Page 17

Ken

One Year Later

Moonlight spills through our bedroom windows, casting silver shadows across Bree's skin. She's wearing one of my old Devils jerseys and nothing else, her spiky hair adorably mussed from our shower.

"Dad was different tonight," she says, curling into my side. "The way he looked at you during dinner... I've never seen him so proud."

I pull her closer, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. "The water treatment program's success helped."

"Mmm. I wonder what he'd think if he knew you used to be a pole dancer."

"He'd probably love me more." I kiss her temple. "Your father appreciates people who work hard and never give up."

"Speaking of ne ver giving up..." She traces the scar on my shoulder from an old hockey injury. "You never told me how you started dancing."

I run my fingers along her spine, remembering. "You know my aunt raised me after my parents died in the crash. But I never told you about the day she caught me crying because I couldn't afford new hockey gear like the other kids."

Bree props herself up on an elbow, watching my face.

"She sat me down and said, 'Kenny, life's going to keep throwing punches.

Your choice is simple: let them knock you down, or learn to dodge and counter.

'" I smile at the memory. "That's when she suggested I take that job at the 'dance studio'—said it would build strength for hockey.

Legs, arms... She was right. Everything I did to survive made me stronger for the ice. "

"Your aunt sounds amazing."

"She was. Still is." I roll us so she's beneath me. "Now, want to appreciate some of those other skills I learned?"

"Always." But she stops my wandering hands. "Wait. I need to tell you something first."

I pause, studying her face in the moonlight. She looks nervous but determined, those green eyes bright with something I can't quite read.

"I want to have your baby."

The world stops. My heart actually skips a beat.

"What?" I whisper, searching her face. "I thought... didn't you once say you didn't see kids in your future?"

She laughs softly. "That was before you. Before I saw you with Charlie at the hospital, teaching him wrist shots even when he was too weak to stand. Before I watched you build that playground at the veteran housing complex just because their kids needed somewhere safe to play."

My throat tightens. "Bree..."

"I want it all with you," she continues, her voice thick with emotion. "The midnight feedings, the first steps, the tiny hockey jerseys. I want to see you teach our kid how to skate. I want to watch you be the father you never got to have."

I roll onto my back, pulling her with me so she's straddling my hips. "You're serious?"

"Dead serious." She leans down, pressing a kiss to my chest, right over my thundering heart. "So much so that I quit taking the pill."

My breath catches. "How did you know I'd be on board?"

She smiles. "The same way I know everything I need to know about you—because of the way you look at me."

I laugh, equal parts awe and arousal. "You're a genius."

"A genius who wants to make a family with you. If... if that's what you want too?"

I flip us again, pinning her to the mattress. "If that's what I want? Princess, I've been dreaming about putting a baby in you since the first time I saw you hold Tommy."

Her eyes go dark with desire. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." I kiss down her neck, pushing the jersey up. "Though maybe we should get married first. Before the baby notices we're living in sin."

She laughs, the sound turning into a gasp as I find her breast with my mouth. "We are engaged."

"Mhmm." I swirl my tongue around her nipple. "But I'm thinking we should speed up the timeline. We keep saying we’ll plan the wedding after the next campaign… but this might move things up. I want you to be Mrs. Branch before you start showing."

"Mrs. Branch?" She arches into my mouth as I suck harder. "Pretty presumptuous of you."

"Says the woman who proposed to me first." I move to her other breast, loving how her breath hitches. "Besides, you're already wearing my jersey."

My hand slides between her legs, finding her already wet. "So fucking responsive," I growl, circling her clit with my thumb. "Always ready for me."

"Only you," she pants, spreading her legs wider. "Ken, please..."

I push two fingers inside her, curling them just right. Her pussy clenches around them as I work her slowly, deliberately. "Please what?"

"I need you inside me." She pulls at my shoulders. "Need you to fuck a baby into me."

The words make my cock throb. I withdraw my fingers, positioning myself between her thighs. "Say it again."

"I want your baby." Her eyes lock with mine as I push into her. "Want you to fill me up, make me yours completely."

I start moving, each thrust deep and purposeful. She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me closer, deeper. The jersey bunches around her waist, and the sight of her wearing my number while I fuck her drives me wild.

"Touch yourself," I command, picking up the pace. "Show me how you want it."

Her fingers find her clit, working in tight circles as I pound into her. Her other hand grips my bicep, nails digging in. "So close..."

"That's it, baby." I can feel her getting tighter around my cock. "Come for me. Let me feel that pussy squeeze my cock while I fill you up."

She comes with my name on her lips, her whole body shaking. The sight of her coming undone pushes me over the edge, and I thrust deep one final time, emptying myself inside her.

I collapse beside her, pulling her close as our breathing returns to normal. She traces lazy patterns on my chest while I play with her hair.

"I love you," I murmur against her temple. "Both of you."

She laughs. "I'm not pregnant yet."

“How do you know? I vote we keep practicing. Just to be sure."

"Mmm." She yawns, curling into my chest. "Give me five minutes."

I pull the cove rs over us, holding her close. My wife. The mother of my children. The woman who saw past the stripper to the man beneath. Who chose me, fought for me, believed in me.

“Hey babe,” I finally say.

“What?”

"Come to think about it—after that performance? Pretty sure Ashton Carmichael IV is already cooking."

She smacks me with a pillow. "HELL, NO.”