Winger

by Samantha Whiskey

  “Thank you,” he whispered, almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

  I chuckled again. “You do realize you just agreed to have a highly-hormonal, highly-pregnant woman move into your house? I mean, you know how tough I was to handle before you knocked me up.”

  “Oh, don’t worry.” He grinned, trailing a finger over the line of my jaw. “I can handle you.”

  Another shiver raked my skin as he winked and turned out the door.

  I watched him walk away, the muscles in his back so gorgeously evident from the tight black shirt he wore.

  I can handle you.

  Well, I’m glad one of us was confident because living with Warren?

  The sexy-as-sin, best lay of my life, father of my unborn child?

  That was going to be some kind of newly invented torture, and I wasn’t sure if I’d be strong enough to resist the temptation.

  Chapter 4

  Warren

  “How many pairs of shoes do you own?” I asked as I hefted the sixth and final clear plastic tub from her SUV.

  All of them filled with shoes—kitten heels and fuck-me heels and boots. Each pair pristine and organized in their own box. A mental image of her wearing any of them—and only them—while I feasted on her from my knees, flashed red hot in my mind.

  Fuck. Lock it up.

  Rory and Gage had helped move her stuff into my house earlier today without hesitation. Each of them had their fair share of advice for living with a pregnant woman, but it was hard to know how much of it I should follow. Jeannine and I weren’t like Bailey and Gage or Rory and Paige.

  Nine hadn’t fallen madly in love with me and then decided to have my child.

  No.

  I was lucky she was allowing me to give her a place to stay while her apartment was renovated. She was successful and resourceful—she could’ve shot down my offer and stayed with one of the girls or sublet another apartment until hers was fixed.

  That notion alone gave me hope.

  “Are you complaining?” She asked, falling into step behind me as I sat the tub down on my already crammed dining room table.

  Most of her things—furniture, books, electronics—were now neatly stored in the guest house’s master bedroom. The one I’d never furnished because I never had overnight guests. But there were some things she’d demanded stay with her. The killer cookware, for sure, her clothes, and the many bins filled with shoes.

  “Of course, not,” I said, resting an elbow on the lid of the box. “But are you sure you don’t want these to go into storage with the rest of your stuff? The guest house isn’t that far—”

  She cut a glare that silenced my words.

  “Point taken.” I raised my hands in defense. “It’ll take me a beat to clear the suits out of my master closet, but I’ll get it done.” I turned, heading to do just that.

  “No,” she said, and I spun back around. “You don’t need to clear out your closet,” she said, running her hand over the clear tubs. “I’ll take the guest room. Besides, I can’t exactly wear half of these.” She sighed. “I mean I could, but I wouldn’t dare risk falling off my heels and hurting the baby.”

  A warmth pulsed in my chest and I dared a glance down at her tummy. Something I’d avoided since she’d arrived twenty minutes ago.

  Every beat of my heart screamed mine, mine, mine.

  I wanted to run my hands over her belly and talk to the baby I never knew I wanted.

  Wanted to feel what she felt—our lives coming together inside her to create something short of a miracle.

  Damn.

  I’d never thought anything would have the power to change me so drastically and so quickly, but here I was, moving Jeannine into my house. A place I’d never even brought a woman before—except Lettie and the girls—let alone allowed one to sleep over.

  If I was being honest, those six months I spent thinking about Jeannine, most of those fantasies included sleeping with her here.

  In my room, in my kitchen, on the damn dining room table now covered in all things her.

  And that was before I knew about the baby.

  “I just want them close,” she said. “So I can take them out and look at them and remember the life I used to have.” She gasped, her eyes flaring wide as her words caught up with her. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she hurried to continue. “I’m happy.” She rubbed her belly, almost like she was apologizing to the baby. “I’m so beyond happy—”

  “Hey,” I said, stepping toward her with my hands outstretched like I was approaching a cornered animal. “It’s okay to miss your old life.” I stopped with a few inches between us. “It’s only been six months,” I said. “This will likely take more than a lifetime to get used to.”

  A small laugh and she nodded.

  “I know you’re right,” she said. “I never want to sound like I have regrets. Because I don’t.” She locked her gaze on mine, the severity in those blue eyes shaking me. A few blinks and it softened. “We can put these in one of your guest room closet if that’s all right.”

  “You’re carrying my child,” I said, no room for argument in my tone. “You’re sleeping in my bed. No guest room.”

  A tiny sigh escaped her lips, and she darted her tongue out to wet them.

  Heat shot straight to my dick with that innocent little move, and it took every ounce of willpower I possessed not to reach out and bury my hands in her silky hair.

  To claim her mouth.

  Taste her in more ways than a kiss.

  “It has better back support,” I said, my voice a damn near whisper.

  “Okay,” she said. “But we can still put the shoes somewhere else. As long as it’s a closet and not some darkened storage unit.”

  I laughed. “You feel like a master bedroom in the guesthouse is a storage unit?”

  “Well, it is now, isn’t it?” She popped her hands on her hips.

