“Beck!” I bite my lip. I don’t want to be loud and alert anyone to what he’s currently doing to me. He pushes against me, the hardness of his cock pressing into my hip, and I melt further into his touch.
“I want you,” he says, but then steps back. The look of desire in his eyes tells me everything I need to know. How much he loves me, how much he craves me. “But”—he wipes a thumb across his lips—“if I take you right now, we’ll never get out of here today. So, on that note, I’m going to go shower.”
“Probably a good idea.” I grab my lotion and clothes, then sit on the edge of the bed. He watches from the doorway as I rub the lotion on my legs, and I tease the fuck out of him by slowly inching the towel up my legs.
“Sötnos.” He growls from the doorway and I flash him a shit-eating grin. He stalks over to me, his lips landing hard against my own. He kisses me deep, cupping my face, he angles it just right, dominating me. I follow his lead, my hands snaking up to grip his t-shirt in my hands. The movement causes my towel to come undone and slip down my body, exposing my chest to him.
He tears his lips from mine and looks down at my breasts. My nipples pebble just from his heated stare. He drops his mouth to them, flicking each tip with his tongue before abruptly standing back to his full height and adjusting himself before he makes an about-face turn and heads for the bathroom. I’m left sitting here, naked, and more turned on than I’ve probably ever been. Well, that backfired.
I finally finish applying lotion, then get dressed in a pair of jeans and cute flowy tank top I picked up just before our trip. I pull out my jean jacket to take with us in case I get cold while we’re walking around downtown. Once ready, I lean back against the headboard and pull out my kindle. I read a few pages before Beckett comes in, towel wrapped low around his waist. His abs on full display, I watch as a few water droplets roll down his chest and keep going until they reach the towel. I lick my lips and a small moan escapes.
“You’re drooling, sötnos,” he says with a smirk.
“So what if I am? I’m just enjoying the view,” I quip. “No different than you did earlier.”
I save my place in my book then tuck my kindle underneath my pillow. I rise from the bed and walk over to where he’s standing in front of his suitcase. I trail my fingertips from his pecs to the towel, making sure to skim over the ridges of his abs as I do. “I wouldn’t mind tracing one of these droplets with my tongue,” I tell him, a bit cheeky, before I turn and walk out of the room to do my hair and makeup in the bathroom. I leave him hanging on my comment and am sure he’s biting his tongue. When I look back over my shoulder, I see him doing just that with a smirk on his face.
Chapter Nineteen
Beckett
Julia and I walk hand-in-hand down the sidewalk as we take in the downtown area of my small hometown. The streets are lined with small locally-owned business. There’s everything from the local baker whose bread my mother has always bought, to a bookstore, small grocery store, and even a hardware store. Something new in one of the buildings is a dessert shop. From the pictures in the windows, it appears they carry everything, from specialty small batch ice cream, to edible cookie dough, fancy cupcakes, and other delicacies.
“Do you want to stop and get something?” I ask as we approach the dessert shop.
“Sure. I could go for a sweet treat this afternoon,” she says, slowing and placing a kiss on my cheek.
I pull the door open when we approach it, allowing Julia to enter ahead of me. The smell of vanilla, cinnamon, and cocoa powder, along with so many other sweet things hit my nose as I cross the threshold and the door closes behind me. The smells make me think of Julia and her vanilla-scented lotion she’s always got on.
“This place smells just like you,” I say, sweeping her hair off of her shoulder and exposing her neck to me. I drop a chaste kiss to the exposed skin, lingering just a moment as goose bumps pop up all over. I smile, knowing it was my touch, my words, that did that to her.
“Mmmhmmm.” She hums and tilts her head slightly, giving me even more access to the column of her neck. The people in front of us move forward, so we shuffle closer to the display case and take in all the options laid out before us. “It all looks so good. I don’t know what to pick,” she says, looking over her shoulder at me.
“We can always stop back here and pick up some things to take home with us,” I suggest.
“That’s a good idea. We can bring dessert for everyone tonight.”
“We can. So, what do you want for now?” I ask.
“Hmmm,” she says, tapping her forefinger against her chin as she surveys the case once more.
“Welcome, what can I get the two of you?” the young woman behind the counter asks. She looks familiar, but I can’t quite place her. When her eyes land on me, recognition flashes in them. “Beckett, is that you?”
“It’s me.”
“Long time, no see,” she says, and I still don’t know who I’m talking to. “You don’t recognize me, do you?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t,” I confess.
“It’s me, Marta,” she says, and it hits me. My ex-girlfriend is standing in front of me, the one I broke up with to move to the States to play hockey, more than five years ago. To chase my dream. The one she had no desire to chase with me, not that I blamed her one bit. We were young and nowhere near in love. Lust maybe, but definitely not love.
“Good to see you again, Marta. This here is my girlfriend, Julia. We’re just visiting for a few weeks during my offseason.”
“Nice to meet you,” she says to Julia.
“You too,” Julia politely responds, her eyes bouncing between the two of us. I can see the curiosity in her eyes as she tries to figure out if there’s any history between the two of us. I squeeze her hip lightly, reassuring her she’s mine and I’m hers.
