“Pretty sure that was the other team’s captain,” I tease.
“That’s what I let everyone think. But it was you, Bea. I had no idea what you were smiling at, but damn, I wanted it to be because of me. And don’t even get me started on what it was like to kiss you,” he whispers, his lips brushing my ear as he does, sending a shiver racing down my spine. “What I wouldn’t give to do that again.”
My lips twitch at the corners, my blood heating; I’ve spent far too many hours since that night thinking about kissing him again.
His hand drops, his fingers wrapping around my throat, the ink on his fingers a stark contrast to my pale skin.
“Your skin here, right above your pulse point. So soft, so sweet.”
“Everett,” I whimper.
He groans as his hand continues moving, the other joining as he gently brushes my arms with his knuckles.
Goosebumps erupt, and my nipples pebble so hard they’re impossible to miss.
“And this,” he says, dragging my eyes to my stomach as he places both of his hands on my skin. Despite my belly starting to grow, his giant hands engulf it. “Right here is where our baby is growing.”
A lump crawls up my throat as I watch his thumb graze my skin.
“It might not have been a part of our plan, but sweetheart, it’s incredible.” His eyes lift, finding mine. “Youare incredible.”
I swallow thickly, my heart racing like a runaway train in my chest as his fingers twitch just above the waistband of my panties.
“Bea,” he breathes before ducking his head and pressing his lips against my shoulder, although his dark, hungry eyes never leave mine.
My core aches, my thighs clenching to try and abate the incessant throb between them.
I need him.
I need him so badly I could cry.
What am I saying? I’m already crying.
His words. The way he’s touching me.
It’s all too much.
“Please.” The word is barely audible, but the hitch in his breath tells me he heard it.
“Sweetheart, tell me to stop,” he begs, pressing in closer behind me, allowing me to feel exactly what this is doing to him.
Our eyes continue to hold as my head and my heart battle for dominance.
But before I can say another word, he makes the decision for us.
“I…I gotta go,” he stutters roughly before he marches out of my bedroom, and, from the loud slam of the front door that vibrates through me, the apartment—leaving me cold, desperate, and vulnerable.
56
BEATRICE
Ihad a bath, but I’d be lying if I said it did anything to help the emptiness in my chest after Everett ran from me. And in the hope of distracting myself, after stuffing all my useless clothes in the closet—out of sight, out of mind, yeah right—I propped myself against the headboard, opened my laptop, and got to work.
But it didn’t help. My head was spinning with everything he said, the memory of the way his breath rushed over my heated skin, the brush of his lips against the shell of my ear, and the protective way his hands covered my belly.
I feel like somehow, somewhere, I did something wrong. But other than begging him for more—which, surely, can’t be wrong—I can’t figure it out.
He wanted me. It was written all over his face. And when he pressed his body against mine, the evidence was right there against my ass.
