Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Jason
Finding the alarm off was disconcerting, though I wasn’t too worried because my spare key on the entryway table suggested Theo or Lauren had stopped by.
Finding Goldilocks on my sofa was even better than I could have imagined.
Franky was curled up on my sofa while the TV showed ESPN’s Coby Dawson interviewing my old captain on the Cougars after they had lost their game. I picked up the remote and muted it, then took a seat beside Sleeping Beauty. (I was killing it with the fairytale references.)
I had gently removed her glasses and grabbed a fleece blanket from a basket by the side of the sofa and draped it over her. Then I snuggled into the ten inches of space she had left on her right side and placed an arm around her waist. My hand moved tentatively over her stomach.
My baby inside my woman.
And with that happy thought, I had fallen asleep.
Now she was cooking for me. Sure, it was leftovers, and anyone could throw mashed potatoes in the microwave, but it was still nice to have someone waiting on me. Of course, I had to be careful about that illusion because that was all it was.
Dr. St. James was not wife material.
Maybe for someone, a nerd like London Clam Guy who probably had a housekeeper on hand because he and his egghead wife would have all this important research to do.
A nanny, too, because they certainly wouldn’t have time for child-raising.
I hadn’t thought about that. What was the doc going to do there?
That level of detail wasn’t laid out in the contract.
We sat down at the kitchen table with our meals. Dante’s mashed potatoes were creamier and fluffier than my mom’s, but Aurora’s yams were still the best of all of the veggies.
“So, how’s the childcare going to work?”
Franky looked up sharply.
“Not a trap. Just wondering.”
“I was thinking of taking a sabbatical for the first year while I write a book.”
“You’re writing a book?”
“Yes, on the mating habits of gastropods. I’ve written a few articles, and while this is an ostensibly esoteric subject, I think it has enough merit for a monograph.”
Just when I thought I couldn’t be any prouder. “You’re going to be tired those first few months.”
“I expect that. I may hire part-time childcare, but I’ll be doing most of it myself. I want to be sure the child bonds with me and not some stranger.”
A little defensive, but I got it. Women were expected to do it all, and the doc would be hyperaware of the expectations around motherhood, especially the single variety.
“You’re not alone in this. The baby’s due in early July, so we’ll be in the off-season then. That’s the first three months covered.”
Her eyes went wide. “But we won’t be living together.”
No, but she could move in here for the summer. The place was certainly big enough—I had bought it with a family in mind. The thought of her here … didn’t terrify me? Probably because I liked the idea of having my baby on site. Franky was just a bonus.
Best not to spook her. “I can pick the princess up from you, let you get your rest and some work done, then drop her off.”
She nodded slowly. “Perhaps. I’ll be on summer break then anyway.”
“Right. Or you could start your book in the fall, enjoy your time with the baby.”
She looked thoughtful for a second. “It’s going to really change our lives.”
“It sure is. But I think we’re mature enough to handle it.”
There was that sexy curve of her lips.
“Okay, you are. I’ll be doing my best to act like I know what I’m doing.”
“I saw the baby books.”
I wasn’t trying to hide them, though I probably shouldn’t leave them lying around in case my family or teammates came over.
“Just trying to do my part.”
“I appreciate it. Though I’m not sure how much of a say you’ll get in the naming.”
“Hold up there. If I leave it to you, we’ll be naming our kid Escargot or Snaily Cyrus.”
She laughed. I loved the husky timbre in it. “What about Shelly? Because—”
“Right, snails have shells. There you go again, Frank-explaining stuff to me. I did graduate magna cum laude.”
“What did you major in?”
“I was pre-med. Thought I might have a career in physio or sports training if the hockey thing didn’t pan out.” That’s right, Doc. I know my biology. Especially female anatomy.
It sounded like my academic achievements hadn’t come up in conversation with Sean.
I wondered what she’d think if she knew every insult she threw my way about dumb jocks and brainless athletes had spurred me on.
Had made me study harder, determined to prove her wrong.
So we were kids, but those childhood slights had stuck.
Slug Girl accepted her weird and went on to become a world-famous expert in her field.
I worked my ass off on the ice and in the classroom because success—in all things—was of paramount importance to me.
Not that I took a single iota of credit for the doc being such a big shot, but she definitely had more of an influence on me than I would ever admit aloud.
“And there I was thinking you coasted by on your thick thighs and sparkling smile.”
“Didn’t hurt. But I knew I wanted to be a hockey player the minute I saw Theo Kershaw play when I was eight years old. Then finding out a few years later that the guy was my brother?” I gave a low whistle. “Mind blowing.”
“I bet it was. I love seeing how close you’ve become. Theo’s a wonderful guy.”
“He is. And he’s built a great life.” Watch out. Might be sounding a little jealous there. “Is there pie?”
“Of course there is. Stay there and I’ll serve it, my lord and master.”
