Unexpected Daddy: A Bad Boy Hockey Romance Page 8

  Our hands scramble and fumble with his jeans, undoing them and pushing them down to reveal his long, rigid cock. I open my legs in the same moment he pushes my knees apart to step between them, stroking his erection as he curses to himself and has to shuffle through our mess of clothes to find the condom in his wallet. He rolls it on, flustered, and positions himself against my entrance, the slick evidence of my arousal obvious a second later when he sinks into me with ease.

  My head tilts back, a low, guttural moan escaping my lips as his cock fills me completely. Every muscle inside me is tight, clenching around him as he slides in and out of me. There are no words needed, and if they could be uttered they’d never stand a chance at describing the absolute euphoria I feel at being consumed by Craig Connelly, his delicious body, and his sexy mind.

  I’m his, I think as he thrusts into me faster, my thighs gripping his hips tightly. The thought is followed a moment later by, And he’s mine.

  I know then that Craig and I have something more here than a physical connection. Like everyone, we’ve been through things that have shaped us and molded us into who we are, good or bad. But even though we’re broken and battered by life and everything it throws at us, we’re still here, still fighting, and still surviving.

  And, now, we can fight together.

  “Oh God, Craig.” I moan his name, feeling the buildup of sensual pressure in the deepest parts of my core as he plunges into me. “Craig...”

  “It’s okay, Meg,” he grunts out against my ear, letting his tongue flick out and touch my earlobe. “Let it go, baby. Let it go.”

  His tongue sends a shiver of decadent electricity shooting through me, and I reach out with one hand to guide his hip thrusts harder and faster against me, my other hand pressed on the table behind me, steadying me as I take everything he gives.

  He’s panting loudly with each crash of our hips, and I’m gasping for air as the heady combination of pleasure and pain forces me closer to coming apart completely. The moment I realize there’s no turning back, that I’m about to careen off the cliff into blissful release, Craig lets out a low, animalistic groan.

  “Oh, Jesus, Meg!”

  Every muscle in his body clenches and constricts violently, and Craig’s mouth devours mine, muffling the cries of passion that emit from our throats as the thunderous wave of release overtakes us both, drowning us in our own physical connection.

  “Jesus Christ, Megan, you are—”

  “Yours,” I finish for him, seeing how hard it is for him to get the words out as he attempts to catch his breath. He grins at my answer, a boyish smirk edged with amusement...and tenderness. “You’re also a liar,” I add jokingly, pursing my lips to suppress my smile.

  “What? Why?” he laughs, his eyebrow arched, still beaded with sweat.

  I stare into his gorgeous chocolate eyes. “You said our next time would be in a bed,” I chuckle. “This is far from it.”

  “Well, shit, I guess you’re right.” He ducks his head and kisses me, a long, passionate kiss that reminds me of the gentleness this man also possesses when he’s not completely lost in a flurry of lust. “Good thing I plan on having plenty of time to make that up to you, too.”

  Epilogue

  Five Years Later...

  Craig

  The arena must still be cold despite the heaters suspended from the ceilings, judging by the way Meg and Ellis keep rubbing their mittens together and huddling in close to each other. But the sight of them, so close—it warms me more than I can put into words.

  I can see them from my vantage point on the bench between Grayson and Lukas, and my heart is still beating wildly from the goal I just scored. The goal that made the crowds scream and cheer.

  The goal that made my little family proud of me.

  It’s been a long road to get here, a winding one that I wasn’t sure was going to lead me here at all, but tonight is my first game played on home ice for the NHL. I’d given it all up in order to be a good father to Ellis, in order to do what I thought was right for him. For us.

  What I didn’t bargain for was the force to be reckoned with that I married. Yep, Megan agreed to be my wife two years ago. When I hear someone call her by her full name now, Megan Connelly, a bloom of pride erupts inside me. Every time. I still can’t believe she chose me. Chose us.

