Winger (Seattle Sharks 3)

I swallowed hard, following her gaze to her tummy, and then on to the beautiful bare legs beneath it. Fuck if she let me, I’d wear those legs around my face all day long.

Lock it up.

Right.

“Hot,” I said but meant it as a question.

She shifted on her feet. “It’s like a sauna in here.”

I tilted my head, knowing full well the thermostat had been set at sixty-two upon her arrival. “You are in front of a stove.”

“Well, that didn’t help either.” She slid four pancakes onto a plate, then drizzled syrup all over the stack. “Want some?” she asked, eyeing my gym clothes. “You must be hungry after all that running.” She took a small bite off the fork, her lips wrapping around the utensil in a way that made my dick twitch.

Standing there in only a t-shirt, eating right in front of the stove—fucking sexy as hell.

“I…uh…” I’d never wanted pancakes so bad in my entire life.

She umphed and jumped at the same time, her free hand flying to her right side. She quickly set the plate and fork down, rubbing the area behind her right hip. “You don’t like pancakes, baby?”

At first, I thought she was talking to me, and the sweet tone of her voice cinched tight around my chest.

Took only a second to realize she was looking down. Holding a one-sided conversation with our unborn child.

Jealousy rippled through me when she flinched again.

I hadn’t been invited to speak or feel the kicks, yet.

I shook off the sensation, moving closer to her without thinking.

“You okay?” I asked again, noting the crease between her brow.

“Yeah,” she said. “Baby-ball is just getting stronger.”

I reached my hands toward the spot she rubbed—not her tummy, but close enough to it that once she saw my intent, she backed away, almost like an instinct.

I lowered my hands, my head dropping a fraction along with my heart.

Fuck, that hurts.

Worse than a hit from Rory on the ice—and that was a mad pain like no other.

This?

Her keeping a wall between us?

Between my baby and me…shit.

All the air seemed to have been sucked from the room, my lungs burning for a breath worse than when I’d ran the miles this morning.

Apology flashed through her eyes, and she took a step toward me, but I backed up several feet, motioning over my shoulder with my thumb. “I’ve got to shower before my lunch with the guys.”

“Right.” Her shoulders sank, but she nodded. “Have fun.”

I nodded a little too quickly, booking it down the hallway and to my shower.

Technically it was Jeannine’s shower now, but I hadn’t moved my stuff over to the guest bathroom yet.

I would…later. Right now, I needed ice cold water, and some damn sense knocked into me.

What had I been thinking?

That I’d move her in and she’d magically invite me into a heart she kept locked tighter than a vault?

That all it would take was me winning a stupid carnival toy for her to see I could be trusted?

That I could be a good father?

“Ridiculous,” I grumbled to myself as I stepped under the cool water.

The sting hit my skin and shocked some breath into my lungs. I scrubbed and rinsed in a fierce rush, my muscles protesting the lack of warmth and length of the soak.

I couldn’t linger, though, not when every second I stood in there I thought about what Jeannine looked like in this exact same spot. Nothing to hide her gorgeous body, the one now growing our child inside it.

The glow she emanated, even before she got pregnant.

The way her skin was soft like silk. I bet the hot water only made it more supple, tender, sensitive. I would use the slickness of the water to drench between her thighs, tease and torture her sweet spot until she couldn’t stand on her own anymore. Until I had to hold her up while I devoured every glorious inch of her…

And, fuck me, I was hard.

Damn this woman.

Dead set on shutting me out, and could I really blame her? She’d only known one version of me.

Hell, I was still getting used to this new outlook…this new importance pulsing in my blood, demanding me to alter my vision of the future and provide.

I fisted my rock-hard dick, leaning my other arm against the shower wall. So much for a cold shower, even it had no chance against the powerhouse that was Jeannine. Those bare legs, that stunning smile. The way she owned herself and wouldn’t give an inch.

That mouth.

Fuck.

I pumped harder, tightening my fist, seeing nothing but her.

The smell of her shampoo and the body wash she used that left a fresh scent on her skin was all around me, tempting me, taunting me.