  I tilted my head and scooped up the same box I’d just sat down. “Guess you have a point,” I said, heading to the guest room across from mine. “This space is free.” The closet didn’t have a thing in it save for some extra bedding my mom had bought as a house-warming gift after I’d purchased the place.

  “Perfect,” Jeannine said, peeking around the corner as I opened the door and sat the first tub down on the empty closet floor.

  “One down,” I said, laughing. “Four million to go.”

  She snorted. “If I made the kind of money a Shark does that number would be a hell of a lot more accurate.”

  I gaped at her, noticing she wasn’t close to joking.

  “What?” she stopped near where I’d halted in the doorway. “I have a weakness for shoes.”

  I shifted to face her like it wasn’t an option not to—my body begging to be aligned with hers in any way possible. “I didn’t figure the wild Nine had any weaknesses.”

  She arched a brow at me. “A few.”

  “What are the others?” I leaned one arm on the doorframe, slightly caging her in.

  “I’ll never tell,” she said, her chest rising and falling a bit faster than moments before.

  I dared to shift closer, so close I could feel the heat from her body, smell the fresh scent of her skin.

  “I could get it out of you.” I kept my other hand steady at my side, demanding it not to betray me and reach for her.

  “Is that so?”

  I nodded, unable to stop the smile shaping my lips.

  “And how would you go about getting that information from me?”

  Yes. There she is. The girl who likes to play.

  “Oh, I have a few techniques I think would work on you.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Mmhmm.” I inched my face closer to hers, needing more of her scent, more of her nearness. “Ways that would likely have you spill all your secrets.”

  A shudder rippled over her skin, and she forced out a laugh. “I don’t have any secrets.”

  “Liar,” I teased, my nose a breath away f
rom the tip of hers.

  “I’m an open book.”

  “I know that’s not true.”

  “You don’t know me,” she countered, shifting so that her spine was against the doorframe, her body almost brushing mine.

  I smirked. “You’re independent and fierce and sometimes a real pain in the ass.”

  She rolled her eyes, but a flush raced over her cheeks.

  “But,” I continued, taking my time to trail my eyes over her body. “Under all that strength? There is something there. Something I think you rarely let people see. Maybe not even the girls.”

  Her lips parted, her eyes darting over mine.

  They were shocked but hungry and full of heat.

  She wanted something from me, and in that moment, I had something I wanted to give her.

  One breath, that is all that separated my lips from hers. It would only take one nod from her, and I’d claim her mouth.

  I held my breath, holding my position, waiting…wanting.

  She tilted her chin up just a fraction and closed her eyes.

  Submission.

  Acceptance.

  Mine.

  A thrill rushed through me, flickering nerves fueling my racing heart as I smoothed my hand over her cheek.

  She jolted, her eyes snapping open wide and panicked…

  Before she sprinted from under my touch.

  She ran away.

  Leaving me standing there like a fucking idiot.

  “Oh God,” she moaned—but nothing like the way I remembered.

  This was jagged and raw and…

  Oh.

  Oh.

  I snapped out of the rejection and hurried to the bathroom down the hall.

  Jeannine wretched through the closed door, and I cringed.

  My hand on the knob, I paused before opening it.

  “Can I come in?”

  “Go. Away.”

  I pressed my lips into a line and took a deep breath.

  “Let me help you,” I tried again.

  Another wave hit her, the sound stinging my stomach.

  “Nothing can help me. Go, save yourself.”

  I bit my lip to hide the laugh.

  This woman. Funny and smart and so damn stubborn.

  A groan and a sigh and I felt the worst was over.

  Still, I hurried to the kitchen, wetting a cloth with ice cold water.

  Jeannine was coming out of the bathroom by the time I made it back. She eyed the rag, but I put my hand on the small of her back, guiding her into my bedroom. The touch was searing but innocent and definitely not nearly enough.

  “Here,” I said, gesturing for her to lay down. She obeyed, slipping under the covers easily enough.

  The king size bed threatened to swallow her whole, and I focused on the light sheen of green on her skin to stop from noticing how incredible she looked in my bed. It didn’t really stop me from picturing all the ways in which I wanted her.

  “Rory told me this helps,” I said, placing the rag on the back of her neck.

  “It’ll get your pillow all wet,” she said, her voice so, so damn tired.

  “I don’t care,” I said. “Better?” I asked when she’d closed her eyes against the cool contact.

  She nodded.

  “Good.” I rubbed the back of my neck, not sure what to do. I wanted to sit down next to her and massage her back or front or feet or whatever she needed, but I knew she’d never tell me what she actually needed. I’d have to pay such close attention. “I thought morning sickness was supposed to ease by this point?” I asked, still standing there gazing down at her.

  “So they keep telling me.” She slowly opened her eyes. “What did you do last night, Google all things pregnancy related?” she joked.

  I forced out a laugh, glancing at the floor.

  “You didn’t.”

  I shrugged. “Just a little.” That was a lie. I’d spent hours reading up on everything—even some things I’d rather forget. “I may have had the guys give me a crash course, too.”

