Once Upon A Half-Time: A Secret Baby Romance (25 page)

I pumped him in my hand and took a breath. He held me as I guided that hard cock inside me.

We both groaned. I slid down his pulsing shaft, and I shuddered as our bodies met.

Together.

I had no idea how perfect it could feel.

His hands brushed my curves, settling at my waist. I loved his touch. His gaze. The way he smiled, as if he were simply amazed by me.

“I love you,” I whispered.

“You’re mine.”

“I’m yours.”

“Forever?”

I raised my hand, showing him the wedding band. “Just try to take it off me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. It was hell getting it on there.”

“Well, now you have me.” I bumped my hips. “What do you want to do to me?”

“Get married…” He shrugged. “Already did that.”

I smirked. “Make a baby…
whoops
.”

“Have a happily-ever-after?”

I grinned. “I don’t believe in fairy-tales.”

“Better start. This one belongs to you.”

I trembled as he hit the perfect spot inside me.

The perfect husband. The perfect life.

A perfect family.

I ground against him, bouncing little by little against that thickness until my eyes closed, lips parted, and my heart raced my desire to see which would burst first.

Lachlan’s held me—not crushing me against him, not forcing me faster or slower, harder or softer, deeper or shallower. He caressed me. Touched me. Cradled me near and dropped his hand to my tummy, still flat and secret.

As much as I had wanted to prove my love to him, it wasn’t necessary. Every beat of my heart, every grace of my fingertips, every shuddered thrill that warmed my core
was
my love for him.

No words. No promises. No declarations.

Just us.

Connected
.

Sharing a bond that seemed so impossible but strengthened with every whisper, every touch, every quiet whimper that forged our own
once upon a time
.

I gripped him hard, struggling as we both tensed and shifted, shuddered and moaned. A sharp, beautiful, and undeniable pleasure surged through me. The first jet of heat struck me deep.

I blinked through tears as he pulled me close. The shudders crippled me, and the only word I could breathe, say, think,
feel
was his name.

Another promise he had made.

And one that would come true again and again.

I slipped from him, curling against his body.

But I knew Lachlan. He wasn’t done, not yet, not even after a full game and explosion of lust and desire and
love
. He curled my legs over his waist and returned to me, hard, fast, and stealing a kiss.

“It might get a little rough,” he warned.

“You…or life?”

He shrugged, slipping within me once again. “Both.”

I teased him with a touch to his lips. “It doesn’t seem that bad with a husband at my side.”

“And I’ve got a wife and baby to spoil.”

“You know what?” I smiled. “I think we’re gonna be just fine, Charming.”

I
followed
Jack to the sidelines after the time-out. We both stared at the clock.

Third down. Five minutes remaining. Ten points behind. Stuck on the Tigers’ thirty-yard line.

“Give it to me, Jack.”

I didn’t take a drink or a breather, and I forgot the last unsuccessful play. My bruises and pain faded. I shouted at my quarterback for the ball, and I didn’t care if half the stadium heard me.

“Give it to me.”

Jack glanced to our offensive coordinator. He’d been running the team while Coach Thompson took a four game suspension for his involvement in the scandal. He left the decision to our quarterback.

“You want it?” Jack asked.

“You fucking know I do.”

“Think you can handle it, rookie?” He grinned. “You ready for it?”

“Fucking. Give. It. To. Me.”

He tossed the playbook to the coordinator and jogged with me to the huddle.

“Your ass better be wide fucking open,” he said.

“And we shouldn’t tell our wives about this conversation.”

“Get my touchdown, we got a deal.”

“If I get us two, will you stop filling my car with popcorn?”

“Gotta impress me first, Charming.”

The whistles blew. We huddled up—the team silent, panting, and sweating. Time ticked down in the most important game of our season. The league had smacked us hard, taking away draft choices and investigating the coaches. But this game—this Monday night in front of the entire country?

This was how we’d show the world the Rivets weren’t cheaters.

We’d prove we were the best team on the field.

Jack called the play, and we lined up. My role was deceptive. We showed run. I went in motion, crossing behind the line and shifting so we were heavy on the right side.

Jack snapped the ball, and I broke from the block, bursting up the field.

I counted the seconds in my head.

Three. Two. One.