“How have you been?” I ask.
“Really good.” A smile appears on her lips. She holds up a hand, motioning around the bakery. “I finally opened my own place, and business has taken off.” Her hand drops to her stomach, and that’s when I notice the large bump covered by her apron. “And my husband, Peter, and I are welcoming our first child later this summer,” she tells us, a look of pride filling her face.
“Congratulations!”
“Thank you,” she says as she reaches for a clean pair of gloves to pull onto her hands. She looks at Julia. “Have you made a selection yet?”
“I’d like to try a scoop of the edible sugar cookie dough, as well as a piece of your sea salt milk chocolate caramel, and one of the white chocolate caramels.”
“Did you want your scoop in a cup or cone? And just the one?” Marta asks for clarification.
“A cone, and just the one will be perfect,” she says. Marta grabs a cone and scoops out a generous amount.
“Here you go,” Marta says, handing over the cone filled with cookie dough. “What can I get for you, Beckett?”
“I’ll take a scone and a cup of coffee, please.”
Marta hands over my scone, along with the two chocolate pieces Julia ordered, then fills a cup with coffee and slides it across the countertop to me. “Anything else?” she asks, stepping up to the iPad stand at the end of the counter. She removes her gloves and starts pressing the screen as she rings up our purchase.
“That will be all for now. How late are you open? We wanted to swing back and pick up some things to take home for dessert tonight,” Julia tells her.
“We’re open until eight,” Marta replies, then tells me the total. I hand over some cash to pay for everything. “If you know what you want, I can have it boxed and ready to go for you.”
“Oh, that would be great,” Julia says, then turns to me. “Do you think everyone would like one of those large tarts? Or should we get an assortment of the cupcakes and chocolates?”
“We can just get both the cupcakes and tart. That way there’s something for everyone.”
“Okay,” she says, kissing my cheek before turning
back to Marta. “Can we get one of the large tarts, as well as a dozen cupcakes. You pick the flavors, and an assortment of chocolates, as well.”
“Of course,” Marta tells her. “I’ll box it all up and have it set back here for you. Did you want to pay now or when you come back?”
I pull some more money from my wallet. “I can just pay now.”
With our treats purchased, we sit at a little table in the corner and take in the people around us as we enjoy the sweets.
“So, what’s the story with you and Marta?” Julia finally asks.
“We dated for a few months when we were teens,” I tell her. I watch for any signs of jealousy, but don’t find any. “We broke things off when I got the chance to move to the States to play hockey. We were obviously young and in no position to continue our relationship. So, we ended things and, as you can see, she’s moved on and gotten married, and is starting a family.”
“That she has,” Julia muses, looking around at the little shop. “She’s a damn good baker.”
“I’d agree. She was always making something new to try when we were growing up. Got the baking bug from her mormor. Growing up, if you needed something baked for a special event, you went to her mormor for it. She didn’t have a bakery of her own, she just baked out of her small house. You could always count on her having a treat for all the neighborhood kids. She’d hand them out as we passed by her house on our way home from school.”
“That’s so sweet,” Julia comments as she takes the last bite of her cone.
“Was that good?”
“So good. You’ll have to keep me from coming here too much, or else I’ll go home having gained ten pounds.”
I grin. “You come here as often as you want.”
“Don’t tell me that!” she whisper-yells. “I can’t afford to replace my entire wardrobe because I indulged on too many sweets while on vacation.”
“You’ll be fine, I know a good way to work off the extra calories,” I say, a smirk firmly on my lips as I rake my eyes over her.
“Beckett!” she playfully tries to scold me.
“You say my name like that again, and I’ll take you back home right now and strip you down, and that’s a promise.”
“Well now,” she says sassily. “Shall we continue on our way around town?”
“Sure.” I stand and I offer my hand to her, which she accepts. We clear our trash and I take the coffee cup over to a bin for dirty dishes. “Thanks, Marta. We’ll be back in a while to pick everything up,” I call out before we leave the bakery.
“I love it here,” Julia says as we stroll along an open park an hour or so later. “It’s so peaceful, and everyone is just so nice.”
“We can come back whenever you want to.” I pull her a little closer to my side, my arm draped around her as I hold her close. We walk like that for a few blocks, as Julia takes in the peacefulness of the town. It’s a different way of life here compared to the city life, and hustle and bustle that comes with living in Indy.
“I’d like that,” she finally responds. “I’ll bet it’s beautiful here in the wintertime.”
“It is. I haven’t been here for the holidays in a very long time, not since I left for the States, as it was always the hockey season. With only getting three or so days off, I could never justify flying home for any of it.”
“I hate that for you. That you can’t spend holidays with your family.”
“I’ve never spent a holiday by myself. Every team I’ve played for has always had something for those of us who couldn’t justify going home, so it isn’t like I’ve been alone, unless I wanted time to myself.”
“That’s great and all, but I’m sure that your family misses you.”
“They do, but they also understand.”
“I know it’s hopefully a long way off, but do you want to move back once you retire?” she asks.
