Page 106 of Playboy

Dark eyes glassy, he nods.

We’re going to have ason.

With a strengthening breath, I pull the blue sparkly paper from the bag and toss it at Noah. My heart thumps as I grasp fabric and pull the tiny Bolts blue jersey out. When I hold it up, the entire crowd goes wild.

“So the little guy can cheer for his daddy,” Daniel says with the shiest grin.

The expression tugs at my heart, like maybe the baby is in there pulling at my heartstrings.

I turn the tiniest jersey I’ve ever seen around, and when I find a number 18 and the nameHallemblazoned above it, I grin so wide my cheeks hurt.

“Wanted my family to have matching jerseys.” The low rasp claws at my defenses.

“And I’m your family?” I ask, heart thundering.

God. This is it. I think I finally get what he’s been trying to tell me all along.

With an arm around my waist, he pulls me close. “Yeah, dream girl. You and our baby are my family.” He ducks and examines my face, his lips tugging down. “Why are you crying?”

I hadn’t even noticed I was, but I don’t even care. “Because I just—” I shake my head and cup his cheek. “Do you love me, Daniel?”

He blinks at me, a deer in the headlights.

“Because,” I sniffle, “I think I may be head-over-heels in love with you.”

“Holy shit.” He leans into my hand.

Tears continue to fall, my smile only growing, along with my heart. “No. Actually, no thinking. I’m in love with you, Daniel. And I’m really happy you’re my family.”

Forehead pressed to mine, he sucks in a deep breath and closes his eyes. When he blinks, tears crest his lashes. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy in my entire life. I’ve been in love with you for a long time, dream girl. I’m so crazy in love with you I don’t even know what to do right now.” Then, straightening with a jolt, he yips and holds up my hand. “I love this woman!”

My chest expands, like it’s carving out a permanent space for him as the people gathered cheer.

I lean my head against his chest, plastering my body to his, the tiny jersey fisted in my hand pressed between us. “I can’t wait to come to the games with our son and cheer on my favorite Bolts player of all time.”

He kisses my forehead. “Say it a little louder. I’m not sure everyone heard you.”

Laughing, I tip my head back and rest my chin on his chest. “You’re my favorite person of all time.”

“Fuck, Han. I’m getting hard, and your brother isright there.”

A zap of electricity arcs through me. “Take me home, Playboy. I want to make love to my favorite hockey player of all time.”

CALLIOPE’S COLUMN

September

The Art of Getting What You Want by Speaking (or Texting) Up

One of the hardest struggles women face is telling others what we want. We can complain to our friends about what our significant other isn’t doing. And hell, we might even be able to tell them what we wish he would do. However, the moment most of us are sitting in front of the person who is askingwhat do you want?we freeze.

This is tenfold when it comes to sex.

Maybe it’s because we’re taught to be demure, to be quiet, to be appreciative of what we’ve been given.

Fuck that.

Men don’t have a problem telling us to get on our knees. They don’t struggle with dirty talk. So why should we?

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