I hooked back. The ball threaded directly into my arms. I snatched the fucker out of the air and sprinted.

A corner dove at me. I spun.

The safety leapt in my path. Fucking child’s play.

I wove to the left, tip-toed against the sideline, and cut to the middle, dodging the other safety and breaking free into the open field.

No one could stop me. I crashed into the end zone at full-speed, ducking away from a defender as the stadium turned hysterical—screaming, cheering, stomping their feet.

I slowed before colliding with the one woman aiming her camera. Elle positioned herself in the perfect spot—as if she knew
exactly
where the ball was coming, how I’d run it, and where I’d end up.

And maybe she did know.

She was quick to dodge me, and her beautiful smile was greater than any six points I’d ever scored in my life.

I tossed her the ball. She juggled it with her camera.

“That’s for Bast!” I shouted at her.

“Where’s mine?”

“It’s coming, Red! You wait right there.”

We kicked the extra-point, and I hauled Jack with me to confront a pacing Cole Hawthorne, staring at the field with that crazed blood-lust that made me glad he was on our team.

I pointed at Cole, regretting it as he stared, ready to snap my finger off. Not the time to piss off
The Beast
.

“Stop them,” I said. “Get that ball for us.”

“The fuck you think I’m doing out there, rookie?”

“I’m gonna win this fucking game.” I forced Cole to look me in the eye. “Get us the ball back!”

Talking like that would probably end with a snapped neck, but Cole nodded.

“Win this game.” He put his helmet on. “I’ll bring you their receiver’s head, but you gotta put the ball in the end zone.”

Jack thrived on the enthusiasm. He had me follow him on the sidelines, rushing lineman to lineman, receiver to receiver, pumping them up, getting them ready.

“We’re gonna get one set of downs,” he said. “This is your show, Charming. You be my right-fucking-hand.”

“Ain’t nothing to it,” I said. “We got this.”

True to his word, Cole pummeled a receiver on third down. He dropped the ball, and the Tigers punted.

Two minutes remaining.

One time-out left.

We could do it.

But the first snap was botched when our center tumbled backwards. The whistle blew almost immediately as Jack fell under our own linemen and two defensive ends. He clutched his ankle but waved away the trainers before they rushed to the field.

Too late.

The referees charged our last time-out. Jack lurched up, limping behind the line as he walked off the pain and called the next play in the huddle.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Not your problem.” Jack pointed to the clock. “We have sixty seconds to go sixty yards. Worry about that.”

But the play call wasn’t for me. I shook my head.

“I want the ball!”

Jack ignored me. “Taking it down the sideline first. Isaac’s got this one.”

We lined up. The snap was quick, and I did my block. We got the ten yards, but no more. Isaac was pushed out at the fifty. It stopped the clock, but the Tigers weren’t giving up the big yardage.

The next call was a timing pattern, a quick drop and spiral over the middle twenty yards down the field. Jack completed the pass to Troy, but we lost time running down the field for the spike.

Twenty-five seconds left on the thirty. Second down.

I beat my chest in the huddle. “Give it to me, Jack. I’ll get open.”

“Shut your mouth, rookie. One more shot to get closer.”

He called the play.

It wasn’t gonna work. I knew it. I think he knew it too. But the radio in his helmet ordered another pass to a receiver.

I lined up, the ball snapped, and Jack dropped back to throw. Isaac grabbed it, but he wasn’t near the sidelines.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I bolted to the line, but the team was slow. Jack snapped it on the fifteen and stopped the clock.

Ten seconds left. This was it.

I didn’t need to hear the call. I read it in Jack’s eyes.

Time to prove my worth.

The past four weeks I’d played well. Held my own. Kept the team alive.

This was the moment that would define me.

The sweat stung my eyes. I wiped it away. Didn’t matter. More would spill. I couldn’t catch my breath, and every second I spent on my feet shocked me with a piercing agony even the adrenaline couldn’t cure.

Jack barked the snap count. My heart lurched.

The ball snapped.

And I sprinted, slamming through the linebacker assigned to cover me and jetting across the field. I cut, turning just as Jack found me in the open field.

The pass spiraled through the air. A defender leapt to bat it away.

I surged forward, nipping the ball with my fingertips and grasped it just as I lost my balance and tumbled through the back of the end zone. I plummeted to the ground, swearing the entire way.

