Page 39 of Rematch (Stingrays Hockey #3)

“I wouldn’t,” she reassured him. “But if you thought…when you saw us… Why did you come back?”

“Because I couldn’t stay away. I thought when I walked in here, you’d tell me that you’d fallen in love with someone else. I needed to hear that, knew it was the only way I’d ever be able to move on. I didn’t expect…”

Chelsea looked at Lennon, sleeping in his stroller. “Him.”

Preston smiled down at his son. “I expected to have my heart broken, not to find it.”

That was the greatest thing Chelsea had ever heard.

“I told Rick I don’t want to see him anymore, not even as friends. Our families—especially his mother,” she amended, “are just going to have to find a way to deal.”

It took a moment, but Preston’s troubled expression faded, and that easygoing grin that never failed to excite her returned. “Yeah, I guess they are. But don’t worry. I’m great with mothers. I’ll find a way to win yours over…somehow.”

She laughed. “If anyone can win Ellen Murphy over, it’s you.”

He checked on Lennon, who was still sound asleep, then approached her. “Now, are those cupcakes for anyone or…”

She gestured at the platter, letting him know he could help himself. He reached for the closest, which was the one she’d offered Rick, and polished it off in two large bites, his closed eyes and moan of delight doing wicked things to her libido.

Everything about this man turned her on, and the crazy part was, most of it wasn’t even sexual. She swore she popped out a new egg every time she watched him cuddle Lennon in his arms. Or watched him skate across the ice—she and Dad were officially hockey fanatics these days.

Or even now, as he grabbed another one of her cupcakes, grinning like a kid getting dessert before dinner.

He demolished the second cupcake as quickly as the first. “Holy shit , those are good.”

She laughed, then reached toward him. “You have a little frosting…right there.” She started to wipe it off for him, but Preston grasped her wrist, pulling her closer.

“Might work better if you licked it off,” he said, his voice as rich and velvety as her cupcakes.

Chelsea didn’t even bother refusing because she really, really wanted to taste that frosting from his lips. Lifting on her tiptoes, she moved closer, Preston leaning forward to meet her halfway. Her tongue darted out, swiping away the sweet confectionary sugar and butter, and her moan matched his.

His hand gripped the side of her throat, his intention clear.

He was going to kiss her, and all the common sense in the world wasn’t going to stop Chelsea.

She was tired of fighting this attraction.

And Preston wasn’t making it any easier.

The man was always touching her. Like when he took her hand to help her out of the car and held fast. Or when his hand rested on the small of her back as they walked beside each other.

Or the way he rubbed her shoulders whenever she was tired or tense.

Every little touch had worked its way past her defenses, so much so, she was struggling to recall why kissing him would be a bad idea.

Chelsea waited until his lips were a mere inch from hers before turning her face away so that they landed on her cheek. She felt his sigh, knew he was misinterpreting her actions as rejection.

Which made it even harder for her to keep a straight face when she reached behind her. She felt around until she found another cupcake. Running her finger over the top, she gathered a large dollop of icing, lifting it to her own lips.

Chelsea painted the lower one with the white frosting, grinning at him.

“Oops,” she said. “Now I’m a mess too.”

Preston’s eyes darkened with hunger. “I better clean that up.” His tongue tickled as he licked every bit of icing. “You’re delicious.”

There was something so freeing and fun about flirting with him that she couldn’t resist driving the heat even higher. She pushed the finger that was still sticky with frosting into her mouth, sucking it suggestively as Preston watched.

“Dirty girl,” he murmured, pushing her against the counter at her back. “You realize you’re playing with fire, don’t you? That rule of yours…”

She gazed up at him through lowered lashes. Releasing her finger with a pop, she ran her hands down his chest, tightening her fists in his shirt, pulling him closer. “Bend it. Hard.”

Preston didn’t need to be asked twice. He lowered his head, claiming her lips in a kiss that was incendiary and rough, almost bruising in its intensity. Ever since Christmas, he’d respected her wishes, keeping things between them platonic, never stepping over the line she’d drawn.

All that was out the window now.

He pulled her hair tie out so that her chestnut curls fell loose around her shoulders. Then he ran his fingers through them, gripping her tresses tight enough that her scalp tingled. He made her feel naughty and wicked and wild, and she loved it.

