She threw me a You-know-what-I-mean look, and I laughed.
“He was volunteering when he could during the regular season.” Which had only been two times. “As for what you’re really asking, yes, I’ve been seeing him lately—but strictly as a friend. He’s helping me out with the fundraiser. Remember?”
The fundraiser that Emma and I had been talking about before the game. She had even found a venue to hold the event and cater it.
“Well, you know what happened with the hockey player who helped me with my fundraiser.” She wiggled her ring finger at me.
“Honestly, it’s nothing like that,” I told her. “He’s just a supportive friend.”
“Who took you to your ultrasound appointment and showed up at your gender reveal party.”
“Travis and Wes showed up at that party, too,” I said in Logan’s defense.
“That’s because they’re married to Hannah and me. They didn’t have a choice.” She grinned, and I chuckled.
A memory of what Logan and I had done in the bathroom wiggled its way in. I tried pushing it away. The memory didn’t budge.
It only became more insistent, reminding me of that mind-numbing orgasm—an orgasm that worked wonders at the time but had since left me, sadly, even hornier.
Last night, I might have even imagined it was his fingers getting me off.
And let me just tell you, my fingers were a poor substitute compared to his.
I could feel the temperature in my cheeks rise from thinking about it.
“Oh, wow, there’s more to it than that, isn’t there?” Emma grinned at me as if I’d turned into a giant sparkly diamond. “And don’t try to deny it. I can see it in your eyes, and”—she shrugged—“you’re blushing.”
Dammit. No more thinking about Logan. No more…
“Okay, I like him as maybe more than a friend. But don’t get any crazy ideas.” The last part came out in a big rush. “Our situation is complicated.”
“Daddy, Daddy!” The TV had flashed to the Rock’s bench, and Kat had spotted her father next to Logan.
My traitorous body released a dreamy sigh. Logan might’ve been all sweaty from playing hard, but that didn’t seem to bother my body. If anything, it made me hornier.
Emma snickered next to me. I didn’t dare glance at her to check the reason behind it.
There was no point. Emma was aware of what I was going through.
“How did you survive being pregnant while Travis was on the road?” I asked.
“Oh, God, it was the worst. If he had been home, we could’ve fire-trucked every night. But I was pregnant during the regular season and had to endure his road trips, some of which were long. I pretty much jumped the poor man every time he came home from being away.”
I laughed. “I can see how that would happen.”
“I take it no one warned you before you became pregnant with your husband’s little swimmers that, thanks to your hormones, your sex drive would go into overtime?”
I stretched my lips in what felt like an awkward grin. “No, that definitely wasn’t in the fertility clinic’s information pamphlet.”
Emma giggled, seeming not to notice my sudden discomfort at the line of questioning. “Hannah complained about the same thing. But fortunately for her, she found a solution.”
“What did she do?”
“She had a friends-with-benefits deal with a guy she was friends with.”
“What happened to the guy?”
The corner of Emma’s mouth twitched. “She married him.”
Good thing I wasn’t looking for a husband or a baby daddy for Love Bug, because what happened between Hannah and Wes wouldn’t happen to me.
There would be no wedding vows.
All I had to do was wait for Logan to return, and everything would be all right in the department of horny hormones.
For now, anyway.
27
Kiera
The day after the Rock played in Edmonton, I stood in the elevator of Logan’s building, willing it to move faster. If I wasn’t twenty-one weeks pregnant, I would have sprinted up the stairs to his condo.
Of course, if I hadn’t been pregnant in the first place, I wouldn’t have needed to see Logan, stat.
Each floor the elevator climbed, my palms grew clammier. Logan knew my reason for visiting him. We had agreed at the party to temporarily add “benefits” to our friendship.
But I had no clue what he was expecting.
This wasn’t like a typical one-night stand. And it wasn’t as if I could google instructions on the topic.
Yes, I did try doing that, which was how I knew about the lack of etiquette protocols for situations like this.
Online, anyway.
The elevator eventually opened after what my horny body deemed to be several lifetimes. I walked down the hallway, my fingers itching to start removing my clothes to save time.
Luckily, my brain still had some control over my body—by a sliver of a margin.
I knocked on his door. It swung open a moment later.
“Hi—” That was the only word Logan managed to say before my lips found his.
My hands shoved the hem of his T-shirt up his body. In the recesses of my mind, the etiquette police told me to at least say hi to him.
“God, I want you so badly,” I murmured instead, barely pausing long enough to inhale air into my lungs.
Logan didn’t argue or protest or say the same. He reversed, his mouth on mine. I could only assume we were headed for his bedroom. At least we were in agreement there.
He paused our kisses long enough to yank his T-shirt up over his head before his mouth was on mine again.
There was something familiar about his kiss—like I was coming home after being away for a long time.
I couldn’t explain it.
And at this point, I didn’t even want to try.
I had more important things to do.
Like getting Logan naked.
Logan bumped into the wall behind him.