I didn’t breathe until the stadium started to cheer.

I’d fallen into line of media and reporters, but Elle was the first one there.

She snapped a picture. I gave her the ball.

“It’s yours, Red!”

She took it and leapt out of the way as the offense crashed through the end zone. Jack beat everyone there, chasing me down the field the instant the ball was in the air.

He slammed into me, pulling me into a hug, beating my helmet and cheering louder than anyone in the stands.

“That’s what I want from you!” He slammed his hands into my chest. “Every fucking game, rookie. Every single one!”

The game ended, and the success belonged to me.

A victory over my opponents. A win for the team.

And the proof that I needed.

This
was where I belonged.

H
ow many football
players did it take to ruin a photoshoot?

One. His name was Lachlan Reed.

“Who’s idea was this again?” I groaned, lowering the camera onto my swelling belly. “You take any longer, Charming, and this baby’s gonna pop out.”

He grinned, flexed, and made a kissy face at the camera. “Our boy’s still got two months to cook. But these guns…” He kissed his biceps. “These are prime grade, ready for the spotlight.”

I snapped a shot and gave up. It wasn’t even
our
shoot. Lachlan was selected by the league for one of their Rookie/Veteran shoots—a passing of the mantle for players close to the end of their reign and the up-and-comers. It was one of Piper and Leah’s initiatives.

Piper huffed though, marching into Lachlan’s shoot with a finger pointed to his face. “If you don’t take this picture before I have to go nurse my infant son, so help me God, Lachlan Reed—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Lachlan backed away, nearly taking the green screen and half of the lights with him. “Easy! I’m sorry!”

I loved that the one person Lachlan feared was Piper Hawthorne.

She loved it too.

“Yeah. I’ll go. Take it.” He snapped his fingers towards the league photographer. “Hurry, man!”

I grinned, shooting a couple behind-the-scene shots that would entertain the rather large female fan base Lachlan had coveted. He posed with the football as the back doors opened.

“Jude!” Piper greeted him with a wide smile. “I knew I could count on you!”

Jude Owens wore a sharp, black suit, matching his long dark hair, intense brow, and stern, perpetually tensed jaw. The running back currently had no home in the league, recently released. Rumor was he contemplated retirement.

He’d never do it.

Not in a million years.

Jude might have had the fancy suit, the killer car, the panty-melting smile, but he didn’t have that championship ring.

And the future Hall of Famer deserved a ring.

He greeted Piper with a polite nod.

“Change of plans.” Piper pointed to his suit. “You’re doing a photo set as the league’s most eligible bachelor.”

“I can hook you up.” I aimed the camera. “Work it, Jude.”

Lachlan held his arms out. “I’m right here!”

“Take your pictures, honey,” I teased.

“You’re carrying
my
baby.”

“Just
one
picture of the sexiest man in the room?”

Lachlan’s expression fell—the sad, kicked puppy dog look. I winked and snapped a picture of my husband. He grinned.

“You’re trouble, woman,” Lachlan said.

“Take your pictures. Jude’s already here.”

The photographer surrendered and abandoned his post. “Forget it. We’re done. I’ll find something salvageable.” He shook his head as he passed me, his words bewildered. “And you’re having his
child
.”

An adventure to be sure.

“
Jude Owens
!” Lachlan hurried to my side, but Jude’s presence distracted him. He grinned like he met one of his idols. “I’m Lachlan Reed. Dude, I watched you
every
Sunday. You’re amazing.”

Jude seemed to keep his thoughts, as well as his smiles, to himself. “Thank you.”

“I mean, after Cole Hawthorne
drilled
you—”

Piper tried to hush him. “Lachlan—”

“It was like...no one even knew if you’d
walk
again.”

She covered her face. “Which I’m sure Jude doesn’t want to talk about.”

“But you came back,” Lachlan said. “He nearly killed you. You spent what? Two weeks in the hospital?”

Jude stiffened. “I…uh, don’t really remember. The doctors said it was eighteen days.”

“Damn, dude. And you’re back on the field! No problem. That’s amazing.”

Jude curled a fist. I pretended like I didn’t see the tremor. Or how he avoided the bright lights. Or that peeking from his pant leg was one black sock…and one navy.

