Page 61 of Branded (Breakers Hockey)

Twenty-Seven

Raph

Her hand hadn’t left mine since she’d finished with her cream puffs.

They were delicious—the two that I’d allowed myself to eat, considering it was the middle of the season and I’d already eaten my body weight, it seemed, in delicious Thai food. Plus, they were hers. I’d arranged for her to have them, so they were for her.

But next time I was in the city for a game, I was picking some up for myself and the guys.

Maybe some I’d have filled with that passion fruit cream.

Maybe I’d fill a couple with other things—mustard, maybe, relish…apparently, I could only think of sandwich condiments. But it’d be a good way to get Smitty back for being a pain in the ass…and it would get me back to my old tricks.

Or pranks.

Plus, I’d get another chance to bring Beth a treat that had started her smiling and kept her smiling the entire helicopter flight home.

Or maybe that was just this night.

It was magical…and not just the time we’d spent together.

It was more, as though I’d gotten behind her walls.

She’d given. She’d talked to me, not putting me off or closing down.

But she’d actually talked about her life in New York before she’d moved to Baltimore—her favorite places, her job, the things she’d liked to do, her regular haunts.

Not just trying to make me laugh or talk about myself. She’d shared.

So, I was riding my own high, feeling like I’d won the game to win all games.

Except, it was more important than any game I’d ever played.

So, I was enjoying the moment, soaking in the gains I’d made, but I was also planning the next steps, how to gain momentum and not lose ground.

“Raph?”

I blinked, realized I’d been so lost in my head that I’d driven us back to my place, and shit, that wasn’t what I’d been planning on doing. I was going to drive Beth home, coax a kiss out of her, and then leave her on her doorstep because I had to catch an early afternoon flight and it was late.

Instead, we were sitting inside my garage, the engine of my car still running even as the heavy metal door slid closed behind us.

“Just saying, if you’re trying for murder, the proper time was before you shelled out for dinner, helicopter rides, and specialty cream puffs.”

Funny.

Always making me smile.

“I meant to take you home,” I said. “I didn’t want?—”

“I wanted,” she said. “I want .”

My breath caught…and truthfully, my dick went hard.

“And the bonus is that here is closer than my place.”

“I have to fly out tomorrow.”

“I know,” she said. “So, I’ll catch a Lyft in the morning.” Her fingers flexed slightly. “Or you can drop me at home.”

“Or,” I whispered, aware that I could be pushing too much too fast, “you could just stay and hang here and borrow my car if you need to get home.”

“Your car?”

“Smitty and I carpool.”

That was a lie, and my friend would give me no little amount of shit for it. But if it meant that Beth would stay, would sleep in my bed, would make a small place for herself in my home…

Yeah, I’d gladly shovel it.

Gladly .

“How about I stay tonight?” she said softly. “And tomorrow we’ll play it by ear.”

That sounded…far better than anything I could have hoped for.

“Works for me,” I murmured, hitting the button to turn off my car and then getting out, rounding the hood.

Beth’s slender ankles were just visible beneath the gap at the bottom of the door as she unbuckled and stepped out of her side.

In flats, because she was Beth and carrying Pru and Marcel’s precious cargo, so of course she was.

But they were no less sexy, and neither was the dress, showing her curves, showing her belly, a belly that didn’t bring a twinge of pain any longer.

I’d come to understand it for exactly what it was.

Love.

Beth’s love.

So, it brought me pride and respect and love .

Beth took my hand as she moved around the door, and I drew her close and inhaled deeply. “Love the way you smell, sugarpie.”

She smiled, tapped her nose. “You do pretty good yourself. And that’s coming from this bloodhound of a nose. I feel like I can be a master perfumer.”

I tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I heard that can happen during pregnancy.”

“Lucky”—she pressed closer, and my cock twitched at the contact—“my body likes the way you smell.”

My body liked hers. Period. The way she smelled, how she felt, every single inch of her. It liked her a whole fucking lot.

But…

Slow.

Causing no panic. No pain. No unwelcome dredging of the past.

I just wanted us to build a foundation so that when she was comfortable, she could come to me, share that past when she was ready.

Didn’t mean my dick wasn’t hard for her though.

Didn’t mean my dick didn’t throb when she pressed herself to me.

