Chapter Eight #2
She carefully slips off the bow, then slides her manicured finger under the paper to unwrap it cleanly. She lifts the lid of the white box, pulling out the tissue paper inside, and setting it beside her.
She gasps.
Inside the box lie two folded dark blue jerseys. She pulls the first one out. It’s a tailored women’s jersey, and on the back, in bold white numbers, it reads 89, with my last name stitched neatly across the shoulder blades with silver trim.
She blows out a breath, her fingers tracing the stitched lettering. But before she speaks, she sees the other one.
She reaches back into the box and lifts out a tiny jersey, not much bigger than the size of my hand. On the back, matching the women’s jersey, is a small white 89 and the bold letters VAUGHN.
Ellis stares down at the baby jersey in her lap, and it seems like she might be holding her breath.
I watch her face closely, suddenly worrying that I’d gone too far. “Princess? You okay?”
She doesn’t answer right away. But I see a single tear well in her eye before spilling down her cheek.
My heart hammers against my ribs. “Hey…if it’s too much, I can—”
“It’s perfect,” she chokes out, her voice thick with emotion. She wipes away the tear with the back of her wrist, looking at me with a watery smile. “Brody…it’s…oh, God, my hormones are wild tonight.”
She sets the jerseys down on the table and turns to me, wrapping her arms tightly around my neck.
I pull her into my lap without a second thought. My arms wrapping securely around her waist, holding her tight against my chest while she buries her face into the side of my neck.
“Thank you,” she whispers against my skin. “That’s seriously the sweetest thing I’ve ever gotten.”
“Well, you two are part of my team now,” I say, my voice thick with genuine meaning. “Figured you both would need the home jersey. Can’t have you wearing someone else’s now, can I?”
She pulls back just enough to look at me, her face inches from mine. Her hazel eyes soft and unguarded.
“In my line of work, I tend not to wear a player’s jersey to show favoritism. But for you, I'd make an exception,” she says teasingly, but also…I think she means it. “I have something for you too,” she tells me, her gaze dropping to my mouth.
“Oh, you didn’t have to get me—”
“Stay right there,” she commands, slipping off my lap and walking toward a low cabinet near the dining area.
She returns a minute later carrying a dark green box trimmed in gold foiling. She sets the heavy box in my lap.
When I look down at the label, I see it’s a forty-year-old single-malt whisky from a high-end distillery in the Scottish Highlands, very rare, and likely impossible to buy in a store or even online.
I look up at her, an incredulous grin spreading across my face. “Ellis. Is this…?”
“The exact brand,” she confirms, leaning against the edge of the sofa. “No soy sauce. No tea. No apple juice. It’s a pure, untouched batch.”
I let out a low laugh, running my fingers over the seal. “But how can I trust you? Are you sure your brother didn’t tamper with it?”
She throws her head back and laughs. “I personally inspected the bottle. Consider it a thank you for keeping my secret.” Her head dips, but she’s still looking at me. “And for taking such good care of us.”
“Thank you, Ellis,” I say softly, setting the box down on the table next to the jerseys.
I reach out, catching her wrist, and pull her gently back down onto my lap.
This time, I don’t hesitate or wonder if this is the right thing to do.
I frame her face with both hands and bring my mouth down over hers.
Ellis lets out a sigh into the kiss, bringing her hands up to rest against my chest before sliding up to hook over my shoulders. The kiss is slow and deep. It’s heavy with fierce affection that I think has been building for a while now. For both of us, if tonight is any indication of her feelings.
I shift, pulling her even closer, my arm bracing her back. My mouth moves against hers with intent, tasting her sweetness.
“Brody,” she mumbles against my lips, her fingers dragging through the hair at the back of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine.
“Yeah?” I whisper, my lips sliding down the soft line of her jaw as I press a lingering kiss to the sensitive skin of her throat.
“You’re very good at this,” she breathes, her head tilting back slightly to give me more access, her hands now cupping the back of my head. Like she’s afraid I’ll move away.
I chuckle lightly as my lips move back up to capture hers again, even deeper this time. My thumb traces a slow circle on her lower back where the sweatshirt has inched up.
She moves this time, straddling my lap, and I can feel the heat of her pussy even through my jeans. I slide my hands under the sweatshirt, pushing it up as I move, tracing her skin, making her tremble and gasp into my mouth.
I take my time, worshipping every inch of skin I touch, while kissing down her jaw, her neck, the dip of her collarbone.
I reach her breasts and cup them over her bra.
They’re full and warm, and fit perfectly in my hands.
I pull both bra cups down, letting her breasts spill out.
She arches against me, her hands tangling in my hair.
I pull the sweatshirt up and lean forward, taking one peaked nipple into my mouth.
Her head falls back, and a soft moan escapes her.
I suck on her nipple, then pull back, gently scraping my teeth against her sensitive nubs and release it with a pop. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I turn us and lay her gently on the couch.
Leaning over her for a beat, I take in the sight of her—flushed, breathless, her eyes wide.
“Is this okay?” I ask, not wanting to push my limits, but also praying she won’t tell me to stop.
“Oh, it’s more than okay,” she says, holding her bottom lip between her teeth.
I don’t waste time. I kneel between her knees and trail my hands up her thighs until I reach the waistband of her pants. I look up at her again, and she nods at me to continue. I urge her to lift her hips so I can pull them down her legs.
She sits up slightly to tug her sweatshirt off, then she cups her own breasts, tugging at her nipples.
I lean down and kiss slowly from her knee toward her pussy.
I’ve never been with a pregnant woman before, but I feel like I need to be gentle and take my time, allowing her to feel every kiss.
And when my mouth reaches the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, Ellis lets out a shuddering breath, her fingers gripping the velvet cushion above her head.
I want to give her everything. I want her to feel consumed and safe. She groans, her hips lifting toward my mouth, her breath breaking into sweet gasps that fill the room. Her hands reach down to tangle in my hair, holding me close, as she pants my name.
“I’ll take care of you, Princess,” I assure her.
She’s soaked through her panties, and the scent of her is intoxicating.
I move her underwear to the side, and run my tongue from her clit to her opening in one stroke.
I lay my hand on her stomach, and I feel the small bump where her baby grows inside of her.
It might be a weird thing to think, but knowing she’s growing a little person inside of her…
is a huge turn-on to me. I continue to flick her clit with my tongue, and she bucks again. I flick again, and she lets out a gasp.
I slip my index finger inside her, and she starts to rock her hips against my mouth back and forth in a steady rhythm.
“You gonna come for me, Ellis? I want to taste your come all over my tongue.” I increase the pace of my finger pumping in and out when I start to feel her body trembling.