I would’ve said oops, but I was a little preoccupied. My fingers were now on the button of his jeans. His were busy sliding the fabric of my maternity top over my belly. I helped him remove it and tossed it somewhere on the floor in his room.
His gaze dropped to my purple lace maternity bra that I’d bought yesterday, just for this occasion. I might be pregnant with a stranger’s baby, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t feel sexy.
But not for Logan’s benefit.
Completely for mine.
But the way he was looking at it, eyes dark, he definitely approved. “Christ, you’re fucking gorgeous.”
My breath caught at his words. His voice was rough like gravel, and something about it caused a fluttering in my chest like a thousand butterfly wings beating in harmony.
“So are you. I mean…not gorgeous…but hot.” Oh, God. Now I sounded like a babbling fool.
Logan smiled indulgently and ran his thumb lightly over the lace, not touching my nipple but still managing to cause the bud to pebble.
He ran his thumb, again, across my now aching breast. The tip grazed my nipple, and my legs almost buckled under me.
As though sensing what I needed, Logan crouched, his hot, moist breath causing my breasts to beg for everything he was willing to give me—and more. They tingled with want, tingled with desperation.
Oh, God. Please.
Logan’s face turned up to mine, and a smug smile met my gaze.
“I said that out loud, didn’t I?” I asked.
He laughed. “No one ever accused me of not aiming to please.” He sucked on my nipple, bra and all.
I released a whimper and knotted my fingers through the soft strands of his hair.
Logan continued to tease me, taking me to the edge, until I could barely stand upright any longer. While he did that, the other hand was busy pinching the otherwise neglected nipple. All I could do was groan.
And thank my lucky stars, solar system, and galaxy th
at at least for the next several months, Logan was mine.
Not mine in the sense that he was my boyfriend or husband.
He wasn’t even a lover.
He was so much more—in a way, I couldn’t even define.
Not even to myself.
He straightened and guided me to his bed.
“By the way, congratulations on winning Tuesday’s game,” I said, palming the hard length in his jeans.
The hard length that I’d been fantasizing about since Sunday, when we’d agreed to be friends with added perks.
Was this the first time I’d congratulated him?
Nope. Not at all. I’d texted him as soon as the Rock won the game.
But hello? Thanks to the team winning the series, they had advanced to the next round, so he deserved all the congratulations he could get.
And I planned to congratulate him in a moment in a way that words alone couldn’t convey.
“Thank you,” he husked, his voice as strained as his cock was against his jeans.
Unable to wait any longer for the next part, I quickly removed my maternity pants and socks, leaving me in only my bra and matching panties.
Correction…leaving me in only my bra, panties, and a slip fashioned from awkwardness.
In college, when I’d had a thing for Logan, I’d imagined a few times what it would feel like to make love to him.
This was before I met Stephen, during those months of my secret Logan crush that even my close friends hadn’t known about.
But never in any of those fantasies had I imagined myself standing in front of him while pregnant with another man’s child.
All right—I’d never imagined myself pregnant with Logan’s child, either.
Not that I was pregnant with his child, but you know what I mean.
I tilted my head to the side, trying to get a read on Logan. But it was hard to tell what he was thinking. The only light in his room came from the faint moonlight glowing through open slats of the blinds. Dark, blurry stripes slanted across my belly.
He stepped closer to me—until he was barely an arm’s length away—and brushed his thumb across the swell of my belly. “You still want to do this?”
There was uncertainty in his tone, but I couldn’t tell what it was directed at. Was he having second thoughts?
Some people think pregnancy is sexy, although I assume those people weren’t pregnant when they said it. There was nothing sexy about needing to pee every five minutes or having swollen ankles.
Logan could be one of those who didn’t believe pregnant women were sexy. I mean, sure he thought my bigger-than-normal boobs were great. But what man didn’t appreciate big breasts?
I caught my lower lip between my teeth and nodded. Fear that he would change his mind cut through the air like a knife through a jelly donut. “Do you…?”
He chuckled and stripped his body free of his jeans, leaving him in nothing but his briefs, which were tented with his arousal. “What do you think?”
He closed the rest of the distance between us and trailed the pad of his thumb across my lip. “I want you more than you can possibly imagine, Kiera. But I want to make sure this is really what you want.”
“It is.” As far as I could tell, us having sex was the smart thing to do. It solved the issue of my horniness (when Logan was around). And we were friends who could be mature about the situation because we understood what the other person wanted when it came to a relationship.
This thing between us was temporary—while I was pregnant.
Once Love Bug was born, I would no longer be horny…and I wouldn’t have time for a relationship. My son would be my number one priority.
“It really is what I want.” Leaning in, I kissed him—proving with more than words what I needed, what I craved.
While our lips were still touching, our hands exploring, we stumbled to the bed and lay down. Somewhere between my declaration that this was what I wanted and the bed, my bra bailed on my body, assisted by Logan’s skilled fingers.
His lips moved from my mouth to my jaw and neck, kissing and gently biting my flesh. He skimmed his fingertips along my ribs. I squirmed, my body now super ticklish. A soft laugh escaped me.
