Page 97 of On Thin Ice

She nestled back against me, her ass brushing against my cock, and it took everything in me not to sink inside of her, but she hadn’t been up for sex in the last week. I couldn’t blame her. She was about to give birth, and if I was that far into growing a human who liked sitting on my bladder, I wouldn’t want anyone touching me, either. Of course, my cock was struggling to get the message.

We were less than two weeks from her due date. The nursery was done, and we’d settled into a rhythm that I knew was going to go up in flames as soon as our daughter arrived.

I couldn’t fucking wait.

And I was so damn nervous. I kept my fears internal because she didn’t need my baggage right now, but I was terrified of being a shitty dad. We’d been playing house for the last few months, and I loved sharing my space with her, but I was still panicked about what would happen once she gave birth.

She stirred against me. Her delectable ass shoved all my freaked-out thoughts aside, and I pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. My hand rested on top of her belly, which was as far as I could get my arms around her since that damn pregnancy pillow was tucked in against her front. She’d tried to sleep with the entire thing wrapped around her body, but I’d adjusted it so I could be at her back instead.

Yeah, it was selfish, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“I have to pee,” she muttered, and I couldn’t stop my soft laugh.

She shifted to glare at me. “It’s her fault,” she grumbled as she tried to maneuver herself out of bed. I jumped up to help her.

“Put that away.” She pointed to my tented boxer briefs. “How are you even turned on right now?” She gestured to her belly.

“Because you are beautiful, and your body is banging. Don’t even get me started on your tits,” I said, winking.

She huffed out a breath. “You’re really annoying this morning.”

“How about you pee and do whatever, and I’ll make you breakfast?”

“Just ’cause you’re charming doesn’t mean I want your dick near me,” she mumbled, and I bit back a laugh. I figured it was in my best interest not to mention how she was rubbing up against me just a few minutes ago.

“Whatever you need, Ally,” I said, leaning in and giving her a kiss.

She sank into me, her lips parting. Then she pulled back. “Peeing. I need to be peeing. Stop seducing me.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle before darting out of the room. I wasn’t waiting around for her to throw something at me.

My phone pinged with a text as I put bread in the toaster.

Dad: Did you get me my seats for the game?

Dad: You looked like you were favoring your right shoulder last night. Harty got you good for knocking up his sister, didn’t he?

Dad: Still can’t believe you didn’t wrap your shit up.

Dad: Get me two tickets. Dirk wants to come.

I took in a deep breath and stared up at the ceiling. It’s not like I could avoid dealing with the man since we were scheduled to play in Montreal next week.

Dom: I gave Mom my tickets.

It was a lie, but fuck him.

Dad: Don’t be a shit. Your mother hates hockey. I’m the one who took you to every practice and every game since you were five years old.

Dad: And I know you can get more than enough tickets for both of us. Opposite sides of the ice, of course. I don’t need her glaring at me while I’m taking notes on your playing.

Yeah. Can’t have that.

I should have loved playing in my hometown, even if I was on a different team. Instead, I dreaded the Montreal trips every time. After the game was over, I’d end up with a pages-long message about what I should be doing. As much as I’d wanted to play for my home team, I was grateful every day that they hadn’t selected me during the draft. I’d also added them to my no-movementclause when I’d signed my new contract with the Stampede over the summer so I couldn’t get traded there.

“You okay?” Ally asked, walking into the kitchen. She’d pulled on her standard outfit for hanging at home: leggings and one of my hockey shirts. It stretched a little snugly over her belly now that she was about ready to pop. I hoped her wardrobe didn’t change after our daughter was born. I loved seeing her wearing my name.

Fuck. She’d probably punch me for saying that.

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