by Anne Lange
Serena closed her eyes and turned her face into his palm. She planted her lips there. “I’m glad. Not for what she’s gone through, but that you finally can come to terms with it.”
“I’m trying to do the same with a few other things too.”
“Such as?” She held her breath.
“I put in my retirement notice today.”
“Oh, Mitch.” Serena wrapped her arms around his waist, the pregnancy test still clutched tight in her fist. She’d actually forgotten about it while he’d kissed her. Now it burned her palm. “What will you do?”
He rubbed her back. “I’m okay. I spoke with Mason this morning and he’s working out a deal with the team to buy out my contract. I also saw Noah and he’s going to recommend a surgeon to me. Coach thinks I should consider coaching. And Mason has a suggestion that sounds interesting.” He smiled a secretive smile. “But I have one that I’d like to discuss with you first.”
“Oh?”
“I was thinking that perhaps we could start working on that family you want.”
Surprise filled her. So did panic. So did nausea, but she swallowed that one down. “Really? You’re sure?”
“I’m sure. I’ll be off for a while. So I’ll be around more. Underfoot probably. I can help you.”
“What about your past?”
“Well, you were right. I gave it a lot of thought last night and more this morning. I can’t change who gave birth to me. But I can take what I learned from my parents, Elaine and Grant, and use that to shape the type of father I want to be.”
Tears welled instantly. They drifted over her lashes and splattered onto her cheeks. More filled her throat until it hurt so much she could barely swallow. She sucked in gulps of air as her nose started to fill and she couldn’t use it to breathe anymore.
Mitch’s eyes went wide, filled with alarm. He continued to move his hands up and down her back in a pace she was sure he meant to be soothing.
“Hey. Honey, what are the tears for? I’m sorry. I thought you’d be happy about this.” He looked ready to run.
“I… I am.” Her breath hitched as she sobbed. Goddamn hormones. Am I going to be a blubbering mess the whole time?
“Then why are you crying?”
The poor guy didn’t know what to do about her. All she could do was show him. Serena removed her hand from around his back and held up her prize.
He looked at it, his confusion clear. “What’s that?”
She spun it around so he could see the plus sign.
“I still don’t know what it is.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m pregnant.”
His eyes widened. “You’re pregnant.” He looked at his watch. “Well, that was fast.”
She slapped his chest. “I’ve probably been pregnant for a few weeks.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.” She smoothed the palm of her empty hand up his chest as she studied his expression. “Are you happy about it?”
She watched him watching her. “Are you?”
He tilted his head and eyed her from an angle. “I am if you are.”
Men. “Yes. I’m very happy, Mitch. I want this baby more than anything.”
He sighed and hugged her close. “So do I.”
Relief rushed through her and she collapsed in his arms.
He was going to be a father.
Mitch embraced his wife and tucked his nose into the side of her neck, just to breathe her in. He loved the warm, sweet smell of her. He’d missed this. The bar and the club were different and fabulous experiences, but home—this is what he wanted with her most of all. A home and a family that he could raise and be proud of.
He took the pregnancy stick from her hand and laid it on the table then wrapped his arm around his wife and bent to grab her behind the knees. He lifted her up into his arms.
“Mitch!”
“I’m fine.” He turned and carried her up the stairs to their bedroom, where he laid her down on their bed. Then he slowly undressed her. One button at a time. One sleeve, one leg at a time. He stripped her bare and pressed kisses to her soft flesh at each unveiling.
When she lay naked before him, he lay down beside her and settled his hand on her flat stomach, in awe that he’d helped to create something so special. Someone that he would love unconditionally. Someone he would be proud of just for being who they were.
“Mitch. Are you sure you’re okay?”
He glanced up at Serena. “I’m perfect.”
“Are you going to get undressed too?”
He grinned, then jumped up, ditched his clothes and crawled over his wife. He looked down. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Have I ever told you that?”
Her eyes sparkled. “You can show me.”
