Winger (Seattle Sharks Book 3)

by Samantha Whiskey

  He slipped off his briefs and went to rip open the packet.

  “Nuh-uh,” I said, shaking my head. I propped myself up on my elbows and gazed at his beautiful body, from the carved from wood abs to the insanely strong arms that could toss me around like a doll to the damn-near perfect, rock-hard cock. “You think I’m wasting that with a condom?”

  He tilted his head. “I thought we agreed neither of us is next in line for a baby.”

  “Exactly why I’m on birth control of the highest kind.” I winked at him. “And I’m totally clean. If you want to be triple safe, I get it. But if you want to feel me…” I shifted so my legs were parted, revealing what he’d just made swollen and aching for him. “Then come here.”

  “What about me? Aren’t you worried I might—”

  “You act like I don’t know you, Warren,” I said, chuckling. “We’ve run in the same circle for over a year now. I know you. I know you’re smart, clean.”

  He pursed his lips, a small battle raging in his eyes. It only took a few seconds before he tossed the packet over his shoulder and jumped on the bed.

  “Oh, thank God,” I said, kissing him hard as he settled between my thighs. I ran my fingers over every gloriously muscled inch of him, wondering how in the hell I’d resisted this urge for so long. “I was worried you’d be a closet boy scout.”

  “Me?” He pressed the tip of his cock against the apex of my thighs, and I hissed. “Just took me a minute to realize you were right.”

  “I’m always right,” I said, nipping at his bottom lip as I arched my hips upward, trying to take him in.

  He kept away enough to torture me.

  “Greedy woman,” he teased.

  “Boy scout,” I challenged.

  He growled and pinned both my hands above my head with one of his. The other was busy spreading my thighs as wide as they could possibly go. His eyes trailed the length of my body, hungry in their gaze.

  “I’m not sure if you’re ready for this,” he said, teasing my wetness with his fingers.

  “Oh, I’m more than ready. Hit me with your best shot, Shark.”

  He smirked before slamming his lips down on mine. I took his tongue in my mouth, claiming him as easily as he claimed me. He may be used to the submissive puck bunny type, but I was here to play.

  Just like him.

  We were the same.

  Wanted the same things.

  Our careers.

  And one wild night between the sheets.

  He jerked his head back, those dark eyes churning.

  “You asked for it,” he said before thrusting.

  Nothing about this man was gentle—he was all hard edges, rough scruff, and pure, undiluted man.

  Such a rare treat to have someone so confident between my legs.

  “Yes,” I said, moaning as his length filled me.

  Damn, he was huge.

  I hadn’t expected less from the beast of a man.

  My walls were snug around him despite being slippery from his mouth. He kept my hands pinned even though I pushed against them, wanting to claw my nails into his back.

  “Fucking perfect,” he growled as he thrust again and again, his free hand pressing one of my thighs to the bed so he could pump deeper. “I can feel every delicious inch of you.”

  He filled me, over and over, the angle hitting every single hot-spot I possessed and coiling that sweet tension within me again.

  I never once shut my eyes, content to watch him take control of my body and make it sing for him.

  I melted between his thrusts, clenched around him with each expertly timed roll of my hips.

  He was glorious to look at—all hard ridges and smooth skin and pure strength.

  Damn, this man was everything.

  The perfect combination of safe and sin.

  He moved his hand from my thigh to my clit, rolling it with just the right amount of pressure to make me scream.

  “Fuck,” he hissed as I clenched hard around him.

  I reached up, claiming his mouth as I came, needing to feel him inside me in every way possible.

  A deep shudder ran through him, and he found his release inside me but never broke our kiss.

  Slowly, he worked us both down until our hungry, greedy kisses and touches turned into soft, sweet, feather-light caresses.

  After a few moments, he rolled over, crashing on his back. “Damn.”

  “Damn,” I agreed.

  It had been too long, that was true…but I’d never had a ride like that before.

  He turned his head to look at me. “Do I need to leave right this second or…”

  I smiled. “I don’t have an early meeting if you don’t.”

  “I don’t,” he said quickly. “I don’t have to be at the airport until five tomorrow evening.”

  “Then stay?” I bit my bottom lip. “And we can say goodbye after a morning session?”

  The smile that shaped his lips actually made my heart skip.

  Damn.

  The man was too good in bed. He was confusing the hell out of my body.

  “Sounds perfect,” he said, settling into my bed. “How could I resist another taste?” He reached down between us, lazily tracing the lines of my hand again.

  Heat crashed over my skin from the light touch, and it took all the strength I had to not move his hand to where I was already aching and ready for him again.

  My girls hadn’t lied.

  Swimming with Sharks was the only way to go.

  Chapter 1

  Jeannine

  Present Day

  “I can’t believe you’ve kept it from us this long,” Paige scolded me as I waddled around my apartment, mocktails in hand.

  I gave her one, then Bailey.

  “I can’t believe we’re still talking about this,” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat.

  I loved them, and I knew they meant well, but they didn’t know what it was like to be me in this situation.

  For them, babies had always been in their future.

  For me? They’d never been part of the plan.

  One hot night six months ago had blown my career-only future to hell.

