Page 86 of Falling for the Pucking Bad Boy

I’m growing on him. I’m sure of it.

And Rory, God, I’m still obsessed with her. She’s everywhere.

At my games.

At home.

In my bed.

I suffered a few muscle strains last season and a concussion which only got me more time with Rory, so no bitching there.

At the sound of the door clicking shut, I glance up from where I’m sprawled on the couch, nursing the last remnants of last night’s aches. The sight that greets me sends all traces of discomfort scurrying – Rory, with that wild, feral look in her eyes that never fails to rev up my heart.

She crosses the room in a few decisive strides, her intent clear as she makes a beeline for me. There's a glint in her eyes. I’ve come to recognize and crave that playful spark more than the cling of fresh ice beneath my blades.

“Hey there, tough guy,” she teases, shedding her coat and dropping it carelessly to the floor. It’s a signal, a silent siren call that has me sitting up straighter, anticipation buzzing under my skin.

She doesn’t say another word, the comfortable silence between us like a second skin. Then, with a fluidity that matches the ease she's always had in moving through my world, Rory climbs into my lap.

Her knees slot beside my hips, a perfect fit, and her arms draping around my neck. My hands find their home along her back, tracing the lines of her muscles with a familiarity that still thrills me down to my core.

I exhale a contented sigh as she leans in, her forehead resting against mine. All the championships in the world can’t compare to the feel of her right here, right now.

“I missed you,” I confess, holding her tighter.

“Me too,” Rory murmurs, her lips trailing a whisper of a kiss along my jaw. “How are you feeling?”

“Better now.”

“I have something to tell you.”

“Mhm.” I press my lips to hers, unable to help myself as she melts into me. “Why don’t you take me to bed?”

She chuckles and presses another chaste kiss to my mouth. “Let me tell you what I wanted to tell you first.”

“You love me and want to have my babies.”

“Actually, I do.”

I groan outwardly because the thought of her carrying my children would set me the fuck off. “Don’t tease me.”

Rory pulls back just a fraction, meeting my gaze with a depth of emotion that pinches at my chest. "I'm not teasing.” Her voice wavers but not with uncertainty; it trembles with the weight of news that's about to change everything in my life. "I'm pregnant."

The world stops.

It literally freezes. Every sound, every breath, and every heartbeat holds its place.

And then it all comes crashing back in a rush so loud it nearly deafens me.

Pregnant.

Rory's pregnant.

We're going to have a baby.

30

EPILOGUE

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