Page 2

Chapter Two

I should have followed my gut. Wyatt has a thing for red, and the red satin slip I was set to buy at the boutique made me feel sexy.

But then my bestie got in my ear, talking up the value of the lacy black and gold bodice and panty set with cut-outs in all the naughty places.

She insisted that spicing things up for the scheduled sexcapades might do the trick and turn that second line on the pee stick blue.

I’ve been trying to snap the last hook in place in the dead center of my spine for the last forty minutes, and all it’s done is make me sweaty and given my bicep a cramp.

The slip would have been so easy, and Wyatt would have looked at me with heat in his eyes.

Because . . . red . Instead, he’s going to have to help me finish dressing up just so I can lure him to take this stuff off.

The clank of keys on the counter downstairs jolts me from my last attempt. I laugh out a breath and flop on my back, the cool of the comforter against my skin a refreshing embrace.

“I’m upstairs!” I holler. I lift my head and look down at my body, at the place where my skin puckers from the emergency surgery to remove a clot in my leg four years ago, then the way my belly sticks out between the lace panties and the hard ridge of the bodice.

I don’t exercise the way I used to. I can’t. This is a disaster.

“Hey, sorry I’m late. I had an interesting practice, and—” Wyatt’s hard stop as he stands in the now open doorway to our bedroom makes me bite my lip and hold my breath.

“Is that good shocked or did you fall and can’t get up shocked?” I really can’t tell from his speechless stare. And my low opinion of myself is leaning toward the latter.

“Uh, I’m pretty sure this is a I suddenly love black and gold stare,” he says, pulling his Coolidge High T-shirt up over his head in one smooth motion as he moves toward the bed.

In under a second, he’s slipped his hands under my knees and pulled me to the edge of the bed.

The movement knocks my breath away a little and I giggle, feeling a bit like a teenager, embarrassed for being so bold.

“Are you sure? I feel silly,” I say, the sudden chill of cool air against my exposed pussy reminding me that these panties are crotchless. I cover my face with both palms, and my cheeks are hot. I should not have listened to Tasha.

Wyatt’s hand covers mine, peeling my fingers away, his subtle grin pulling up one side of his mouth, his five o’clock shadow looking all sorts of inviting.

“You should definitely not feel silly, Peyt. You should feel a lot of things, which I’m about to make sure you do, but silly is not one of them. You are fucking . . .” He bites his lower lip and shakes his head as the dimple dents his right cheek. How can a man be both sexy and adorable at once?

“You better finish that sentence, Wyatt Stone. I’m fucking what?” Okay, the warmth is creeping into my body now. Maybe this outfit will do. And maybe my belly isn’t quite as pudgy as I imagine. And maybe?—

“Ahhh,” I sigh out as Wyatt’s thumb gently strokes between my legs. My knees part at his touch.

“I figured you were done listening to me talk,” he hums, pushing my legs farther apart as he drops to his knees and brings his mouth to my skin. “Do you want me to talk? Or would you rather I . . .”

His tongue flicks against my tingling skin, and goose bumps rush down my legs.

The sensation is enough to make me want to press my thighs into him and hold him hostage against me.

He must sense my muscles twitching because his hands rush along the insides of my thighs, holding me apart for him to feast. And feast he does.

“Oh shit, Wy!” I arch my back as his tongue assaults me in the best way, wasting no time diving inside as his mouth covers the rest of me, suckling me in.

I bite my knuckles to stifle my cries, knowing full well that my mother is still working with the horses outside and could be passing between the guest house and their home any second now.

Sure, we’re married. Five years in. And yeah, my parents know we have sex and blah, blah, blah.

The thought of one of them hearing us still makes my cheeks go beet red.

“Come here,” Wyatt commands, slipping a hand under the arch of my back and holding my lower body tight as he buries his face between my thighs.

I lift on my palms, no longer worried about the missing hook on the back of the bodice.

I move my right hand into Wyatt’s hair, gripping the long waves and holding him to me as the first wave of pleasure threatens to knock me back again.

He flicks his tongue against my pulsing pussy, forcing me to take every single incredible second that passes until I’m soaking wet and exhausted.

“I hope you saved some of that for my cock,” Wyatt says, running his forearm along his mouth to wipe away my wetness as he stands and tugs down his joggers and boxers.

