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Like he’s thinking the same thing as me.
That this is significant.
Him carrying me over the threshold.
But as we come closer to the bedroom, I wave these silly thoughts away and focus on the now.
On this moment.
That I thought would never come. Especially seeing how it’s been over an hour since the kiss in his brother’s office. The time that’s been filled with meeting with his teammates. Apparently they were lurking around the hallway, and as soon as we came out of the office, several of them made their approach.
At first I was a little overwhelmed. Only because my mind had been on other things, such as how fast we could go back to touching each other again. But slowly I relaxed because they were all very nice to me, smiling and polite, congratulating me on the babies.
Soon I figured out that Ledger is close to only a couple of guys: A guy named Riot Rivera, the same guy that was with him when Stellan had called a halt to practice to I assume give them some pointers; and this other guy named Vlad Pavlov. While Vlad was talkative and charming, Riot was on the reserved side but of course polite. I have to say that between Riot and Vlad, I liked Riot more. Only because he has a little girl of three named Sophia and he sounded totally enamored while talking about her.
Kinda like Ledger.
I also got to meet or at least say hi to both Stellan and Shep. Despite my impatience to be alone with Ledger, I would’ve liked to talk to his brothers more, just because they’re family and to reassure them that what they had witnessed with Conrad was a total misunderstanding and they shouldn’t blame Ledger.
But the guy in question wasn’t having it.
He let me say hi to them and then he practically dragged me away, leaving the building altogether. He put me in his truck, drove back to our cabin and now here we are.
Me on the bed after he deposited me there, and him standing in the middle of the room, watching me.
Thinking about something.
Which I don’t like; I don’t want him thinking about anything.
I don’t want him to back out, not now. Not when we both have waited and waited for this. And I know he has. If that kiss proved anything, then it was that he’s been waiting too.
He’s been waiting to touch me.
To fuck me.
I still don’t know why he’s been holding back all this time; he probably thinks pregnancy has made me fragile or something. But I’m not letting him get inside his head and ruin this.
So I say the first thing that comes to me. “How did they all know?”
He blinks, jerking a little as if he was so engrossed in watching me and in his thoughts that he’d forgotten everything. Good thing I woke him up then.
“Know what?”
His tone is all scratchy and low, rough, turned on. And it turns me on and changes my voice too as I ask, “Who I was. Your teammates.” Then, I explain, “Even when I got there. The security guard knew who I was and also the guy at reception. They all seemed to know that I…”
I trail off on the account of searching for a better word.
“They all seemed to know that you what?”
I swallow, thinking that perhaps there’s no better word than the one that I already have. “That I… belong to you.”
“Because you do.”
My heart races as I cradle my slightly-swollen belly. “And that I’m having your babies.”
“Because you are.”
I rub my belly in circles. “Well, they all seemed really nice.”
He fists his fingers, watching my movements for a second and I wonder if I’m doing this for myself or for him. If I’m taunting him to come get me, to come touch my belly that I know he wants to.
Looking up, he says, his voice even lower, “They’re not.”
“What?”
“Nice,” he bites out.
“But they all —”
“What they are, are a bunch of fucking horndogs.”
My hand comes to a halt and I frown. “What? That’s not —”
“Who couldn’t keep their eyes off of you.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“Even though they knew,” he clenches his teeth, “that you belong to me.”
“I —”
“And that you’re carrying my babies.”
I shake my head. “I think you’re overreacting, as usual. There is —”
“Although,” his expression is flickering with possession and something else, “I shouldn’t be surprised now, should I?”
“I’m sorry?”
“It’s always been the case.”
“Y-your teammates looking at me?”
“Even back then.”
“You mean when I came to your practice in high school?” I ask, figuring out that the other thing in his eyes is nostalgia.
He’s remembering things from before as he says, “They’d stare at you then too.”
I frown, trying to think back also, “I don’t… remember that.”
“That’s because you couldn’t take your eyes off of me,” he tells me. “So you had no clue what was going around you.”