  Meg is the best mother to Ellis that I could have ever dreamed of. She may not have expected to meet me, or him, five years ago, but you’d never know she had reservations or second thoughts about whether she could handle that kind of responsibility now. Ellis adores her.

  So do I.

  Even more so since she’s the one who convinced me to go back to university, finish up what I’d started. Get back in the game. Or the hockey game, that is. And I did. I fought tooth and nail to get back on the college hockey team after almost a year and a half of being away from school. Thank God my track record had been spotless on paper. After that, my efforts and determination paid off.

  Each game, each goal, each night away from home...Megan has been my rock throughout all of it. And when I was finally drafted to the NHL at the ripe old age of twenty-seven, I knew that Megan had been right—I’d been holding myself back.

  Probably the most shocking move we made was to move out of Cardon Springs. We say it’s only temporary, and for that reason I made the choice not to sell the repair shop, instead choosing to hire two licensed mechanics to run the place in my absence.

  Will we eventually go back? Perhaps. But I couldn’t let Megan hold herself back, either. Especially not for me. So, we bought a place three hours away, close enough to visit my parents and Aunt Nancy when we can, but closer to the bigger city to allow Meg more lucrative job opportunities. She was snatched up by Dallas Daily the moment she sent in an application—I like to say it’s because she’s just that fucking good—and she hasn’t looked back.

  Thirty seconds left on the clock. The opposing team has just been given a penalty for high-sticking. Shit’s about to hit the fan. The goal I just scored tied the game. The tension in the arena is palpable.

  People are screaming as there’s a breakaway. Johnny, who plays defense, has the puck. In a flash, a red-uniformed player from the opposing team cuts him off. A second later, he’s smashed into the boards and the puck is lost in the shuffle.

  “Get in there!” our coach bellows across the ice.

  I lurch forward, my large hands gripping the edge of the boards so damn tight that I know my knuckles must be white inside my gloves. “C’mon!” I mutter under my breath.

  Jacob gets past the other team’s defense and skates hard, skating around the skirmish and managing to scoop the puck from within it. Every glide he takes pushes him closer to the net.

  He’s going for it.

  The goalie is watching him, readying himself, positioning his stick, bending as he awaits him.

  Jacob ducks around one of the other team’s players, members of our own team pushing them out of the way, giving him every chance to make the shot. He pulls his stick back, eyes locked, and fires the puck toward the net.

  Other than the rush of my pounding blood in my ears, I can hear nothing, see nothing. Everything stops except for the trajectory of that puck.

  The goalie’s glove comes up, and the puck sails just above it, landing against the threaded net, followed by the loud buzzer of the clock running out.

  The entire arena erupts into cheers, every person in that room hitting their feet and pounding incessantly on the boards in excitement.

  As Jacob is bombarded by the other players on the ice in victory, I steal a glance across the ice to the two people standing in the front row of benches. Ellis is jumping up and down, his eyes wide and his hands in the air, and Megan is still clapping, wearing the biggest grin I’ve ever seen on her pretty face. She reaches down and high-fives my son.

  Our son.

  This is what life is supposed to be about. Not about hiding from the things that we fear in hopes that we won’t make mist
akes, but about making mistakes and learning from them in hopes of living the fullest life we can in the amount of time we’ve got.

  This is what really living feels like, and I love it, thanks to Megan and Ellis.

  ***

  “Daddy, you did it!”

  Ellis’s shouts are heard by every person in the front lobby as I come around the corner from the locker rooms. I chuckle, just as many others do, when I see him standing up on the chair by the concession stand, struggling to see over the people bustling in and out of the lobby.

  “Technically, it was Jacob who did it,” I say with a grin, dropping my hockey bag onto the floor. “But you’re right, buddy, we won! Told you that you were my good luck charm.” The little boy jumps off the chair and races full-tilt at me. I scoop him up, hugging him tightly to me.

  “We won! We won!” he chants repeatedly. “You’re my hero!”

  I’m not sure there’s anything else my son could say that would make my throat constrict the way it is.

