“I know,” I admit, tracing the lines of his tattoo.
“You still haven’t moved into my room.”
“Why do I have to move into your room? I’ve already moved into your house.” I prop myself up on his chest and stare down into his beautiful face. “Compromise, charmer. Ever heard of it?”
“My room is bigger.” His hand cups the back of my head. “My bed is bigger.” His lips brush over mine. “And my shower is bigger.” His brows lift, tempting me to argue.
“I do like your shower,” I tease.
“I like youinmy shower.” His fingers trail down my spine, and I purr with the delicious sensations. “I’m in your bed or you’re in mine every night, Ashton. We live together. We’re raising Kyrie together, and you’re pregnant with my baby. Why won’t you move into my room?”
Shaking my head the tiniest bit, I lick my lips and smile. “We’ve been over this, Jamie. We went about things backward. I may be six months pregnant with your baby, but we’ve only been together for a little over a month. I don’t want to rush this.”
Although that argument is beginning to feel ridiculous because I do want to rush it.
I want to move into his room.
I want to create the beautiful life he paints so vividly. The one he’s so sure we can have.
The one I have absolutely no doubt we’re going to build together.
But I want to start that life on a solid foundation, and doing it this way feels more... well, more solid.
Kyrie’s babbling voice echoes through the monitor.
“Mimimimi . . .”
“Sounds like you’re being summoned,” I growl and push him away.
“Don’t hate the player, beautiful. Hate the game. It’s not my fault Jamie is easier to say than Ashton.”
He’s still an ass. A sexy one. A sometimes sweet one. But still an ass.
I scrunch my face up and shove him away with my cold feet. “She’s not saying Jamie.”
“Oh yeah? Then how come you get pissed when she saysMimi?” He throws his long legs over the bed, and my mouth waters. Jamie Murphy in black jersey sleep pants hanging from his lean hips with his deliciously muscled chest shirtless and bare might just be my second favorite sight to see. Him, dressed exactly this way with Kyrie asleep on that bare, beautiful chest is by far my first. “If you started calling yourselfMomwhen you’re talking to her, I bet she’d start babbling that too. You’re still her favorite person, Ace.”
“Yeah well...” I force myself out of bed and throw on my sweater right away. I swear these men keep the air-conditioning at frozen levels of the tundra cold. “That meeting with my mother is this afternoon.”
He grabs me by the waist and spins me around as I try to bypass him for the bathroom. “I’d feel a whole lot better about it if you’d let me go with you.”
I don’t dare tell him I would too, even if it’s the truth. “I know, and I love you for it. I do. But I have to do this alone. I need to have the kind of conversation with my mother that wecan’t have with anyone else around. And you, Jameson Murphy, are kind of a distraction.”
I lift onto my toes and kiss his cheek as his hand settles on the small swell of my stomach. “Speaking of conversations...”
Well, damn. I walked into that one.
“I know,” I growl.
“Camp starts in less than two weeks, Ace. Either the two of you are getting together or not. But if it’s not, you’ve got to at least let me talk to your dad before then. I can’t walk into training camp without my coach knowing I’m in love with his daughter.”
My growl turns into more of a happy sigh. This man can play me like a freaking piano. “Think he’s going to put you in the penalty box for knocking me up?”
“Oh, beautiful, you fucking kill me. That’s hockey. There’s no penalty box in football. It’s a bench, and I might run the risk if he doesn’t fucking know how much I love you. But I know how you can fix it,” he taunts as I laugh.
“I’m not marrying you so you can touch the ball more, Murphy.”
Jamie shakes his head and chuckles. “You’re hopeless, Ace. My job isn’t to touch the ball.”
