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“Same,” is all I manage to gasp back.
I curl my legs around his hips as he rocks into me. The world narrows to the point of friction of him moving inside of me. I don’t care about the people in the yard, probably wondering where their hosts went. I don’t care about the burgers on the grill or the flies nipping at my cupcake frosting.
There’s only Beck. His hands, his mouth, his cock.
He kisses me deep and long, holds onto the back of my head while his cock plunges deeper into my pussy. I cling to him, meet every thrust, mean every moan.
“I can't wait to watch your belly grow,” he growls as he drives into me.” You're going to be beautiful. Fuck, I think I’m already looking forward to getting you pregnant again.”
I burst out laughing, although when he drags me closer and unlocks a new spot deep inside of me, the laugh morphs into a gasp. “Who says I want to have another baby with you?”
His grin twists viciously. “Who says I'll give you a choice? I want you, Sloan. I want this family. You, me, and our own little hockey team.”
“You’re out of your mind,” I say with another delirious giggle. “I'm not birthing an entire hockey team for you.”
“We’ll see about that.”
His hands burn a trail over my skin as we continue touching and tasting one another. His tongue is salty and smokey and I want to devour every inch of him. I can only hold on because the pressure is building inside of me.
He spins us so I’m against the wall. It’s the briefest pause before he’s powering into me again, smashing me flat against the wall, his mouth hot and wet on my throat.
I moan. He moans. The passion surges between us.
He thrusts harder, faster, deeper, until I don’t think I can hang on anymore. When I shatter, his body tenses and he holds me to him. “Fuck, Sloan. It’s good to be back.”
When I can breathe again, I look at him and smile. “Welcome home, Beck.”
36
SLOAN
The rest of the party is a blur of fun and laughter. By the time it winds down, though, I’m wiped. Beck and I are hanging out on the couch, decompressing and recharging our social batteries, when the doorbell rings.
I frown. We’ve got a whole security firm whose explicit job is to keep strangers from barging onto the premises. So who could be ringing a doorbell unannounced?
Surely notthe Bloodhound…
Right?
Beck looks at me then at the door. When I shrug, he pushes himself to his feet and stalks to the door. His fists are clenched at his sides, ready to swing if the situation calls for it.
I stay seated with an eyeline to the door, my heart pounding frantically in my chest. The Bloodhound wouldn’t come here. He wouldn’t dare. He wouldn’t risk it…
Beck yanks the door open, blocking my view of whoever’s on the doorstep. I can hear some talking, but not distinct enough tomake out individual words. I can only tell that the voice attached to the bell-ringing finger belongs to a woman.
And then she’s in the room with me. A cyclone of focused, buzzing energy. Her golden brown curls flow behind her like gravity is optional. She’s got a bright smile, dimples in both cheeks, and hazel eyes that glow in the low light.
She strides over to me and holds out her hand. “My name’s Holly. Holly Everly. I’m your new handler. Vivian St. James 2.0.”
“Oh.” I blink slowly. Vivian St. James 1.0 was bad enough. Vivian St. James 2.0 sounds like my worst nightmare.
But the woman standing in the living room seems like the exact opposite of a nightmare. She’s pleasant and smiling, but in a professional sort of way, if that makes any sense at all. There’s a bit of a shadow passing behind her eyes, that kind of perma-melancholy that clings to people with sad pasts, but her jade green pantsuit makes it very clear that she’s here for business and business only.
Thank God.Everyone else in this world wants a bite of me lately. It’s nice to meet someone whose agenda doesn’t involve teeth marks on my ass, figuratively speaking.
Beck joins us. “Sloan, this is?—”
“Holly,” I interject. “Yeah. We just met.”