  At first, I’d been terrified.

  Then angry.

  Then in denial.

  It had taken me three months to actually tell the girls I was pregnant, and I swore them to secrecy—they couldn’t tell the guys.

  I still hadn’t told them who the father was.

  It was easy enough for them to not be able to guess—I was a party girl on my seldom nights off—or I used to be.

  Bailey sipped her mocktail. “You know we love you no matter who it is, right?”

  I sighed, hiding behind my drink.

  “Yes,” I finally said. “I don’t know why this has to be the topic of every girl’s night we have.”

  “Because we know how hard it is to do this on your own!” Paige said, likely thinking of Daphne—who was now ten months old and certainly bossing Rory around right this second.

  “Exactly,” Bailey agreed. Gage had Lettie and Ethan solo tonight, giving us this rare and much needed-girls’ night. “And we want you to have all the support you need. Maybe if you told the father—”

  “I did!” I took a deep breath, absently rubbing my hand over my belly.

  I was lucky to be tall—even at six months pregnant, eating everything in sight—I still had my legs and my boobs. It only looked like I’d swallowed a basketball.

  “What?” They both said at the same time.

  “Yeah,” I said, sipping my drink. “I left him a message.”

  “A message?” Again, they chided me at the same time.

  “If you two keep this up I’m going to kick you both out.”

  They shared a concerned glance, then after a silent conversation I heard all too well, Bailey took the floor. “You have to try harder than that, Jeannine.”

  “Why?” I whined. “Honestly, I know the guy. He never wanted kids. Hell, he never want
ed a relationship. I’m not going to subject this kid to that kind of rejection just because my birth control decided to fail during…” I stopped myself before I could say the hottest sex of my life.

  Maybe that is why I’d gotten pregnant.

  Maybe Warren’s seed was too strong or some shit.

  Or maybe you did something wrong: like take it an hour late or early or God knows what.

  I still didn’t have an answer, and maybe I never would.

  I’d decided months ago that it didn’t matter.

  That obviously this baby was meant to be mine and mine alone.

  Warren never wanted this.

  Still stung that he never returned that message.

  “Jeannine,” Bailey said, almost cooing.

  She was really too good a friend to me.

  Both of them were.

  The second I told them, they’d done nothing but support every decision I’d made since—even the time when I put crushed Cheetos on my chocolate ice-cream. I was a chef for Christ’s sake, pregnant or not that was a bad choice.

  It didn’t help that the guys were supportive, too, even if they didn’t know what was going on. They thought my absence around them was due to me trying to get the green-light for a fourth location. Still, they offered this family dynamic where anything I needed was only a phone call away. I was damn lucky, but it also was hard as hell to know Gage and Rory were around, and Warren wasn’t.

  Missed an entire season because he was off being some Olympic athlete bull shit.

  Hello bitter.

  I took a deep breath. Even though I knew he didn’t want this, I at least wanted him to know this baby was his, too. But that I had everything under control. I didn’t need his money or even his time.

  Then what do I want?

  That was the question.

  “I want to be a good mom,” I said out loud.

  “You will be,” Paige said.

  “You’ll be the best mom,” Bailey agreed. “And we know you will be whether you tell this guy or not.”

  “I told you, I left a message.” I tried not to growl.

  I was hot and hormonal and just so tired of thinking about Warren. Our night haunted me in more ways than one—that whole rumor about getting hornier in the second trimester? Totally fucking true. I couldn’t reach myself to get off properly, and I’d sworn off men for the next eighteen years.

  “Come on, Jeannine,” Paige snapped. “You are a strong, self-sustaining, bad-ass chef, and an incredible woman. We know you don’t need the man. We’re not asking you to throw an engagement party. But he deserves more than a message. And you owe it to yourself to know for sure what his move is in this or not.”

  I sighed.

  I knew they were right.

  But I was ignoring it.

  I could do that, right? Pregnancy card and all.

  “Ohmygod,” Bailey said, her eyes widening as she stared at my belly.

  “What?” I jolted, slamming my drink down and rubbing my hands all over my belly as she continued to stare.

  “What the hell, Bailey?” Paige asked.

  “You said party,” she whispered, glancing at Paige then to me.

  My heart stopped and restarted in my chest.

  They couldn’t know.

  If they knew, they’d find a way to force Warren and me into a room.

  They were married to his best friends. They had power like that.

  “So?” Paige waved her hand in a get to the point motion.

  “The last party we threw—Warren’s going away—was six months ago.”

  “Who wants another drink?” I asked, forcing myself out of the chair and rushing toward the kitchen.

  The girls followed me, Bailey looking shocked, and Paige looking clueless.

  Damn you, Bailey.

  “She’s six months pregnant.” Bailey rested her hands on my kitchen island.

  Paige gasped. “So, the father was at Warren’s party?”

  I closed my eyes.

  “Who would she sleep with at—” Paige’s words died as she clamped her hands over her mouth.

  Damn you, both.

  I smoothed my hand over my stomach, the life inside me flipping around as my heart rate spiked.

  It always did whenever I thought about actually facing Warren.

  Seeing him after all these months.

  So much had changed.

  I had changed.

