16. Sebastian
Chapter sixteen
Sebastian
Bloody hell, eating a strawberry like that should be illegal. I shift in the seat, grateful she can’t see over the desk, because these black joggers do nothing to hide my hard dick.
I want her. I’ve always wanted her, but now more than ever.
Sutton has always been gorgeous to me, but now I swear she’s glowing, and she’s beginning to show, which makes her more attractive to me.
How do I know she’s starting to show? Because I’ve caught sight of her tiny bump a few times at night when she stretches or moves a certain way, and it’s bloody hot.
I cannot wait to see her even more swollen with child.
New kink unlocked.
“You want some?”
I give myself a shake and force myself to focus and not think about her naked, spread out on my bed with her baby bump on display.
“No, I’m good. You enjoy, love. Are you coming to the game tonight?”
It’s our last home game before the break and also our last game before we get married. The past few weeks have been a whirlwind—the entire team now knows we’re getting married, including HR. It was a tricky situation to explain to them given we’d never told them we were dating.
Sutton finally broke down and told them about the stipulations of her grandmother’s will.
I won’t forget the look on their faces, including Coach’s, when she explained.
I swore he was going to have an aneurysm.
I’ve always thought he had a soft spot for Sutton.
Not in a creepy way but more of a father figure or even older brother way, and that reaction proved me right.
I’m glad she has one more person she can rely on.
Needless to say, after that, HR immediately signed off on our relationship or whatever it is they do. Tonight, I want to make a statement to anyone watching that she’s mine, even if it is fake. I want to pretend just for one night that she’s mine, that they’re mine, for real.
“I am.” She yawns. “I’m planning to leave early, go home, nap, and then be back around six.”
I don’t miss the fact that she called my condo home. I like that she thinks of it as her home. I like it a lot.
I pick up the bag that I set on the ground when I walked in and place it on the desk. “Will you wear this?” She stares at the bag. “It’s just a sweater, love.”
She nods, taking the gift from me and pulling out the jersey. “You-you want me to wear your number?” She bites her bottom lip, glancing between me and the Storm jersey in her hand. It takes all my self-restraint not to lean forward and tug her lip out from between her teeth.
“I do. We need to sell this, right? My fiancée would be wearing my name and number.”
Do I actually think the lawyer is going to check video from my hockey games? No. Does she need to know that? Also no. And if I’m wrong and he does, well, she’ll be there wearing my name and number.
She blushes. “Isn’t this enough?” She holds up her left hand, and I fight the urge to rush around the table and kiss her. Claim her as mine.
“Please, Sutton.” I’m not above begging at this point. Just once, I want to look up into the stands and see my woman, even if it is fake, wearing my jersey and cheering me on. Aside from winning the Stanley Cup, this is the one thing left on my professional hockey career bucket list.
She must read something in my expression or hear it in my voice because she says, “Of course. You’re doing so much for me it’s the least I can do …”
“Thank you.” I stand, knocking my knuckles against the desk, needing to get out of here before I do something ridiculous like kiss her or beg her to date me. “I should get home. I’ll see you tonight.”
“See you.”
With a wave, I head out of her office and toward the parking lot so I can go home and take a nap before the game.
“You ready for this?” Wes asks as we’re lacing up our skates hours later.
I swivel my head to look at him. “Huh?” Does he somehow know I asked Sutton to wear my number? Not that it matters if he does.
“The game. Are you ready to hunt some birds?”
“Always.”
I hate the Mockingbirds. Everyone in this dressing room does. They’re our biggest rivals, and when we play them, the games are always nasty.
He holds his fist out, and I bump mine against it. “Excited for your big day?” I blink a couple of times. “Your wedding?”
“Oh, yeah.” I bob my head a few times. “All I’ve gotta do is pick up my tux tomorrow.”
“Not getting cold feet, are you?” He narrows his eyes at me.
I grab my stick and the tape. “Of course not. I promised Sutton, and I’m a man of my word.”
