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I squeal in delight as John deposits me on the bed, my giggles bouncing off the walls. I reach back, slinging one of my pillows across his body, trying to stop his roaming hands that I secretly love. But there’s still a mess of boxes in the nursery, and I like things put away. An epic pillow battle ensues until his cocky demeanor and terrible puns quickly melt me like a popsicle in the sun.

Before long, the glint in his eyes turns hungry, and our laughter dissolves into soft whispers, teasing caresses, and tangled sheets.

John has taught me that it’s okay to sometimes live in the chaos, to laugh at the mess, and savor every unscripted second. He’s also shown me to ask for what I want—and not to apologize for wanting it. For someone who used to play by every rule, I never expected to love breaking a few with him. But I do. And when I tie his arms above his head, straddle him as his eyes darken, I know what’s coming next. He loves to praise me in bed, and I love hearing that I’m a good girl, a bad girl. But he doesn’t say either. Instead, he owns me and possesses me in the best of ways and says, “That’s my girl.”

CHAPTER FORTY

John - Three Months Later

I see Becca standing in the tunnel after our game against the Portland Glaciers. She’s waiting for me in our spot but when I get up close she has tears in her eyes, so I ask, “What’s wrong?” I’ve learned not to say anything about hormones at this stage.

My very pregnant fiancé grabs my elbow, leading me out of the tunnel like her shoes are on fire. “We’ve got to go.” Her words are clipped and sharp.

I stop and spin her around, pulling my best crooked grin but she doesn’t smile. Instead, her eyes flit around, appearing to be guilty of something or a fugitive on the run, looking over her shoulder.

“Are you having contractions? They’re probably those Braxton Hicks we’ve read about. Or wait… do you have to pee.”

“No, please let’s just go.” Becca’s pinched tone edges on what I would normally think of as fear, but why would she be afraid, here in a hockey arena?

I’ve learned from my college teammates that pregnancy hormones can switch their mood in an instant so like any good boyfriend, I slide my hands around her belly and hook them at the small of her back. “I know what to do to make you smile.”

She flattens her lips and narrows those baby blues untilthey’re only slits. “The only thing putting a smile on my face is peeling out of the parking lot and ordering a bacon ranch pizza from Mariano’s to go.”

Yesterday the ranch dressing on her salad soured in her stomach and she vowed she would never, I mean never eat ranch again. I don’t dare bring it up because a man can’t fight pregnancy hormones and she’s incubating our baby in her belly. So I can deal with a little indecisiveness and her acting differently once in a while.

“Mariano’s will hit the spot. But then I’m taking care of my soon-to-be-wife.”

The players parking lot is full as most of my teammates are lingering around the press, taking questions. We all love the post-game press interviews when we win. And since we only have to win one more game to win the division playoffs, I asked Coach to let me out of it tonight. Becca’s due date is looming and we’re only four weeks away from having our own family.

“I’m driving,” she insists as I click the remote to unlock the doors. She walks toward the truck, belly leading the way, eyeing the running board with complete resolve. She’s always had trouble climbing in, but pregnancy makes it nearly impossible. I slide up behind her and lean down, whispering, “Let me play hero for once,” before gently lifting her by the waist and helping her inside.

“Thank you.” She scoots the seat up but can’t get it close enough with the steering wheel digging into her. She lets out a frustrated sigh and starts crying. “I need to get out of here and I can’t reach the pedals.”

She opens the door and slides out, so I help her into the passenger side.

“Hey, I’m going to get a cheeseburger pizza. I don’t want bacon tonight.” I don’t really care what type of pizza, but I need to make sure she eats and she loves cheeseburger pizza. Her Mamaw bought the pizza dough in the can and then made homemade pizza when Becca was younger. So this may not beher Mamaw’s, but it’s as close as I can get tonight and it’s just the cheering up she needs.

When we pick up the pizzas she seems more relaxed, but she’s scared about something. Hell, I’m scared. In a month, we’ll be responsible for a baby.

Yawning, she leans her head against my arm and I place my hand on her knee. “Almost there. Are you going to stay awake to eat?”

She lifts her shoulder, tucking her head into the space between my arm and chest. By the time we pull into the driveway, she’s fast asleep, so I scoop her up and carry her inside, settling her gently onto the big sectional.

I grab a slice of pie and sit down at her feet, shove one piece in my mouth then take off her tennis shoes and her leggings. It’s not easy without waking her, but she either is out cold or too tired to move.

Beautiful isn’t a strong enough word to represent how she looks right now–pregnant in my jersey curled up our couch. Moving behind her, I’m careful not to jostle her awake. As I wrap my arm around her, and nestle my nose into her, I take in the familiar scent.

My fingers graze over her hips, thinking about all the stars I wished upon. All the prayers. All the mumbling to myself that if I ever got the chance with Becca, I would do anything for her, and treat her like the princess her family believes her to be. They don’t know about her devilish side that only I get to see and feel.

Becca pushes her butt into my groin and I realize my erection is pressing against her. The hum in her throat makes me smile. I gently pull her hair off her neck and peck under her ear.

She stirs and wiggles her ass and I’m not sure I can control the animalistic feeling traveling from my toes. I whisper, “My girl. In my jersey. Utter perfection.”

Turning her head, with her eyes still closed she purrs in appreciation. One simple kiss turns into two, then to three until she says, “I love the way you love me.” Her lids flutter openshowing off her brilliant blue eyes that are so easy to get lost in. They’re filled with caring, understanding and right now desire is swirling.

“Does my girl want some lovin’?”

“Do you?” she asks with a seductive breathiness.