Fortunately, that could be photoshopped. I wasn’t so sure the rest of him could be so easily fixed.

“You gonna play this season?” Lachlan asked.

“I have a couple prospects I’m checking out. Gotta see what’s offered.”

“Did the doctors clear you to play?”

He cleared his throat. “They should. Soon.”

The photographer called for Jude. Lachlan extended his hand again.

“Great to meet you, Jude.”

Jude smiled, but it faded, crumbling into a pained expression. “Good to meet you too…uh…”

Piper and I exchanged a worried glance. My charmer took it in stride.

“
Lachlan
.”

“Right.” Jude nodded. “Of course. Lachlan.”

Lachlan didn’t seem to notice anything strange, but I cradled my belly on the drive home. The worry didn’t go away, even once we picked up Bast to help us plan out the nursery.

My boys picked a
manly
blue. Something fitting the next Reed man to enter the world. Little Nicholas would love it, no matter the color.

Bast darted between us, helping to fluff the football pillows and grinning just like Lachlan.

“I’m gonna be the
best
uncle.” He touched my belly, trying to feel for the baby. “Don’t worry, Elle. I know how the world works. I’ll take care of him.”

“That’s a relief, Sebastian.”

He made a face. “Call me
Bast
.”

Lachlan nearly did a dance around the nursery. “You mean it, little man?”

“Yep. I like
Bast
now.”

And that was the
wrong
thing to say to Lachlan.

“Well, then
Sebastian
, I should probably honor that.”

Bast groaned, and both boys tore up the nursery, tossing pillows and blankets and toys at each other. I chased Bast from the room with promises of popsicles in the freezer. I grabbed Lachlan before he followed, bellowing his preference for orange.

“Not so fast,” I said.

He never missed a chance to hold me. He dropped low, kissed my belly, and took my hand.

“Yes, Mrs. Reed?”

“Promise me something?”

“Anything.”

I still couldn’t shake the unease from meeting Jude. “Please…don’t get hurt? Like…ever?”

“You don’t have to worry. Cole’s on our team.”

“You know what I mean. Jude seemed perfectly fine, but I could just tell…”

He brushed my cheek. “Jude’s concussion prone. Everyone knows it. But he wants to win the big one before he retires.”

“Well, don’t you get
concussion prone
.” I poked his chest. “No game is worth your health.”

“The championship is. We lost in the playoffs this year. That was unacceptable.”

“Lachlan—”

“There’s an easy way to fix this, Red.” He gently kissed me, nibbling my lip. “You tell me you want me to win a championship, and I’ll be compelled to do it.”

“
Compelled
?”

“You put that magic spell on me the first day we met. Hasn’t broken yet.”

“So you’re only with me because of a
spell
?”

“Nah.” He laughed. “I love you cause you’re smokin’ hot.”

My hands fell to my hips. It only pushed my swelling tummy out further. Lachlan liked that.

“I also love that sass. The hundreds of knick-knacks that have filled every corner of my house. The way that eyebrow quirks when you think I’m being a jerk.”

I sighed. “Go on.”

“I love that you’re carrying my baby.”

“Obviously.”

“I love that you never gave up, even after all those pictures and interviews came out.” He took my hand. “I love that you came back to work because there was a job to do, and it was yours to do. I love that you helped to heal this team, that you kept us honest.”

“Not bad.”

“I love that Coach Thompson can’t even
look
at you.” Lachlan’s expression darkened. “Though I have my own reasons for that, and until he’s fucking fired—”

I covered his lips with a finger. He kissed.

“I love how good you are with Bast.” He pulled me close. “I love how good of a mother you’re going to be. How much you care about this family.”

“Never had a real one before.”

“You got one now.” Lachlan pressed his forehead into mine. “Okay. Your turn.”

“My turn?”

“You gotta love me. Count the ways.”

“There’s too many.” I placed a hand over his chest. “This is the biggest one though.”

“My muscular physique?”

I considered it. “No. Your heart. Because you knew when to listen to it, even when I was too scared to admit everything I felt. You love so hard, Lachlan. Every day with you is a rush.”

“So is every night.”

“That goes without saying.”

“Now do you believe in fairy-tales?”

I smiled, pulling him closer for another kiss.

“You tell me, Charming.”

T
he End