Their tongues danced together as Preston wedged his thick, hard thigh between her legs. Chelsea gave up fighting for control, taking what she needed, what she wanted. Her core rocked back and forth on that thigh as she sought pressure against her clit. Preston grabbed one hip, moving her faster.

Every now and then, her thigh brushed against his crotch, his erection full-blown. She ran her hand over it, applying pressure, wanting to make him feel as good as he was making her feel, but Preston pulled her fingers away.

“No. This isn’t about me. Right now, all I want is to see you falling apart. You’re so fucking beautiful when you come. I’ve spent too many months imagining it over and over in my memories. I need to see it again.”

He placed his lips against hers, devouring her again as she gyrated madly against his leg.

When Chelsea’s breathing became labored, she broke the kiss in order to draw in some air. Preston growled—an honest-to-God growl—his lips finding hers again, refusing to let her go.

She felt light-headed and dizzy, but decided breathing was over-fucking-rated. Moving harder against his thigh, Chelsea gasped, her pussy clenching, her clit pulsing.

“I…think…” she breathed against his lips, even though he was still kissing her.

Holy crap. She was going to come. Just from dry-humping his leg.

How was that even possible?

Preston’s lips traveled to the side of her neck, his breath hot in her ear. “Come undone for me, Joy.”

She loved it when he called her that.

“Please,” she gasped, not even sure what she was begging for.

Preston somehow knew. She felt him pop the button on her jeans, sliding down the zipper. His fingers burrowed their way beneath the elastic of her panties, stroking her clit as she continued to ride his thigh.

“God!” she cried out.

A full minute didn’t pass before she shattered, the orgasm ripping through her like a tornado.

Her body trembled as he drew out the experience, his fingers playing her like a guitar.

As far as orgasms went, that one was in her top five.

Which wasn’t surprising, considering the other four spots were also held by Preston-induced climaxes.

Slipping his hand from her jeans, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her as he lowered his leg. Her thighs instinctively tightened together, hating the loss.

Chelsea sank into his embrace, her right cheek pressed against his broad chest as she tried to recover. She heard the hard, steady thud of his heart, the sound of it calming, relaxing.

Once she found her strength, she lifted her head, looking at him. “I…” She didn’t have a clue what to say, because now that reality was returning, so was that inkling of fear she couldn’t seem to shake.

Preston cupped her cheek, gazing deeply into her eyes. “Don’t regret that, Chelsea. It wasn’t wrong.”

She bit her lower lip, then realized his words were wasted. She’d yet to regret a single thing she’d done with this man. “I don’t regret it,” she said, hoping to reassure him.

“I know you’re worried, and I understand the reasons behind that anxiety. I intended to give you all the time you needed, but…” Preston shrugged, a small grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “You and your cupcakes are too damn sexy.”

She laughed loudly, realizing there hadn’t been nearly enough lighthearted fun in her life until this past month.

Chelsea had spent the last year working her way through a veritable roll call of emotions.

From homesickness after the move to Paris, shock over the pregnancy, grief over Agnes’s death, stress over moving back to Baltimore, wonder after Lennon’s birth, regret over not knowing how to find Preston, and a whole shit-ton of exhaustion and second-guessing as she tried to work her way through the minefield of first-time motherhood.

It had been twelve months of the scariest fucking roller coaster known to man.

With Preston back in her life, peace had returned to her world, and it brought joy and laughter along for the ride.

“My first review,” she joked, holding up her hand as if reading it aloud from a sign. “Stingrays left winger, Preston Jacobson, says Sugar and Spice’s cupcakes are too damn sexy.”

Preston laughed. “Hey, I’ll skywrite that if you want, but you don’t need my words to sell your cupcakes. One bite of those and you’ll have fans for life.”

She reached up on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. “You make me happy.”

“Ditto.” His smile in response to her compliment warmed her even more. Before either of them could say more, Lennon’s quiet cry distracted them.

Preston beat her to the stroller, lifting him into his arms, cooing softly, and Lennon instantly quieted.

Chelsea was amazed by how quickly Preston and Lennon had bonded. Not even Ethan, who’d been around since Lennon’s birth, was able to soothe him so quickly.

“He’s probably hungry,” Preston said. “It’s been a few hours.”