That he could. Mitch lowered his body to her side. She rolled to face him, resting her hand on his waist while he trailed his fingers over her hip and down her leg then back up. She lowered her hand to his rigid cock. When she wrapped her warm fingers around him and moved her hand up then down, he shut his eyes and shuddered. While she continued to stroke him, Mitch palmed his wife’s breast, realizing that even now they seemed larger.
He plucked her nipple a few times, then leaned down and covered it with his mouth, applying suction. Serena released her hold on him and collapsed to her back, voicing a pleasurable sigh before arching into his hold. Mitch switched to the other breast, and used his fingers to tug and lightly pinch the now wet one.
His wife moaned as he played with her. While he continued to lick the one pebbled point, he slid a hand down her tummy to between her legs, stopping to smooth his fingers over her bareness. So soft. He loved that she’d done that for him. And she was wet. Nice and slippery beneath his fingers. Dipping one between her folds, he caressed up and down her length, avoiding her clit, but dipping into her pussy, gently pumping one finger in and out. He added a second as she began to rock her pelvis back and forth.
“I want you inside me, Mitch.”
He shook his head. “Not yet.”
Scooting down the bed, he nudged her legs apart and nestled between them. Using his thumbs he spread her wide. The moisture gathering there made his mouth water. “You’re glistening, baby.” He inhaled. “And your scent… Ah… So hot.”
“Mitch.”
“Don’t rush me.”
She chuckled. “If you don’t get a move on, I might have to do the job myself.”
He loved to watch her touch herself. “Do it. Rub your clit.”
She sucked one finger into her mouth, getting it nice and wet, then reached down and laid a red-tipped nail over the swollen bud, starting with tiny circles.
Mitch leaned forward, placed his tongue at the bottom near her pussy and swiped up, capturing some cream on his travels. With his gaze focused on her hand, and his ears listening to every gasp, moan and whimper she articulated, he licked and lapped at her. He sucked each pussy lip into his mouth. He twirled his tongue around her finger, almost jealous that he couldn’t get his own taste of her clit, feel that tiny bundle under his tongue, or between his teeth.
Serena shifted her legs, giving him more room. He eased closer, surrounding himself with her damp warmth, her arousal and her taste. He pressed his hard cock into the mattress beneath him, aching to be buried balls deep inside his wife.
Mitch lifted his head. Serena’s eyes were heavy, her gaze full of heat and lust. Her cheeks glowed. Her lips were parted, plump, begging to be kissed. Her relaxed pose, splayed out and sexy as hell, called to him. He wanted to cover her smaller body with his larger one and take control, take her.
Instead, he pushed two fingers inside her and held them still while the walls of her pussy stretched around them.
“In a minute, it’s going to be me in here.”
“Yes.”
“I plan to make love to you all night long, Serena.”
“I’m not complaining.”
“You’ll be tired. And probably sore.”
“You’ll take care of me.”
Forever.
“Love me, Mitch.”
Always.
Mitch withdrew his fingers. Serena removed hers and waited. Rising, he crawled up and into position. Mitch pointed his cock at her pussy, gulping when the wet warmth enveloped the head of his dick. He pushed his way in. She was moist, easing his way, but he still quivered at how snug she was.
Rooted deep, his pelvis tight to hers, Mitch dropped his chest to her breasts, loving the feeling of her tight nipples poking him. Serena tilted her lower half, wrapped her legs around his hips and locked her heels behind his back. Squeezed between his wife’s thighs, with her hips canted, he sank farther, going as deep as possible.
Mitch thanked God for this woman. He prayed he’d be the best father possible. And he looked forward to a lifetime of proving to both of them just how much they meant to him.
Mitch started moving. Rocking his hips against hers, in and out. Shallow then deep. Hard then gentle. Fast then slow. Serena’s harsh breathing was music to his ears. She dug her nails into his arms, pressed her heels to his ass.
“Make me come, Mitch.”