  And not just my body, but my outlook. What I used to believe would be a damper on my career was now a much-anticipated hope and thrill inside me.

  I was going to be a mom.

  This baby was mine.

  My heart.

  My soul.

  And I couldn’t wait to take care of him or her.

  But if Warren knew—there was a possibility he might want to rob me of this solo-mission I’d taken upon myself. And he said it himself; he’d be a terrible father. I wasn’t about to let my baby be subjected to that.

  “Jeannine,” Bailey said, somehow her quiet voice so damned loud in the silent kitchen. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “He doesn’t want a baby.” I shrugged. “He didn’t want any of this.”

  “Gage has talked to him like a dozen times in the last six months!”

  “Rory, too,” Paige added.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I know,” I said. “Back when I wasn’t showing I was there for some of those times. Aren’t you wondering why Gage and Rory haven’t brought this up?” I pointed to my stomach. “Why they still don’t know about me?”

  They both blinked at me.

  “Because Warren hasn’t talked to them about it. Never brought it up.” I sighed. “I left him a message. He chose to ignore it. Case closed.”

  Bailey shook her head. “Warren may be a beast-like playboy, but he isn’t a bad guy. He wouldn’t ignore this.”

  “He really wouldn’t,” Paige said, her hand on my shoulder.

  “Well,” I said, a dark chuckle on my lips. “He sure has a funny way of showing attention, then.”

  “No,” Bailey said. “There has to be another explanation.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” I swallowed hard. “It’s too late anyway.”

  “It’s never too late to do the right thing, Nine,” Bailey said, and I hated that she was right.

  “You’re going to run into him sooner or later.” Paige dropped her hand.

  “Why?” My gaze darted between them both.

  “Because he got back last night,” Paige answered.

  Oh, fucking hell.

  Okay, so he hadn’t decided to stay in Canada like I secretly hoped and dreaded. Perfect.

  I blew out a breath, glancing down at my belly. “It doesn’t change anything,” I said. “I highly doubt he spent the last six months thinking about our one-night-stand and saying you know I’m done with my bachelor ways, I want to be a daddy.”

  I chuckled, and the girls did, too.

  “You never know until you talk to him.” Bailey hugged me from behind, and Paige hugged me from the front. Together we made one poorly shaped triangle of love, but it was exactly what I needed.

  “And if he hasn’t changed? If he’s mad at me for keeping the baby?” I whispered, terrified to speak my worst fears too loudly.

  “He would never say that,” Paige said, releasing me.

  “He’s a good man. A beast but a good one.” Bailey said, stepping back.

  “What Shark isn’t?” I asked, trying to joke but the nerves were quickly suffocating me.

  I would have to see Warren.

  I’d have to look him in those dark, sexy eyes, and show him what our night—and morning—of passion had created.

  And I had to hope to God that seeing him wouldn’t instantly turn me into some weeping damsel due to hormones and seeing the biological father of my child. Because honestly, I could handle this on my own. I knew I could.

  But if he wanted to be a part of it?

  Be in my life, in the ba
by’s?

  I wasn’t sure if I was strong enough to do both.

  And that is what scared me most of all.

  “All right,” I finally said. “You tell me where they’ll be next, and I’ll talk to him.”

  Both of the girls smiled.

  “They have a pick-up game tomorrow,” Bailey said.

  “Of course, they do,” I said, rolling my eyes. I held my stomach. “Well, baby. I guess we couldn’t hide forever.”

  Chapter 2

  Warren

  Gage hit the puck with only half the ferocity he usually did, not wanting to risk hurting himself in a simple pick-up game. Still packed a hell of a punch. Gliding across the ice, I soared around him, blocking his attempt at the goal.

  “Bailey and the kids keep you up all night?” I teased.

  “Every night, man. Every. Night.” He laughed, now merely skating than playing.

  We’d already been at it for a few hours, and while the guys over in the Canadian camp had kept me in shape, it was nothing compared to playing against my boys. I was beat, but happy.

  “I’ve missed you guys,” I said and waved off their exaggerated awws. “Fuck you,” I said as Rory skated over to us.

  “No, it’s cute,” Rory said. “I mean, you did practically ghost us for six months.”

  I scoffed. “For the last time I didn’t ghost anyone,” I said. “My cell got wrecked the day I went over there, and I lost all my data. Everything. Wiped clean.”

  Rory skidded to a stop near the box, and Gage and I followed.

  “Just think,” Rory said, waving his hand in the air. “All those women’s numbers, gone.”

  I cringed.

  He wasn’t wrong, but while I’d been over there only one woman had been on my mind.

  Almost annoyingly so.

  A pretty prefect blonde chef—my one wild night with Jeannine had ruined me for any Canadian beauties that sauntered my way. I hadn’t been with anyone since like Jeannine had put some kind of voodoo on my dick.

  Now that I was back?

  I wanted her.

  Again and again.

  That in of itself was shocking and terrifying and had kept me from asking Rory or Gage to give me her number.

  “Whoa,” Rory said, dropping his arm. “You aren’t sad about that at all, are you?” His helmet off, he narrowed his eyes at me, Gage mirroring a look of what the fuck?