Mine.

But just out of reach.

Harder.

I could almost feel her—my memory branded with the sensation of how it had felt to sink into her with nothing between us. The warmth of her perfect cunt, tightening and swirling around my dick. The way she’d met every single one of my animalistic thrusts—this wild woman loving it hard and fast, teasing and torturing.

I upped my pace, punishing myself for not being strong enough to withstand her fire.

Not being able to give her exactly what she needed.

For not having a clue what that really was.

From the tension in her body a moment ago, it looked like she needed exactly this.

Fuck me, that did it.

The image of her fingers plunging between her own thighs, exploring herself, finding the release she desperately needed…it brought on my own, and I groaned.

A few ragged breaths and I re-cleaned up, shutting the water off several minutes later. Dressed in a fresh pair of jeans and T, I both hoped she would and wouldn’t be in the kitchen when I left. I wanted to see her, talk to her, try to figure out what she really wanted from me, but I was terrified of actually finding out the answer.

Because I was almost certain it had nothing to do with me.

A half hour later—after I sadly didn’t run into Jeannine again, the kitchen clean and empty—I sank into a chair across from the guys at our favorite burger joint.

“I didn’t realize this was bring-your-kid-to-lunch day,” I said, glaring at Bentley who sat on Gage’s left. Rory across from him and on my right.

“Crazy that you’ll actually be able to do that soon, huh, old man?” Bentley fired back, and though I instantly gave the dude props for the quip, I deepened my glare.

Gage smacked the kid’s chest, which was more defined than when I had left. Maybe he really had been working his ass off as much as Gage said, but that wouldn’t be proven until I saw him on the ice.

“You told him?” I growled, my eyes darting between my boys.

Gage’s shoulders sank. “He overheard Bailey and me talking before we came here.”

“Look,” Bentley said, raising his hand toward me. “I’m sorry, all right. I can’t control my mouth sometimes.”

I snorted, rolling my eyes.

“I meant to say congratulations.” His eyes said he was being sincere, but I was still pissed he knew something so deeply personal to me. Not that I was trying to hide it, but damn, I hadn’t fully adjusted yet.

“Thanks,” I said but it sounded more like a growl.

Our waitress came over to the table, smiling. “The usual today guys?” She glanced around at each of us.

Rory shook his head first. “No, Suze,” he said. “We’re going to need whiskey today.”

Her eyebrows rose, but she nodded. “Before or after burgers?”

“Both.” Rory and Gage said at the same time.

She nodded and hurried off to put in our orders and grab the drinks.

“So,” Gage said after a few too many minutes of silence where I sized Bentley up, and he did his best not to look me in the eye. He studied the drink

menu extremely hard. “How is the houseguest?”

Beautiful.

Fun.

Infuriating.

“Fine,” I said, shrugging. “Was cooking earlier without getting sick, so that is progress.”

“That is a good sign,” Rory said, sympathy coloring his eyes. Wasn’t too long ago that he’d been in the same boat. Gage a few months ahead of him. “I bet she’s going nuts not working,” he continued.

I nodded, wrapping my fingers around the glass of whiskey Suze set before me. “I’m sure she is,” I said, trying like hell not to sound jaded.

“Do you two…talk?” Gage asked, quickly taking a sip of his whiskey.

I took a good long pull before I answered. “Sure,” I said. “We even went on a date.”

“Warren Kinley went on a date?” Rory raised his eyebrows. “Did hell just freeze over?”

Bentley laughed but shut it down after a second.

I chuckled. “Yeah,” I said. “Wasn’t as bad as I remembered.”

The last date I’d been on had been years ago, so far back I could barely remember. The one thing I did remember was how it didn’t fit my mold—the one relationship for life type. I’d never met a girl who could handle my dry sense of humor, or my brooding moods when I was in the zone for hockey season.

But now? There was something about Jeannine that made me re-think that thought process. Like if there was anyone that could handle me for longer than a few nights, it was her. With all her fire and attitude and strength. Who better to help keep me in check? And I’d thought that before I’d seen her swollen with my child.