Page 109 of Resisting the Running Back

He slams into me, his movements slow as we both fly over the edge of bliss, and he pumps a few extra times before he holds himself still inside of me as we both ride out the release to the very end.

He stays inside me and bends over me as he moves to kiss me, our tongues tangling together as we express our love in a tender way after the intensity we just shared. I taste my own tang still on his tongue as he kisses me, and somehow knowing that’s me on his breath is intoxicating.

Eventually he pulls out of me and straightens. He disposes of the condom and pulls his pants back into place, and then he picks me up from the counter and into his arms.

He carries me through the house and up the stairs, and he sets me on the bed. “Do you want a shower or bath?” he asks.

“Mm, shower,” I say.

He nods, and I hear the water turn on a moment later. He returns naked and carries me to the shower, and he sets me on the bench in there. He takes care of me, washing my body with the loofah and rinsing me with the shower head. He washes my hair, and then he washes himself, too, and I never have to lift a finger. I don’t even have to stand. He brings me a towel and dries me next, and eventually I force my exhausted body to stand so I can comb out my hair and put on some clothes for bed.

And when he climbs in beside me, for the first time in the last few days, I finally feel like maybe, just maybe, everything’s going to be okay.

CHAPTER 49: Sophie Summers

Large Fries

I take Cassie’s kids supply shopping, and apparently kids are better behaved for people who aren’t their mom. I have a great time with the kids, and Luca ends up with everything Minecraft while Lily ends up with cute little Squishmallow things for the upcoming school year.

Miller is busy all week with various workouts and meetings, but he’s been better about communicating, at least. We do dinners together, and things mostly seem to be back on track. He’s back to being the book boyfriend of my dreams…for the most part.

There’s just one big problem.

Neither one of us has addressed the rather large elephant in the room.

It’s sometimes all I think about, and other times I’m able to push it out of my thoughts so I can focus. I’m almost finished writing the first draft of my next book, which is perfect timing since advance copies of my new release are going out Monday—the same day Miller starts training camp, and then the marketing for the new release begins, and I won’t have as much time andenergy to focus on getting new words when I’m in marketing mode.

Except Miller won’t be here. I won’t have anything else to focus on, and I’ll be going stir-crazy as I wait to get my period or miss my period or figure out when I can take a test to find out if that broken condom actually means anything at all for our future.

And even if Idofind out either way…when do I tell him?

A negative is easy. I can do that over the phone. Over text, even.

But a positive?

I have no idea how to handle it.

So I count the days and wait for my period to come, trying my best to put the whole idea out of my head even as I stand at the grocery store staring at the different pregnancy test options on a Thursday afternoon by myself.

I should buy one. Right? I should have one at home for when I’m ready to take it. This box says it has results six days sooner. That test says it’s ninety-nine percent accurate. That one has a line. That one has a digital screen that sayspregnantornot pregnant.

And it’s as I’m standing in the aisle at the grocery store staring at pregnancy tests on a Thursday morning that I hear my name.

“Sophie?”

I turn and gasp. “Cassie! What are you doing here?”

“Uh, shopping,” she says, nodding to her cart. “What are you doing?”

I glance at the row of pregnancy tests in front of me, and my eyes widen as I suddenly feel very caught. “Um…” I trail off, and I grab a box of condoms. “Fresh out,” I say, holding up the box with a cheesy smile that I hope is good enough to pass the test.

It has to be good enough. I already know Cassie can’t keep a secret, as proven on the cruise, and I don’t need her spreading the news all over town that Sophie was shopping for pregnancy tests at the grocery store.

I should’ve ordered these online. Doing this in person in a store when I’m with someone as high profile as a pro football player was a dumb move—and that’s without thinking I might run into someone I know. Someone who can’t keep secrets.

My act must be good enough to pass the test because she starts with casual conversation. “The kids can’t stop talking about their shopping and lunch date with Aunt Sophie. They want you to take them to lunch again.”

I laugh. “It’s because I let them both order large fries at McDonald’s. They said you never let them.”

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