But instead of lowering my head and kissing her like I wanted to, I started to back away, to lead her into the house and to bed.

It was a late night.

She was growing two babies.

She needed her rest.

“You know,” she murmured, when I’d flicked on the kitchen lights and started to draw her through the space, “I’ve been thinking about these counters.”

That had me frowning, not following. “Okaaay,” I began.

“And I’ve been thinking about my dress.”

I had too.

Been thinking many, many things, but mostly about how it would look when it was crumpled into a pile on the floor.

“Yeah,” I agreed, and no lie, my voice ended up a rasp as she slipped her hand free, trailing the fingers that had been laced with mine just moments before across the counter.

I wanted them drifting across my chest, lower, dipping down beneath the waistband of my pants, wrapping around my cock, stroking hard and fast and?—

“I’ve been thinking about how my dress was made.”

That I hadn’t been thinking about.

That I wouldn’t ever think about.

On sexy. Off better.

“I was thinking about how if I pull this”—my gaze jerked to her, watched her hand drift toward her middle—“then my entire dress will come loose.”

Wait, what?

But then her fingers, nails painted a bright red to match her lipstick, were moving again, drifting along the bodice of her dress, closing around a thin strip of fabric, and tugging.

Holy shit.

It was like a fucking magic trick.

One second my woman was fully clothed.

The next, the material was open, sliding down her arms, puddling to the floor, and looking damned good there.

But that held my focus for only a heartbeat because Beth was there, and while she wasn’t naked, the little clothing she was wearing did nothing to cover her and absolutely everything to enhance, to tease, to tempt.

Black lace that cut so low her nipples seemed as though they would pop free with just one deep breath. Fire engine red ribbons attached to black mesh stockings. Panties that were barely there and?—

She turned around.

Sweet Christ.

Her underwear had a tiny red bow just at the precipice of both cheeks.

“So, I was thinking”—she spun back to face me, and fucking hell, those nipples did pop free, not with a deep breath, though, but rather, with an arch of her back—“that last time didn’t go so well, so maybe we can try a different position.”

My cock twitched, and I tried to stop to think.

But I barely had any blood left in my brain and the gears of my mind were working really slow.

Slow. Slow.

Right. I was supposed to be slowing things down.

Like a first date via a helicopter and taking her to my house was slow.

Not the point.

“Honey,” I whispered. “I think we’d better take things slow.”

Silence.

Then, “Do you want to take them slow? Is this too much?”

Concern in her eyes and voice and none of the liquid desire from a moment before. Fuck. “This isn’t too much,” I said, stepping close, even as I tried to keep my hands to myself. “But I don’t know what happened last time, sugarpie. I don’t want to do something that might trigger?—”

“It wasn’t you.”

I blinked.

“I was thinking about everything in my past and how that moment was so good. And I started spiraling, knowing that it couldn’t last, that something would ruin it”—a breath that brushed her breasts across my chest—“that I would ruin it,” she whispered.

“Because I always ruin the good things in my life.”

“Baby—”

“I’m starting to realize that was shit implanted by my stepdad, because of what happened to my mom.”

I held my breath.

“I thought I could bury it.” A beat. “I thought I should bury it. But…” Her lips turned up into a sad smile. “I’m finally starting to think that’s a bad habit.”

I slid my hands down her arms. “I’m glad.”

“Now.” She exhaled, started to reach for her dress. “I know I killed the mood, so we should just call it a night and?—”

I halted her with a hand on her chin. “Freeze.”

Now she inhaled. “What?”

I trailed a finger over her collarbone, dipped it down and used it to circle her nipple. “I have this perfectly good countertop and my woman just performed a fucking spectacular magic trick a couple of minutes ago.”

That breath slid out.

“See,” I murmured, dropping my head, and trailing my mouth along her throat. “I have this fantasy, and it involves a counter and my woman naked and?—”

She reached between us, pushed up slightly on my jaw, lifting my head. “ You see,” she began. “ I have this fantasy and it involves a countertop and me naked and my man thrusting into me hard and deep and fast.”

Blood boiled.

My cock got harder.

Slow disappeared.

Hard and deep and fast took over.

And…it turned out that both of our fantasies were the same.