Page 49 of Christmas Cheer

“Harder,” I whimper as my vision goes white. I don’t even think the sofa will survive harder.

“Whose cock is this?” Evan grunts as he finally gives up on his pregnancy-fragility hang-up and tilts my knee to pivot my pelvis. The new angle he thrusts into me has me squeaking wordlessly until he pauses and says, “Answer me, Keira. Whose cock is this?”

“It’s mine,” I groan, coming again on his next thrust. “It’s mine. It’s mine.”

His eyes start to roll back a few seconds later, and somehow he manages to untie my wrists and roll me onto my side so he can lay behind me and snuggle close as he comes deep within me.

“You’re mine,” he practically purrs as he kisses behind my ears and his cock floods my pussy and my whole body feels so goddamn good within his hold. “And I’m yours. And I’m not sorry, not even in the slightest, for doing what had to be done to put this baby in you, okay?”

I sigh. “It wasn’t your decision to make,” I mutter, not wanting to fight him about this now when I’m not going to have the right words.

He surprises me with, “You’re right. But you would have said no. And you would have been right to say no, but the wrong decision needed to be made. We would have spent our lives miserable without each other because it would have been impossible to make our lives work out if we weren’t forced to work it out. Now we’re gonna fucking work this out. Maybe you’re not seeing it yet, but one day you’re going to admit the smartest thing I’ve ever done is poke holes in our condoms and give you a laxative instead of a morning after pill.”

“Oh. My. God.” I flail my hand behind myself, attempting to smack him but hitting mostly ass and arm. “Do you know how awful that flight was because of you?”

“Okay, I will apologize for that.”

Chapter 18

Evan

Keira’s wearing my necklace.

She may be gearing up to kick and scream at me. I may be entering the biggest fight of my life, but at some point before we were reunited, she put onmynecklace and kept it on for her appointment with the obstetrician. It’s a nice necklace, but Keira’s not a pretty-bauble sort of girl. She wouldn’t be wearing it if it wasn’t important. This is important.

Nothing brings me greater joy than cleaning her up and tucking her into bed for a bit of relaxation. I don’t know if she’s needing naps now, but I figure everyone likes the occasional mid-afternoon post-sex snuggle under the blankets.

Every time I touch her, I have to touch her tummy, too. That tiny swell, that itty lump of baby in there, is pretty much the most awesome thing in the whole world. I know I’m probably driving her crazy with the constant touching, but I can’t help it.

I’m going to have to say goodbye to her in a couple days. No more permanently than when I said goodbye to her at the airport, but I’m about to miss so much. She’ll be nearing the end of her second trimester before I see her again. I won’t be able to take care of her. She’s a strong, independent woman. I have no doubt that she can take care of herself. But I want to take care of her. My heart tightens just thinking about it.

I order room service for us, and she gives me a sweet, groggy grin. “You understand that if you did move here, this won’t be your life anymore, right? No more suites, no more room service.”

I wink at her. “I guess it’s a good thing I know how to cook, then.” I pull up a recording on my phone and start it up while we wait for the food to arrive.

There are three people on the recording: Tamara Godwell, owner of the Wilmington Juggernauts, GM Maurice Bradley, and me. When the recording starts, there’s a lot of background sound from the restaurant we’re sitting at, but my phone must have something in it that detects and amplifies the foreground sound. In just a few seconds, our voices are clear as we talk about the Combine, which had just been a couple weeks before.

“What is this?” Keira asks as she throws her arm over my waist and her leg over mine. She’s got her head on my shoulder and I swear is about to climb on top of me just to see what I’m looking at before I turn the screen to her.

It’s black.

“This is our other option,” I tell her. “The Adler are very much on the table, but I said there were two. This is the Juggernauts.”

She studies me skeptically, and already I feel her cooling off. She doesn’t move off of me, but she closes herself up almost imperceptibly as she again looks at the dark screen. “Is thereanotherJuggernauts?” she asks.

On the recording, Godwell says, “I think you’ll be very happy with the roster we’ve built already. The other teams have been extremely generous.”

To that, I respond, “It’s not about the players.”

In my memory of the conversation, I can hear the creaking of the chair as Bradley leans forward in his seat, but it’s lost in the din of the background sound. “Then tell us what it is. We’ve not wasting the first draft pick on someone who’s not a guarantee.”

Keira gasps and sits up on her knees, barely missing crushing my dick. “Evan, what is this?”

“It’s a recording I probably shouldn’t have taken of a conversation I had with the owner and the GM of the Juggernauts. Yeah, those Juggernauts. They’re recruiting me hard, and they’re willing to negotiate with me.”

As though there might be hidden cameras in this room as well, Keira leans down and whispers, “Is this legal? This isthedraft!”

I cringe and shrug my shoulders against the headboard I’m propped up against. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. With the line-up they’ve gotten already, I have a feeling they’re doing a lot of shady shit. But since they’re an expansion, maybe this is allowed?”

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