  “You’re my hero, too.” Megan pushes the chair back under the table it came from and steps forward, stretching up onto her tiptoes to kiss me. “Congratulations, Number Forty-One.”

  “It was a pretty good game, huh?” I say, pulling my hockey bag up onto my other shoulder and leading her out to the pickup truck with Ellis still muttering “Yes!” and “What a game!” to himself as we go.

  “It was quite a dramatic win,” Meg says excitedly. “Quite a goal you got, too.”

  I throw the bag into the truck bed, then pull the back door open to deposit Ellis into his seat, buckling him in securely before I close his door and climb into the driver’s seat. “I’m not going to lie, I think I got lucky on that one.”

  “Hardly.” Megan slides into the passenger seat, buckling her seatbelt. “You played an amazing game, baby. I’m proud of you.”

  I lean over and kiss her again, my chest swelling with pride at being able to call her my own. “Either way, I think we need to celebrate. Let’s get a bottle of that merlot stuff you like so much and go home. I’ve got a few ideas brewing.”

  “I’ll bet you do,” she chuckles, her cheeks showing a hint of crimson at the suggestion. She reaches out and touches my hand, which stops me from turning the key in the ignition. “Celebrating sounds good, Craig, but no wine, okay?”

  “Fine, we can—” The glint in her eyes makes me shut my mouth on the words. Silence spreads throughout the truck. Even Ellis is quiet, which hardly ever happens unless he’s sleeping. “Meg...”

  Her mouth curves up at the corners. She merely nods, squeezing my hand in hers.

  “Are you telling me...I mean, are you saying...” I can’t get the thought to become words on my tongue.

  “That you’re going to be a daddy again?” She whispers it low, but not like it’s a secret. Like the phrase is laced with so much emotion she can barely speak of it. “Yeah, baby, that’s what I’m telling you.”

  My eyes widen, my gaze dropping from her perfect mouth that formed the words to her lower abdomen, covered by her fleece jacket...where my son or daughter is growing inside her. “Meg...” I choke out. Then, I dive towards her, kissing her hard. “Oh God, Meg, just when I didn’t think you could make me any happier.”

  “Daddy’s kissing Mommy...ew!”

  Ellis’s outburst makes us both laugh, but it doesn’t stop me from kissing my wife once more, brushing my thumb along her cheek. “Daddy’s going to do a lot more than kiss Mommy,” I whisper to Megan. “He’s going to love her forever. Her and his little family.”

  “Our little family,” she corrects me in a raspy voice.

  “Ours,” I repeat. “Forever.”

  “Forever.”

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  OTHER BOOKS BY CASS KINCAID:

  Single Daddy.Com

  Defensive Daddy

  Puck Daddy

  Corrupting His Good Girl (His And Hers, Book 1)

  Taming Her Bad Boy (His And Hers, Book 2)

  His & Hers Complete Box Set

  Made For Sin

  Screwed In Sin City

  Rough Ride

  The Bad Boy’s Promise

  Sneak Peek of: DEFENSIVE DADDY

  CHAPTER ONE

  SAMANTHA

  My life was right on track; at least, I thought it was.

  Dream job; check. Loving fiancé; check. Beautiful son; check.

  The only problem was that my promotion came at a time when that fiancé was too busy loving someone else, and that son of mine was wailing like a banshee wondering why in the hell we were standing outside the door of an apartment he didn’t recognize as home.

  Well, that makes two of us, buddy. Because I wasn’t sure how we’d come to be here, either, renting this apartment, despising everyone I came across, and wishing I could figure out where I went wrong.

  Maybe I never would. Maybe I was destined to question myself from here on out, knowing full well that, even though I didn’t know what it was, there was something I hadn’t done right, and that something had pushed away my husband-to-be, my high school sweetheart who’d held my heart for more than a decade. And whatever it was, it’d pushed him right into the arms of another woman.

  “Come on, buddy. It’s okay, let’s get inside so I can get the rest of our boxes.”