“I hope you saved the important stuff for making a baby,” I say, unable to help myself from reminding both of us of the mission at hand.

Wyatt’s eyes flicker as his gaze hits mine, and my heart patters like a drum break.

I don’t want to make sex feel like a job, but I can’t help constantly dwelling on the end goal.

It’s all I think about. I want a baby more than I wanted to walk after my accident.

Wyatt hates that it’s been a struggle for us, and he worries about how anxious it makes me.

His gaze drifts down the center of my chest as his hand wraps around his shaft. I fall back on my elbows, forcing myself to stay in the heat of the moment, to not drift back to the self-conscious thoughts about how my clothes fit, or rather don’t fit.

“I like this.” He doesn’t bring his gaze up to mine. Instead, his heated stare locks on the small cutouts on either side of the bodice that expose my pebbled nipples.

“Oh, this part?” I hum, lying on my back and circling my hard tips with my thumbs. I pinch myself on either side, pulling my tits up and letting myself enjoy the rush of pleasure.

“Yeah, I like that part,” Wyatt says, swatting my hands out of the way. He quickly tugs on my right nipple with his thumb and index finger, coaxing my back to arch again.

The tip of Wyatt’s cock brushes against my pussy as he pinches my nipple again, and I whimper loudly.

I don’t even care who hears me. I’ve let myself get lost. I’m fully in this, not for the results but for the instant gratification.

For the intimacy. For having this man who has only grown more chiseled, more worn, rougher, and rugged.

Wyatt has me drunk with need, and I deserve to be.

Right now, I’m nothing more than a woman who wants to feel.

And when Wyatt slides inside of me with a hard thrust, I . . . feel . . . everything.

“Wy!” I cry out as he rocks his hips, sliding out of me completely before driving in again.

“I need to touch you,” he growls, ripping the bodice open.

The fragile hooks that I spent an hour trying to connect tear apart as he pulls the bodice down so he can cup my full breasts in both of his palms. His body leans into me, his hips thrusting as he swells inside of me, and I fall over the edge again just as my insides warm with his cum.

My fingertips trace the ridges along his muscular back, his skin sticky with perspiration as he pumps into me until he’s empty and exhausted.

His heavy body pins me to the bed, and I wrap my legs around him to hold him to me for a few extra moments.

I love it when he lingers inside of me, and yeah, partly because my mind wanders to the possibility of this being the moment our baby is made.

But it’s also the familiar fullness he gives me, the perfect fit of our bodies together.

The years have only made our bodies match one another more.

Wyatt lifts himself up, resting on his forearms as he presses his lips to the center of my chest. He kisses his way to my right breast, sucking on my nipple one last time and leaving it with a soft bite before blowing it cool.

My hands move to his jaw, cupping his cheeks as my thumbs feel along the rough stubble that carves around his chin. He lifts his head enough to meet my eyes, then turns his mouth into my palm, kissing my wrist.

“I may have ruined that top part,” he says with a playful wince. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. It didn’t really fit anyway.”

His eyes squint as his head tilts a hint.

“Don’t do that.” He pulls his lips in tight and shakes his head slightly.

“What?” I know what—but it’s embarrassing to be called out for not loving your own body. Maybe embarrassing isn’t the right word. Maybe it’s painful. And I know his reprimand comes from a place of love, but it still causes a hard stop in my chest to hear it.

Wyatt crawls up my body until my shoulders and head are caged between his arms. He drops his forehead to mine, and my eyes flutter shut.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, and I force a smile on my face because it’s not his fault I don’t completely believe it for myself.

“Thank you,” I mutter, lifting my chin enough to press my lips to his.

Our chaste kiss lingers for a few seconds before my phone begins buzzing on the nightstand. I blink my eyes open as Wyatt pulls away, shifting to sit next to me. He grabs my phone and lets out a heavy sigh, turning it to flash Tasha’s photo my way.

“Hey, at least she didn’t call five minutes earlier. She’s getting better,” I joke, taking the phone from him and answering her call.

“Hey, Tash.”

I barely have time to get her name out before the words start rushing out of her. I smack Wyatt’s bare ass as he gets out of bed, and he rolls his shoulders and neck before shooting me a tempting glare.

“Don’t start the engine when you can’t drive,” he teases, his lips puckering for an air kiss as he makes his way toward our bathroom.

“Are you even listening to me?”

