brushes by me and takes the three steps to my tiny kitchen. He holds up the bag and shakes it. "I got breakfast."

  My stomach rumbles and now I suddenly feel jubilation so overwhelming I want to sing out loud like Julie Andrews on the top of an Austrian mountain. I just shake my internal head at myself and join him at my small table where he's set the bag.

  I lean over, peer inside, and take in two breakfast sandwiches wrapped in white paper soaked with grease. I inhale just on a normal breath, and take in the scent of egg, cheese, and...sausage?

  My stomach rolls over and nausea hits me so hard I can feel something starting to rise up my throat without any provocation. I slap my hand over my mouth and lurch back into the living room. My head spinning, I walk quickly down the tiny hall that leads to the master bedroom. The nausea gets worse and I start to run, vaguely hearing Luc say, "What the fuck?"