“Noted.”
We part and step out of the security gate, almost running right into a guy standing there. He quickly turns away, lowering his Colts hat, and walks down the sidewalk. I give Hayes a confused look.
“No one said all the fans were female.” Hayes chuckles.
“I guess not.” Still, something sour knots in my stomach as I watch the man blend into the crowd.
If he was a fan, wouldn’t he have wanted to stick around and ask for a picture or something? At least see which Colts player was coming out of the building?
“Let’s go back so Leighton can tell me she told me so.” He holds the door open to Peeper’s, motioning for me to go in.
We walk into the backroom, and it’s as if nothing happened. Decker and Easton are arguing about darts. Leighton and Foster are chatting. But when Foster glances up and our eyes catch, I see his relief—and I know Hayes is right. We’re on the cusp of something, and we need to be certain before things go any further.
Which is a lot harder when he’s looking at me like that.
Chapter
Thirty-Four
Callie
* * *
It’s been two weeks since Hayes and the entire country found out about the pregnancy, and thankfully the Colts have been traveling more than at home. It’s the best thing that can happen when you’re pregnant, sexually frustrated, and lusting after your roommate.
Because if Foster was here, I’m pretty sure we would’ve already slept together, which is why, since he’s due home tonight, I’m going to get off before I have to see him in the morning.
I drag my vibrator down my body under the covers, opening my thighs, heat already pooling low in my belly.
The soft buzz starts, and my imagination drifts away to Foster.
It’s not even a full, clear picture—just flashes of memory. The way he looks at me with heavy eyes, his mouth set as though he’s holding himself back from tackling me onto the bed, his hands fisted at his sides as though he doesn’t trust himself not to touch me. The way he stands too close, as though he wants to touch me but is trying to respect the line we put in place.
My stomach flips.
I’m doing this for relief. I’m releasing a pressure valve before he returns home tonight. Otherwise, I’m pretty sure the minute he walks in, I’d follow him into his bedroom and strip naked.
My body shivers with pleasure as the vibrator hums between my legs.
I think about his voice when he says my name—low, rough, like how he’d use it if we were in bed together. I think about his hands, big and capable, and the way they’d feel on my skin.
I squeeze my eyes shut, but it only worsens my want for him.
Heat gathers, tight and insistent, and my breath stutters. I press my lips together to keep quiet even though I’m alone and no one can hear me. I lose myself in the hum, the rhythm, and the delirious slow build.
And then my thoughts shift, too dangerous and, more importantly, too honest.
What if I took him up on his offer? A second chance with him, but this time, what if we didn’t rush, but he took his time to prove himself? What if he made me tell him that I was his and made me hate him for it and love him for it in the same breath?
My body tightens. My pulse thumps hard in my throat.
I’m close. My arousal’s rising, right at the edge where everything goes sharp and bright and?—
The vibrator sputters to a stop.
No. No, no, no.
I press the button again.