I roll to my side and move my phone to my other ear.

“Yeah, sorry. I was just talking to Wyatt.”

I brace myself for her usual interrogation and jokes about interrupting us during sex. She thinks her timing is funny.

“So, he told you, then? I mean, this is wild, right? Portland? I couldn’t believe it when Bryce called Whisk, but I mean, it is what he’s wanted.

He’s been working so hard. And he’s not that old for a lineman.

He has a lot of good years left, and he’s probably in better shape now than he was in college, and?—”

“Wait, Portland . . . as in . . . for football? Tash, that’s amazing!”

I may have missed more of her early conversation than I admit to.

Is Whiskey getting his shot with the new expansion team?

He’s wanted this for so long, and I could tell when he and Wyatt played in that summer league in Texas how much football was still a part of him.

Honestly, it was incredible seeing the two of them on the field again together.

I think it meant a lot to Wyatt, too. He says he has no regrets, but I see the way he lingers on the field after practices.

He reminds me of my dad when he finally left the game. It’s a bit like grieving.

“Yeah, didn’t Wyatt tell you where? Maybe he’s getting to that.”

I sit up and snag a T-shirt from the floor, slipping it on so I don’t feel like a total hooker walking around the house.

“No, he didn’t tell me about that. He just got home, though, so?—”

“Oh, shoot! Okay, well, pretend I didn’t say anything. He probably wants to tell you himself. So, act surprised. Really sell it.”

“Ohhhh-kayyyy.” My mouth twists into a wry smile because it doesn’t seem like that big of a deal. I mean, yeah, we both love Whiskey, and I’m sure he’s excited to tell me about his friend’s big break. But I don’t know that he cares if Tasha beat him to it.

“We have so much to plan! Do you want to fly out together? We could get a vacation rental again, like Texas. Oh, my God, this is so exciting! The boys are back! NFL wives . . . together!”

My mouth freezes, along with the words caught in my throat.

My lips hang open as I work backward from my friend’s last ramblings, unable to catch up in time to respond before she hits me with, “Yeah, call me later. I want to hear all about what Bryce said to Wyatt. I guess the Portland coach was really impressed. Okay, love you!”

My hand falls to my side along with my phone. The shutters are opened to show off the sky across the room, and I stare at the pink clouds that peek through the top few slats. I can’t even blink.

The shower shuts off, and I turn my head just enough to see Wyatt’s form step from the shower as he wraps a towel around his waist. I’m finding it hard to breathe, my mind racing in two polar-opposite directions—wanting to hold on to blissful hope that my husband and I just made a baby, and preparing myself for his big news.

I didn’t even know he was trying to make a comeback, that he wanted to give it another shot.

And if he leaves, what does that mean for us?

For our not-quite-yet-real family? What if we miss our chance?

“What did my favorite friend of yours want?” He steps around me, stopping in front of me as he runs his hands through his wet hair.

“She, uh,” I let out a short laugh, blinking my gaze to meet his. “She said Portland is giving Whiskey a tryout.”

His hands drop to the back of his neck, threading together as his eyes lock on mine. He’s never been able to lie to me. It’s one of the things I love most about us . And right now, his eyes are telling me everything—Tasha’s right. Portland wants him, too.

His hands fall to his sides as his chin drops a tick. He chews at the inside of his cheek, his forehead etched with worry lines.

“You already know. And before you question anything, I was going to tell you. I got a little— He waves a hand between us as he chuckles.

“Distracted,” I answer for him.

“Ha, yeah. Just a little.” His gaze drops to the floor, and he lifts his shoulders.

“Do you want this?” My voice sounds more panicked than it should. It’s not fair. I can’t mask it, though.

He shrugs again.

“I don’t know. Honestly? Right now, I wish Bryce had never shown up, and that I never agreed to play in that summer league with Whisk. But it’s too late to undo any of that, so I guess . . .”

“You guess . . .”

His eyes snap back to mine, and for the first time since we were kids and he was trying to find his way as the new kid in town, Wyatt Stone looks lost.

He moves toward me, stepping between my knees and wrapping his arms around my head, hugging me with my cheek against his stomach. His head falls forward enough for him to press his lips to the crown of my hair, and long, weighted breaths fill his lungs and stay there.

“Tell me what to do, Peyt? Cuz I don’t know. I just don’t know.”