His kicked up his pace, needing that release too.
Sweat trickled down the sides of his face. He used his forearms to lever himself over her, the twinge of pain almost forgotten in the moment. Pumping faster, harder, into Serena, he watched a myriad of expressions flutter over her face. None he had the time to contemplate. But the love he saw in her eyes drew him.
Leaning down, he brushed his lips across hers. With shallow, quick thrusts, he fucked her. When she broke the kiss and arched, he drove deep, his own climax building fast, coming from nowhere, ready to explode out of him.
Mitch tangled his fingers through Serena’s hair, latched his mouth to hers and plunged into her just as her orgasm crested and broke, shattering her, showering his cock with her wetness. He rammed inside and groaned, holding himself still as his seed spilled. This time it didn’t need to find a home, but the euphoria he felt knowing that he’d already laid claim to this beautiful woman left him with a sense of satisfaction and pride so profound, he wondered how he’d ever considered running a ball down the field to be more important.
Nothing was more important than the two lives he held cradled in his arms right at this moment—his new team.
Not even that final quarter of that last game he’d played.
Epilogue
“Are you sure you’re up to this, Mitch?” Serena followed her husband out to their new SUV, parked in the driveway. As she waddled along behind him, feeling as big as a house, she took great pleasure in ogling her husband’s ass. Even though he no longer played football, that cute, tight butt still rocked a pair of jeans.
“I should be asking you that.” When he reached the vehicle, he tossed his bag into the rear seat and turned to face her. “It’s a short trip. Just long enough to meet and hopefully sign this new client.”
“But your arm—”
“Is fine. Surgery was successful, rehab’s going great. I promise not to go do anything more strenuous than lifting a beer.”
He rubbed a hand over her belly. “Need to save the arm for cradling this little bundle.” He dropped a light kiss on the tip of her nose. “And I’ll only be gone a couple of days. Just long enough to wrap up business, then I plan to have dinner with some of the guys. It will be nice to see them before they start preparing for training camp.”
So much had changed in the few short months since he’d retired.
He gazed down at her, tenderness stamped all over his face.
“I won’t be gone long. I just need to meet this new player face-to-face and have a little chat with him about the pros and cons of throwing tantrums to get his way. He’s lost two agents already because of his behavior. This kid has boatloads of potential. He just hasn’t found the right person to stick with him yet.”
“I knew you’d make an excellent agent. That’s the one thing you have that Mason doesn’t—actual on-the-field experience. Your clients can’t bullshit you. And they respect you all the more knowing that you speak and understand the same language they do. That you’ve been in their cleats.”
After his retirement, Mitch had signed on as one of Mason’s agents. Though he took on a variety of athletes, he obviously specialized in football players. And he had one hell of an impressive roster already. Mason’s business was pulling in more revenue thanks to Mitch. Having him on staff was raising the profile of the agency to even higher levels.
“Though I still think you could have had an excellent side job as a male model.”
“Not on your life. I plan to watch this little one while you take the photographs of all those good-looking guys.”
“No, you plan to use me and the baby as props to ensure none of those good-looking guys flirt with me.”
He shrugged off her accusation, not bothered at all. “Hey, whatever works. And nothing works better than flaunting a man’s family.”
“Is Mason going with you?”
He shook his head. “Nope. I’ve asked him to stay close to the phone in case you need him.”
“The baby’s not due for a few more weeks, Mitch.”
“Still close. And if it wasn’t for this guy being a particularly hard case, I’d probably just have Mason deal with it, but there’s something about this kid that strikes a chord with me, so I want to be the one to talk with him and land this deal. But I promise to be back in a couple of days, three tops. And you call Mason if you need anything.”
“I’ll be fine, Mitch.”
“Anything, Serena.”
“Yes, Mitch.”
She reached up, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled him down for a deep, all tongue kiss. “Come home soon.”
“Sweetheart, you couldn’t make me stay away.”
Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:
A New League: Sliding into Home
Anne Lange
Excerpt
Chapter One
“Fuck. I can’t believe I’m even considering going through with this,” Jack mumbled and sipped from his glass of Crown Royal, smothering a sigh. Christ, he needed to find new friends. His current ones derived too much joy in taking advantage of his soaked-in-alcohol, pissed-at-the-world state of mind.
Why the hell can’t people leave me alone? His friends, his agent, his teammates—every other goddamn day he deleted messages from his phone. Everyone wanted to either console him or provide career advice.
Jack ground his teeth together. Not for the first time, he wondered what he’d done to deserve the crap hand he’d been dealt. He’d spent the last four months alone—he rolled his eyes—he’d tried to spend it alone. One would think unreturned phone calls, sneered hellos and ugly name-calling would keep the scavengers at bay.
Thank Christ most of his family had finally given up. Although, that last message from his mother—she’d insisted that he get his head out of his ass and start acting like an adult—still stung.
Guilt wormed a hole through his pride. Elaine Walker didn’t deserve his attitude. That woman had created a home for him when no other had. If it wasn’t for Elaine and Grant taking him in when they had, he would probably be living on the streets, or in jail.
Then two nights ago, after a coerced game of poker slash intervention, in which he’d lost five hundred dollars and a bet, his so-called friends had talked him into spending the weekend in Vegas with a blind date they’d arranged. Apparently those closest to him figured a good woman could pull him out of his funk. Then they had all laughed and wiped the table clean—and not of chips and pizza crumbs. Too bad they hadn’t picked up their dirty dishes at the same time.
Not that he needed a date. He dated fine. Or he had. They came to him, or rather his publicist arranged for them to come to him, and they left. Just the way he liked it. Sometimes he fucked them. Most of the time he didn’t. Not one woman in the past ten years had flipped his switch beyond a dim glow. Not
that he’d been looking. He had no plans to settle down, much to his foster parents’ dismay. And it’s not as if they didn’t know he wasn’t husband material. Besides, who’d be interested in a washed-up, washed-out baseball player at the age of twenty-eight? His single concession to the people he called family had been moving closer to the only true home he’d ever had—not exactly in their backyard close, but near enough.
Swirling the amber liquid around in the bottom of the glass, he racked his brain for a good missed-the-plane excuse. He needed this trip as much as he needed another drink. Jack’s phone buzzed like a bee on crack as it skated across the coffee tabletop. He glanced at the screen and groaned. Knowing what he’d find, he hit the pad anyway, lighting up the message.
Hey, Jackie boy, don’t you dare skip out on this flight. I’ve found the perfect woman for you. Everything is arranged and paid for.
Oh great. They’d got him a hooker.
I’ve sent you the hotel info in the attachment. You can thank me later. Now get your ass to the airport.
Fucking Mason. Regardless of his foster brother’s success, Jack should never have hired him as his agent. The ass took liberties normal agents wouldn’t dare. He swore the man had rigged a camera somewhere in this apartment. Good thing he considered Mason his best friend and loved him like a true brother, because he’d been nothing but a pain in his backside the last two months, ranting that Jack needed to get out, move on and find somebody to settle down with, something to take his mind off what had happened. With that man’s intuition and ability to nag, he must have been a female in a previous life. Jack ignored the itch to search the room, but just in case, he raised his hand and flipped his best friend and foster brother the bird.
Lifting his left arm, he checked the time on his silver Rolex, his parting gift from the team, and grimaced at the residual pain that sliced through his shoulder. Anger followed. Anger over the inability to do something he’d loved since childhood. The only thing that had made sense to him during those early turmoil-filled years when he’d been shuffled from foster home to foster home. Anger over a career cut short far too early—seemed to be the story of his life—everything had ground to a halt before it had even begun. Anger over the fact that he sat alone in his apartment with nothing but a handful of expensive objects to show for it. Things his publicist insisted that he needed. Rather than argue, he’d just gone with it.