Logan chuckled. “I don’t remember you being this ticklish.”
I paused my squirming, momentarily confused by his comment. But then brushed it off. I must have misunderstood him. Maybe he was referring to when he’d seen Stephen and me together.
“Maybe it’s a side effect of being pregnant,” I said. “I’ve never been this ticklish until now.”
“I’m not complaining.” His mouth returned to mine, and he continued dragging his fingers over the curve of my hips.
A moment later, we were both free of our underwear and lying naked on the bed, limbs entwined. A foil wrapper sat on the bedside table.
The bundle of nerves between my legs pleaded for sweet relief. He didn’t even have to touch them for the tinder to ignite. Just the taste of him, the feel of his naked skin beneath my fingertips, his smell was enough to create the spark.
My hands were no less idle than his. After they’d finished exploring his body, inventorying each valley and ridge of his muscles, they drifted south to the part of him that I’d been more curious about.
I wrapped my palm around his hard cock and grinned at the effect it had on him. His moan did more than just make me smile, though. The nerves cushioned between my legs grew more excited.
Luckily for them (and me), they didn’t have to wait much longer for relief. Logan’s fingers slipped between my sex. “God, you’re so wet,” he said.
I swallowed, willing my body not to explode just yet. Although I suspected once his fingers found my clit, I’d be done for.
I widened the space between my legs, giving him better access.
Turns out I was right when it came to how close to the edge I was hovering. One touch of my clit, and I went right over.
“Oh, God,” I cried out, my body floating skyward, stars sparkling in welcome.
It took several moments before I no longer felt like I’d been turned to Jell-O. I kissed Logan once more and returned to my fun of making him groan from my touch…to the point where he couldn’t last any longer.
“I want inside you.” He shifted me, my back to his chest. A moment later, the condom was rolled onto his length, and his fingers were working their magic on my clit, again.
They continued creating magic as he inched his way inside me.
“Fuck, Kiera,” he groaned.
“Yes, please,” I replied on a moan, needing him more than I’d ever needed anything else.
He chuckled and plunged inside me until he was fully seated, hitting all the right places.
It would seem that I wasn’t the only one balancing on the edge of the precipice. With only a few thrusts of his hips, we were both tumbling over the ledge.
I am a fraud.
Those four words bobbed on the surface of my mind like a piece of chum before Jaws turned it into a midnight snack.
Logan was asleep next to me, exhausted from our three rounds of sex. The early shades of dawn painted faint shadows on his face.
You would have thought that I, too, would be sleeping. And under any other condition, I would have been.
But instead, all I could do was dwell on how it was time to contact Grayson.
No matter what the outcome, I couldn’t drag my butt on this any longer.
This thought had briefly crossed my mind when Logan had tenderly swept his thumb over my baby bump. But the thought had been like wisps of white cloud, barely brushing my mind. I hadn’t registered it until now.
It might not be possible for Grayson to physically be here for me since he lived in Chicago and I didn’t, but I could live with that. And if he didn’t want anything to do with his son, then fine. I could live with that, too.
I carefully wiggled out of Logan’s bed and searched his room in the dim light for my clothes. It took me several minutes to lo
cate everything and put them on.
Logan remained asleep the entire time.
I had fallen asleep for a short period after our third bout of sex but had woken up from a weird dream. I didn’t remember most of it, but I did remember the part about Stephen in a halo and wings and playing a harp (Yeah, I don’t know why he was playing the harp, either. In real life, he hadn’t played any instruments).
Dream Stephen had told me I was ready to tell Grayson he was going to be a father.
Except, Stephen told me by song…like some sort of weird ode.
That was when I woke up.
The rest of the dream was fuzzy.
“Bye,” I whispered to Logan. “I’ll talk to you later.”
The memory of the last time I sneaked out of a man’s room after having sex tip-toed in. But unlike then, I would see Logan again soon. Although I had no idea if he would still want to be my friend once the truth came out about Love Bug’s daddy.
I’d told him that his best friend was the baby’s father. Hopefully, with time, he would forgive me for lying.
I slipped out of his apartment and clicked the door shut behind me. Silence greeted me, the day too early for anyone to be up.
I pressed the elevator down button and sent Ava and Chloe a group text while I waited.
Me: I’m finally ready to contact Love Bug’s real daddy.
28
Logan
I passed the puck to Eli, who shot it at the goal. Kai, our goalie, easily deflected it.
Normally, I’d be thrilled if that happened during a game (the goalie deflecting part). It meant the opposition was robbed of a goal.
But when you were practicing a specific setup with your teammate during the morning skate, the missed goal smarted.
We sprinted to the end of the line of players and performed the drill, again and again and again, until the coaches brought us in for feedback. Then we were on the ice again, practicing a new drill.
The best part about all of this?
It meant I had to shut out everything that wasn’t hockey—including last night with Kiera.
Decidedly with Luck (By The Bay Book 6) Page 18