Chelsea nodded, walking to the refrigerator to fetch a bottle. Preston claimed one of the new kitchen stools, settling in to feed Lennon so that she could finish frosting the last few cupcakes.

Silence descended for a few minutes, Preston’s gaze traveling back and forth between her and Lennon. She got the sense he wanted to say something.

“What is it?” she finally asked.

“You’re really unhappy living with your parents?”

Chelsea shrugged. “I wouldn’t say I’m completely miserable. It’s just…challenging. Mom is very opinionated about childrearing and my personal life.”

“Is she Team Rick?”

“No. I wouldn’t say that. But…well, she doesn’t really know you.

” Chelsea was aware that was a lame answer.

Preston had met her parents, of course, and he’d stopped by the house a few times, usually prior to hitting the road for an away game, but other than that, all their time together was spent at his place.

Which was her fault.

Preston’s condo had quickly become her happy place, because she was free to be the mother she wanted to be without dealing with her own mom’s scrutiny. Plus, watching Preston with their son was her favorite thing—way better than anything TV offered.

“Your place offers me a respite because I hate confrontation, and my mom is sort of driving me crazy. The reason I try not to push back is because she really does help me a lot, with laundry and babysitting Lennon two days a week. I’ve been focusing too much on the negative when it comes to her.

I know all of her comments and concerns come from a place of love. ”

“It’s been a lot of changes…for both of you,” Preston said.

He was sweet to say that.

“Chelsea, I know we said we’d take things slow, and I’m fine with that.”

The strain in his face told Chelsea that was a lie.

“But the more I’m with him, the more it hurts when I’m not. Christmas night was…” He ran a hand through his hair. “It was the best night of my life. I’d like…I want more nights with Lennon.”

“I get that.” She didn’t mention that Christmas night was high on her list of perfect nights too.

Today was the first day Preston had taken Lennon on his own. It was obvious things had gone well, judging by the pictures he’d texted and how content their son was with his father.

Preston blew out a long, slow breath, clearly gearing up to ask for what he wanted. She understood why he was so hesitant to start this conversation, but it was time they had it.

“You want to keep him some nights.” Her insides quivered at the thought of sleeping away from Lennon.

Preston rose from the stool, approaching her with Lennon still nestled in his arms. “Not alone. I wouldn’t ask that of you, because I know you’re not ready for that.

” He lifted one shoulder. “But I’ve only seen the nighttime routine once, one bath, one midnight feeding.

I liked it, liked being a part of that.”

“It was nice,” she agreed.

“I was thinking…maybe you and Lennon could move in with me . You can live in the guest bedroom with him,” he hastily added. “I know the two of you share a room at your parents’ place. It would add a whole slew of time I get to spend with him. Even if it’s just watching him sleep.”

It was a fair request, as well as a solution to a problem she hadn’t had time to solve.

She’d resolved to move out sooner rather than waiting until summer.

Preston was offering her not only a place to stay but the same kind of help her parents had been providing.

Someone to share the load of caring for Lennon.

Chelsea couldn’t think of a single reason why she shouldn’t say yes.

Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Staying at his place and attempting to sleep across the hall from him was going to be an experiment in torture.

But, from Lennon’s perspective, she knew including Preston in all the things he just mentioned would only continue to strengthen the bond between father and son, and she wanted that desperately—for both of them.

“I think we could do that. Maybe a trial run? See how it goes?”

Preston wasn’t able to mask his surprise at her unexpected agreement, but he recovered quickly, smiling widely. “Okay.”

“Maybe…” She bit her lower lip. “Maybe we shouldn’t bend that rule any more just yet, then. It would add an extra wrinkle…if we’re going to give this living-together thing a fair shake.”

Preston was slower to respond to that request. He made no secret of his hopes for the two of them, and as much as Chelsea wanted to just say fuck it and give in completely, she wasn’t quite there yet.

“Okay,” he said again. “I’ll agree to that—if you’ll agree to move in tomorrow.”

She laughed. “Tomorrow?” Then she recalled Erika’s and Ainsley’s remarks about how quickly their Stingrays had moved them in.

“You know what? Sure. Why not?”

Preston raised a fist in victory. “Hell yeah!”

Then he bent down to kiss her on the cheek before snatching yet another cupcake.