“Good. Good.” He grabs a brand-new package of tape and gets to work taping his stick.
“All set?” Hunter asks when he ambles over a few minutes later.
“Let’s do this shit.” I hop to my feet, and Wes does the same.
We all file out into the hallway and toward the ice.
Holt leads us out, pausing to push the stacks of warm-up pucks on top of the low boards onto the ice.
Everyone goes their separate ways on our side.
Holt over to the net to stretch. Hunter and Elias pass the puck between them.
I scan the area behind the net where the family and friends of the team usually sit, grinning when I spot Sutton along the glass with the other ladies.
She waves, and I lift my stick in greeting.
“You gonna stand there and gawk like a lovesick puppy or actually warm up?” Wes asks from behind me.
I scoff before skating away to do a few laps around our half of the ice. Eventually, I make my way over to where the ladies are. Holt is already standing at the glass, his mask in his hand, waving at his daughter who is giggling and clapping.
Sutton greets me with a wave and spins around, showing me the back of her jersey.
The one with my name on it. And while I knew she was going to be wearing it, it still sends a thrill up my body to see her in it.
I rub a gloved hand against my chest, which feels tight.
She presses her palm against the glass, and I take my glove off to hold mine up to hers.
I want this to be real.
The thought hits me out of nowhere, and I take a shaky breath, stepping back.
Sutton blows me a kiss, and my smile gets even wider.
Hazel bangs on the glass and I turn my attention to her, playing a few rounds of peekaboo with her.
She just giggles, covering her eyes with her hand, bouncing in Becca’s arms. I turn my attention back to Sutton, who is watching me with a look on her face I can’t quite place, I waggle my eyebrows at her before waving and heading back to finish my routine.
This is just for show.
That’s what I keep telling myself through warm-ups even though I don’t know if I even believe it.
The game flies by in a whirl of fights and penalties, times where we lead only to have the Mockingbirds score a goal. In the last five minutes, Hunter scores the tying goal, which brings new life to the team.
We line up at center ice for the puck drop after the goal with our second line center taking the face off, which he wins, pulling it cleanly back.
He tries to pass it across the ice to one of our other forwards, but the Mockingbirds read the play and take possession of the puck.
It’s a race up the ice trying to regain control.
The Mockingbirds converge on Holt in the net, and at the last second, when their center shoots, I fling myself in front of him, blocking the shot.
“Bloody hell.” I get back to my feet and skate to the bench, already feeling the start of a bruise on my hip where the puck hit me.
“Nice save,” Elias says as we pass each other.
“Thanks. Now go get it done.”
He tips his chin at me and takes his spot in the face off circle while I take my seat on the bench. I say a silent prayer that we’re able to take possession and win.
We’re on a hot streak having won our last five games. I’d love to make it six, and against our rivals no less.
Elias wins the draw, and he and Hunter are able to fly the zone, clearing the puck.
“Come on. Come on,” Wes mutters next to me on the bench.
Hunter finally shoots, and with our third forward acting as a screen in front of their goalie, somehow the puck goes in.
“Hell, yeah,” Wes yells next to me as we all stand up to bump gloves with Hunter when he comes back to the bench.
The last ninety seconds are a nail-biter, but finally the horn sounds, with us winning. You’d think we just won a playoff game the way the crowd cheers. We make our way onto the ice to congratulate Holt before the three stars of the game are announced and we finally go back to the dressing room.
“I’m so ready to go home.”
“Me too,” Wes says from his spot next to me on the bench where he’s taking off his jersey.
Shit, I said that out loud.
I just nod before making my way into the showers. It’s finally the All-Star break. In a few days, I’ll be marrying Sutton, and I’m ecstatic. I shouldn’t be. But I am. Probably because I also planned a quick overnight honeymoon for us at an upscale hotel downtown.
I’ve already decided that if she protests, I’ll tell her we need to keep up appearances, which we do, but mostly I want an excuse to spend time alone with her. Because even though this has an expiration date, I can’t help wanting her.