Page 78 of Slap Shot Surprise
It was what we’d agreed to.
But something about this didn’t seem right.
SIXTEEN
mabel
You best keepyour hands off the mother of my son.
I shivered, cuddling deeper beneath the duvet in the dark. As long as I lived, I would never forget the tone of his voice as he spoke those words.
Dangerous. Threatening. Possessive.
It wasso hot.
I couldn’t stop hearing it. The deep, raw texture of his voice provoked memories of other things he’d said to me in the heat of passion.
What do you want? Tell me every filthy little thing.
My body warmed and tingled in sensitive spots, and I closed my eyes, letting the memory of his mouth and his hands and his body on mine crash over me like waves. God, what I wouldn’t give to relive that night with him, to feel so swept away.
He was right down the hall.
No. Go to sleep.
But I lay there wide awake as the minutes ticked by, tormented by his nearness and the memory of our one night together, until I thought I’d go mad.
Was he feeling it too? Sometimes I thought he looked at me with something more than friendship in his eyes, but he hadn’t said anything even remotely suggestive all night, and he’d kept his hands to himself. Even when he hugged me good night, it had felt sort of...careful.
What would he do if I tiptoed down the hall and knocked on his bedroom door? And what excuse would I give? If I was thirsty, I had a water bottle. If I was hungry, I could just go to the kitchen. If I was cold, extra blankets were in the closet.
I couldn’t very well tell him the truth—that his possessiveness had turned me on so much, I couldn’t sleep. What if he rejected me? What if he didn’t find me attractive anymore now that I was pregnant? What if something happened and I started to catch feelings I couldn’t control? A lot was riding on my ability to keep a level head and stay emotionally stable. I didn’t want to end up brokenhearted and resentful. Joe and I would be in each other’s lives forever. We had to preserve the peace between us.
Then I heard something—footsteps in the hallway? A creak of the wood floor?
I propped myself up on my elbows and listened carefully, holding my breath, praying for a soft knock on the door.
But the room remained silent.
Eventually, exhaustion caught up with me and I fell asleep.
I woke up disoriented.
This bed was comfortable, but it wasn’t mine. Theroom didn’t smell the same. There was no light coming through the blinds. Slowly I came out of the haze and remembered.
I was in Chicago visiting Joe. This was his guest room, with the fluffy white bedding and the blackout shades. I’d gone to his game last night, and then we’d met his friends at the pub.
I reached for my phone, surprised to discover that it was already going on ten—I never slept so late. I also saw that Joe had texted me about five minutes ago.
Hey, I’m heading to practice, but it’s a light day for us. I should be home by 2:00 and we can do whatever you’d like. There are decaf coffee pods and tea in the pantry since I wasn’t sure you could have caffeine. Fruit in the fridge. Bagels on the counter. Help yourself to anything.
Thank you! Sorry I slept so long. This bed is too comfy!
I lay there for a few more minutes, hoping he’d find a moment to text back, but no new messages popped up. Setting my phone aside, I lay back and closed my eyes.
You best keep your hands off the mother of my son.
Then I reached for my phone again and called Ari.