She was kidding, but again, I loved the dynamic here. Not that I wouldn’t be happy to get my own pie, but eating together and joking about baby names? This was my jam. Or maybe I was just desperate to Frankenstein a family life together because my own was so inadequate.
After pumpkin pie with vanilla ice cream, I took care of the dishes while Franky put the rest of the leftovers away in the fridge.
“I’d better be off,” she said.
“Not sure I like the idea of you driving at this hour.” Or leaving at all.
Napping with her on the sofa, my arm around her middle, had given me all sorts of ideas.
First, about the tendrils of hair curled along her nape.
The curve of her neck, as graceful as a swan with one tiny little freckle I wanted to lick.
The warmth of her body as she unconsciously pressed against mine.
How I wanted nothing more than to drive into her and hold myself deep before I let go of everything I had inside her.
I followed her to the door, every cell in my body screaming to say something. Anything to make her stay.
She turned, adjusted her glasses, and looked at me. “Are you sleeping with anyone right now?”
I’d had chances, plenty of them. Instead, I’d put myself on a self-imposed sex fast because … hell, I didn’t know why.
Yeah, ya do. Because the puck bunnies couldn’t hold up their end of the conversation, dude.
“Nope.” No point explaining. She might get the wrong idea.
“I imagine you’re tired—”
I cut her off with a kiss. I would never be too tired for this. For her.
She gasped into my mouth and made a hot, needy sound that went straight to my balls. I grasped her ass and ground her body into my cock, the part of my anatomy that had craved this woman for weeks.
She drew back, her plump lips kiss-swollen, her eyes lust-stoked. “Just sex, Jason. I know we have this connection now because of the baby, but I’m not looking for anything more than what we’ve already agreed upon.”
I’d take that for now. Still, I couldn’t resist a dig. “So, I have my uses.”
She rolled her eyes. “Please don’t go all sad sack because you consider yourself objectified. I also happen to like you, which I never in a million years thought I would say. Feel better?”
This woman’s mouth would be my end. I fucking loved when she got all spiky and sassy.
“Thank you for acknowledging my male fragility.” And then I kissed her again.
After a minute of deep, desperate tonguing, I pulled back. “I need to lock up and set the alarm. You head upstairs. First door on the right.”
“Okay,” she murmured. “Don’t be long.”
I could say I raced through the shutting-up-shop routine because sex was in my immediate future, but I also made sure to double-check every window and door before setting the alarm because, for the first time, I had more than a few trophies to protect.
I had her.
She was already in my bed, lights low, covers up to her collarbones, when I slipped into the room. A peek of bra strap sent my mind spinning.
I unzipped my jacket and ripped it off, throwing it over the clothes she had folded neatly and placed on top of my dresser. A study in contrasts.
She held up a hand.
“Let me savor it.”
That just made me harder. Slowing down was not where I wanted this to go, but if that was her wish, I would suffer.
“How about you strip me?”
She swallowed and pushed back the covers. As she knelt up, my eyes feasted on her curvaceous body in a blue bra and panties. No tights in sight, thank God, but her abdomen was a little more rounded.
I moved closer to the bed and watched avidly as she curled her slender fingers in the waistband of my sweats.
She peered up at me. “Am I going too slow?”
“Thought that was what you wanted.”
“I don’t want to torture you.” A hitch at the corner of her mouth said otherwise.
“I can handle it. Can you handle me?”
She pulled my sweats down, slowly, and proved that she could indeed handle me. I bit back a groan.
“I’m not sure. You’re so … thick.”
“Thought you’d have a better word than that.”
She stroked hard, thumbing the crown of my cock. “I think ‘thick’ is the most appropriate word to describe you. Thick cock, thick thighs, thick—”
“Careful, Doc.”
“Lips.”
That made me laugh. “Thick lips?”
She shrugged. “Not my best work.”
I loved her sense of humor, that dry way she had with her. It was understated and sneaky and laced with her intelligence. Such a turn on.
I was beginning to think I was completely fucked here.
My cock was close to her mouth, and I was waiting, wanting, dying for her to do something about it. Another stroke, a dart of her tongue over her lips, a close examination like I was one of her specimens.
Then she applied a gentle kiss to the head. Not a suck, not a lick, just the sweet pressure of her lips, and I started leaking like a battered watering can.
“Francesca,” I moaned.
Those cool blues flashed. She liked when I called her that. I liked when I called her that. Why weren’t we fucking all the time?
When she finally took me in her mouth, the answer came to me: if I had this woman in my bed as much as I wanted, I would never leave.
No family visits, no hockey games, no finding out who inherited the company in Succession (I had just started the last season).
This woman and her gorgeous, velvet mouth would be my constant, only obsession.
“I’m not going to last, Francesca,” I panted. But she didn’t stop, and I didn’t stop, and for the first time, I came inside her, not caring that it wouldn’t result in new life.
Because it had already resulted in so much more.