  She chuckled, but it was half-groan. “You didn’t need to do that,” she said, rolling to her left side, an arm draped protectively over her belly. “I’ve totally got this under…” she sucked in a sharp breath. “Control.”

  A blink and I was there, leaning over her, my arms supporting me as I neared her face.

  “I get that, Nine,” I said. “I really do. You don’t need me. But I’m here.”

  Something flashed over her eyes—fear and hope and worry all mixed together.

  I allowed myself one more innocent touch as I trailed a finger over her forehead, tucking the wild hairs away from her face. “Now, rest,” I ordered. “I’m going to the store to stock up on crackers and ginger ale and anything else you want.”

  A small smile shaped her perfect, pouty lips. “You don’t have to—”

  My growl cut her off, and she glared at me.

  “Ice cream,” she said.

  “What kind?”

  “Chocolate.” She sighed, her brow furrowing as something happened inside of her that I couldn’t see. “Just chocolate.”

  “You got it,” I said, shoving off the bed and fixing the covers over her. “You should sleep.”

  “It’s nearly five pm.”

  “So?” I shrugged in the doorway. “You worked way too hard today.” I cocked a brow at her, daring her to argue.

  For once, she didn’t. She simply closed her eyes and settled deeper against my pillows.

  I tapped the doorway, turning.

  “Thank you,” I heard her say as I walked away.

  “Anytime,” I said back, not sure if she heard me, and not sure if she’d meant for me to hear her.

  I grabbed my keys and sank behind the wheel of my car—my driver on standby during the offseason. Starting the ignition, I shook my head.

  Jeannine had only been in my house for an hour, and we’d laughed, fought, and I’d been seconds away from kissing her.

  It was going to be a long three months, especially if she continued to battle me at every turn.

  A smirk shaped my lips as I backed out of my driveway.

  Maybe it would be more fun than I could hope for.

  Chapter 5

  Jeannine

  “Are you sure, Rafael?” I asked, glancing around my kitchen like I’d never see it again.

  “Yes, Chef,” he said, even though I’d asked him for years to call me Jeannine or Nine.

  “I don’t want to put too much pressure on you,” I said, but it was more like I didn’t want to take these last three months off of work.

  I did, but I didn’t.

  I’d always worked. And when I wasn’t working, I thought about work. Even while I’d played up my single lifestyle, I did so with my career in mind.

  “It’s not,” he said. “I promise. I can do this.”

  I knew he could. That’s why he’d be my head chef over at the fourth location whenever I got the go-ahead to open it. This would be good practice for him, and I’d get some much-needed time away from throwing up constantly because of the food smell.

  Yesterday flashed through my mind—the way Warren had been so gentle and yet so damn primal as he ordered me to rest and let him take care of me. I wasn’t used to it, and every instinct roared at me to not get used to it…but it was nice.

  Surprising.

  And he had helped.

  “The doctors assure me once I have the baby I’ll be back to normal and able to handle all the smells again.”

  He nodded. “We’ll be glad to have you back then, but in the meantime,” he said. “Just go. Rest. Don’t worry about this. Take care of that proper tiny chef.” He pointed to my stomach. “And then you’ll come back, likely with a new menu and as brilliant as ever.”

  I wrapped him in a hug. “You’re seriously the best.”

  “I know,” he teased. “Now go.”

  I took one last glance around, silently promising my first baby—my restaurant—I’d be back.
“I’m only a phone call away if you need anything,” I said as I walked toward the doors. “And I’ll still be overseeing the benefit and preparing for it.”

  “You’re the boss, boss. Always will be.” He waved at me before glancing up to look at the incoming tickets. The boy was good. And I’d never be able to thank him enough for this time.

  The grin was still on my face as I sank into Warren’s SUV parked outside the restaurant. This time he was behind the wheel, looking delicious in a pair of dark jeans and white long-sleeved henley.

  “Everything go okay?” He asked as I buckled my seatbelt.

  “As good as it could.”

  “You going to be okay?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I think. It’s just crazy…the idea of not working for four or so months.” Because while this three-months off was a luxury, the next two would be a necessity. For the baby.

  Holy hell baby we’re not too far off.

  I was assaulted with three big kicks as if baby-ball heard me.

  “I know,” he said, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the street. “The first time we hit off-season, I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. The guys and I made a habit of going to the gym every day, doing pick-up games, that kind of thing, but the stillness…it’s enough to drive you crazy.”

  “Gee thanks,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  He chuckled. “Sorry. It’s not like you’re being still, though.” His eyes flashed to my tummy for a brief second before returning to the road. “You’re working even when you’re not working.”

  “True.” I rubbed my hands over my stomach. “So, where are we headed today?” I asked, ready to change the subject and get my mind off leaving work. It would take more than a few days to get used to.

  “Crossing a number off the list,” he said.

  Butterflies joined the kicking baby in my tummy. Any number on that list would be completely new territory for me. Good thing I was being pretty flexible about embracing the new.

  “And you’re still certain this is what you want to spend your off-season doing?” I asked, glancing at him from the passenger seat.