  Levi looked up at me with red-rimmed eyes, confusion blanketing his face. It killed me that this would become the new normal for him, for us. Wiggling the key in the knob and giving a shove to the door, it finally opened. In the entryway we stood, both scanning the new place. Empty, white walls, beige carpet. There was nothing truly homey about it, but we would make do.

  “Where’s Daddy?” Levi’s voice shook as he stepped in before me, walking around the empty living area with a sense of apprehensive wonder. A smile finally crossed his face, momentarily distracted by the newness of it all. If only I could have that childlike sense of wonder again.

  “He’s working, sweetie. He’ll come later to pick you up, though.” I walked down the narrow hallway to Levi’s room and set the box down, sliding my key across the tape to open it up. “Here you go!” I hollered, peeking out from his door. “You play in here while Mommy gets the rest of our stuff, okay?”

  “Okay!” He toddled down the hallway toward me in his big fluffy coat. Laughter escaped me at the sight. Through all the darkness and sadness I’ve endured lately, he’s my light and happiness. Tears pooled in my eyes as my emotions got the best of me.

  I quickly left his room so he wouldn’t see me cry, leaning my back against the wall as though it might help me hold myself together somehow, if only for a moment. The tears crept their way down my cheeks yet again, but I wiped them away and pulled my shit together. I had to. Not just for Levi, but for myself as well.

  Making my way down the lengthy staircase to my car, I opened the trunk and instantly changed my mind. There was no way I’d be able to get the heavier boxes up all those stairs on my own. I grabbed a couple I knew I could handle and slammed the trunk closed. Ethan would have to deal with them for me when he came to pick up his son. It was his fault we were here, anyway.

  I peeked into Levi’s room. He was playing with his favorite toy airplane that his dad had got him during one of his business trips.

  The thought of Ethan being with another woman during those trips caused bile to rise in my throat. He swore to me those trips were necessary for him to work his way up in the company, and I’d foolishly believed him.

  There you go again, I thought to myself. Thinking about him, instead of focusing on what matters. Levi. Yourself. And whatever kind of new life this is that we’re building.

  It wasn’t easy to let go of what Ethan had done to me—to our family—and
I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to. Right now, I knew I wasn’t capable of it. There was no room for forgiveness in my heart; it was too full of resentment.

  And humiliation.

  I’d heard about these things happening—men getting bored with their comfortable, routine family lives and finding someone more interesting on the side. Hell, over a year ago, I’d even been consciously aware enough of the change in our relationship to ask him about it. There’d been a distance I’d never noticed before, and Ethan had started staying later at the office, going on more business trips, focusing more on his work than the family waiting for him at home.

  Paranoid. That’s what he’d called me. It’d irked me then, and it irked me even more now. He’d assured me there was no reason for me to worry about us, that we were fine. But, I guess that was easy to say when he had his blonde bombshell of a co-worker keeping him company during all those late-night hours at his office.

  The worst part? Everything probably would have continued on just as it was if he hadn’t had the balls to confess to the affair in the same measured voice one would use to admit they’d accidentally killed a fucking houseplant. I would have remained on the same blind path, ignoring the signs and pretending everything would be fine, and he’d have continued to fuck Destiny, or Delilah, or whatever the hell her name was.

  But Ethan confessed his year-long sin to me, and then chose that sin over Levi and me.

  Which led me here. In this very nice, overly modern, two-bedroom apartment with a confused toddler and a shattered heart. The scent of new paint and cleaning chemicals was strong, and despite the chilly weather outside, I opened one of the kitchen windows a crack to air out the room.

  I pried open the cardboard box I’d slid onto the counter and sighed. There wasn’t even enough household items in it to make a meal. To hell with it, I’ll go grab one more box. I’d packed them myself, so I knew the one I wanted.

  “I’ll be right back, Levi! Just going back out to the car for a quick second.” From the end of the hallway, I saw he hadn’t even looked up at the sound of my voice, too enthralled with his toy to pay me any attention. Good, at least one of us was content.