“I don’t know. It will depend on a lot of things. I’ll need to get a job after I’m done playing. I won’t be able to just sit around doing nothing, but I don’t know exactly what I’d want to do yet, I haven’t thought that far ahead. I hope to be able to play for a long time coming. Those are the professional factors that would play into my decision, but I’d also take into consideration my personal ones, as well. Where will we be at that time? Marriage? Kids? A house? New city? Your career? Those are all things that would need to be taken into consideration and made together. If I don’t move back here, I’d at least want to come spend a good amount of time here in the summer. Hopefully have a job that would allow us to come back over the holidays occasionally.”
“You want all those things?” she asks, standing in front of me and looking up into my eyes.
“I do, but only with you.” I cup her cheek and bring my lips to hers. “Jag älskar dig, Julia,” I whisper against them, then kiss her again. Right here, in the middle of my hometown, I kiss her like I’ve never done before. My heart belongs to this woman, more than she will ever know.
“Jag älskar dig,” she tells me once we break apart. I rest my forehead against hers for a moment as we just breathe each other in. I place a kiss against her forehead before I pull away completely.
“Shall we start heading back?” I suggest as I link our fingers back together.
“Yeah, I’m excited to go meet your mormor and morfar,” she says, bouncing on her toes.
“Let’s go then.” I lead her back to the bakery to pick up the dessert we picked out earlier. With it in hand, we stroll back to where I parked, and then make the short drive to my parents’ house.
When we arrive, the driveway is already filled with cars. “Hello!” I call out when we walk in.
“We’re in the living room,” my mom replies. We stop by the kitchen first to set down the boxes from Marta’s bakery, then join everyone in the living room. I head straight for my grandparents, wrapping my mormor in a hug.
“Mormor, I’d like you to officially meet Julia. Julia, this is my mormor.”
“It’s so good to finally meet you,” Julia tells her as they pull each other into a hug. I step back and allow them to have a few moments to greet each other.
Once they separate, I quickly introduce Julia to a handful of aunts and uncles that are here tonight, as well, and smile at how wonderful today has been. I don’t think life could get any better than this.
Hours later, all of my extended family has finally gone home, leaving just my sisters, brother-in-law, Bea’s boyfriend, Lars, and my grandparents. Julia has fit into our fold perfectly. Everyone loves her, just as I knew they would. There’s nothing not to love about her. My dad motions for me to follow him, so I excuse myself from the group and join him outside.
“What’s up?” I ask, once we’ve made ourselves comfortable in chairs out on the deck.
“Just wanted to have a chance to talk, just the two of us. See how things are going.”
“Things are great, Dad,” I tell him honestly. “Not much I would change, even if I could.”
“She’s good for you,” he says, no question in his statement.
“She is,” I agree. “I fought it for a few months, but realize that was an idiotic thing to do.”
“Sometimes us men don’t make the best decisions when it comes to women. But the good ones will stick it out. I’m guessing, since you brought her home, you’re thinking towards the future?”
“That I am. We’ve only been dating for seven months or so, but I can feel it in my soul. She’s it for me.”
“I knew from the day I first laid eyes on your mom, she was it for me. Sometimes, you just know. Don’t waste time just to appease others. If she’s what you want in your future, then make it happen, son.”
“The thought crossed my mind to propose to her this summer, even on this trip, but I’ve not talked to her parents and I’d really like to do that first.”
“Good thinking. If you want to do it here, call them up and see if they can fly here before the two of you go back.”
“It�
��s an idea, but that’d be asking a lot of them. They’d need to come, like, next week.”
“I’m sure you’d be able to figure things out. Or you can wait until you return.”
“I’ll think about it tonight,” I tell my dad. “Check and see if flights are even available, and then give them a call tomorrow.”
“How’s the body holding up?” he asks, changing the subject.
“Good. I felt strong all through the season and into the playoffs. Better than I expected to feel after playing so much. But it also helps that I live with a physical therapist. She never lets me play off any ailment. So, I’m sure that helped how healthy I was going into the playoffs.”
“See, another reason she’s good for you,” Dad says on a laugh.
“I completely agree.”
We sit outside for another twenty minutes or so, shooting the shit. Talking about everything from hockey to my sisters, to him and mom, and my grandparents’ aging issues.
“Hi.” I press my lips to Julia’s temple as I take the seat next to her, once we head back inside. “What’d I miss?”
“Oh, nothing super important. Just a few stories from your childhood,” she says, a smirk on her face.
I point at my sisters with an accusatory glare. “Don’t believe everything these two tell you.”
“But, they’re good storytellers.”
“Yeah, stories. Not actual facts,” I protest teasingly.
“I’ll only believe what they have photographic evidence of,” she jokes back.
“Even that could be embellished.” I laugh. “I wouldn’t put it past my sisters to go and Photoshop a picture of me to try and embarrass me.”
“Don’t give us any ideas!” Bea says with a bark of laughter. “Next, we’ll just show her the home videos.”
“Not the videos. Please. Not. The. Videos,” I plead with my sister and have everyone laughing at me.
The Hardest Shot: Indianapolis Eagles Series Book 7 Page 16
