A Daddy for Mother's Day_A Secret Baby Romance Page 13

  “Yes!”

  Progress, yes!

  I wrap her legs around mine and hold her waist. She tosses her arms around me, and we start up the stairs in our embrace. She looks me up and down, slowly—or at least as best she can while her head is still jerking around trying to center itself in the spinning room.

  As we near the top of the flight, her eyes go from unfocused to zeroed in on me. A fire appears in her eyes. I can physically see the sudden desire and lust take over her body.

  Before I can ask her what is going on in that head of hers, she moves so fast that her lips are on mine before I can utter a word.

  I stand there in shock for a split second, but then the feel of her lips on mine brings me to life. I wrap my arms around her waist and open my mouth to explore hers.

  I groan slightly as our tongues intertwine.

  I knew kissing this woman would be amazing, but I didn’t realize how amazing it would be. Izzie’s lips are lush and soft.

  I move us towards the wall, her back pressed against it, and her ass resting on the guard rail. My hands move up to cradle her head, allowing me to deepen the kiss, drawing our passions further.

  Izzie’s hands roam all over me as if she can’t decide where to touch me or as if she wants to touch all of me at once. She pushes against me a little, and I break away from her mouth. Our breaths are short and ragged as we stare into each other’s eyes.

  “Take me to bed, Brady,” she whispers.

  With those five words, my body jerks like a bucket of ice water has been dumped over my head.

  What the hell am I doing?

  She’s drunk.

  This isn’t okay. As badly as I wanted this from the moment I saw her tonight, I can’t.

  I quietly walk us to the top of the stairs and set her down against a sturdy wall.

  “Brady? Please,” she pleads.

  “No,” I firmly state.

  She stares at me confused with nothing to say.

  “You’re drunk,” I explain. “I’m not sleeping with you, Izzie. I’ll help you into bed, but I can’t do anything else.”

  The words coming out of my mouth hurt me, but it’s clear she’s just plain offended. I want to take her to bed, but not like this. I want it to be something for her to remember and be proud of, not a drunken regret.

  “Fine,” she says before moving towards the hall.

  I reach out to help her, but she smacks my hands away.

  Izzie stomps towards her bedroom—or as much as she can stomp in her drunken state.

  She gets into the room and tries to close the door on my face, but I don’t let her.

  “I’m not leaving until I’m sure you’re safely tucked into bed,” I tell her.

  She huffs at me. She goes to flop down on the bed, but I reach out and pull her back up to standing vertical.

  “Not happening,” I say. “You need to change into pajamas or you’re going to be bitching in the morning about how uncomfortable you were.”

  I walk over to her dresser and find a matching set of pajama shorts and tank top. I hand them over to her and nudge her in direction of the bathroom.

  She finally listens to me; she knows I’m right.

  Ten minutes go by, and I’m about to go make sure she hasn’t passed out in there when she finally comes out. Dressed in the pajamas—backwards, I might add—she walks over to the bed and climbs on top.

  I walk over to lift the covers over her.

  “Goodnight, Izzie,” I tell her before moving away.

  She doesn’t give me a response. As I reach the door, I hear her soft snores.

  Before closing the room behind me, I take one last glance at Izzie. She’s angelic while asleep; her features are soft and free of any concerns or tension.

  I sigh.

  Get out of here, Brady.

  I close the door and head to my own room. I doubt if I can even fall asleep after replaying that kiss in my head over and over. If I do manage to sleep, I’m likely to dream about it.

  It’s going to be a long night either way.

  Chapter 22

  Izzie

  As I start waking up, I hear a click and the soft, cushioned sound of feet moving across the carpet.

  Oh, man. Liam must need something.

  I stretch before opening my eyes, letting my arms glide effortlessly over the sheets. As I feel around the mattress, I realize they’re so soft and smooth, like silk. Or satin.

  Satin?

  Satin!

  My eyes pop open to a grinning Brady.

  “Good morning, sunshine.”

  He sets a tray that smells divine on the nightstand at the side of the bed.

  As I watched in stunned silence, the food that smelled amazing at first whiff is now making me just the slightest bit nauseated.

  I’m so hungover that it’s not even funny.

  I was pretty torn up last night. I can’t think of the last time I drank so much. But I admit I still remember every single intimate moment clearly.

  Every single one.

  The part where I drunkenly told Brady to sleep with me. Where the hell did that even come from? Like, yes, part of me wants him to take me and ravage me.

  But another part of me is so afraid. I am a virgin, after all. I don’t want him to think I have all this experience and have it end in embarrassment and regret.

  And it totally could’ve gone that way.

  I have to give credit to Brady. He’s the one that called it off.

  He was the brakes! He cock-blocked himself.

  How often does that happen?

  I look to the table and study Brady silently as I ponder this gentlemanly, kind side of him.

  He doesn’t say a word as he proceeds to pour me a cup of coffee and fix it just the way I like it. He must have seen me make it a million times now. I’m pretty sure that’s even almond milk in that little dish he’s pouring in.

  He’s so considerate.

  So observant.

  How have I not noticed how much he pays attention to me?

  No, no, no.

  I snap out of my own thoughts and start trying to piece together last night. I may remember it all, but the order of events is questionable. I look around the room to jog my memory.

  I see my dress that I ripped off, still puddled on the floor where I tossed it last night.

  Yep, that definitely happened. I had hoped that was a dream. This is so humiliating.

  “How are you feeling?” Brady pipes up.

  Glancing at him as he speaks, I quickly avert my eyes.

  He’s only wearing boxers!

  I know I’ve seen him and every other guy on the team in just about this much clothing, but it’s completely different when it’s not at work. I’m not looking at any of them like that there.

  As my heartbeat intensifies, Brady makes it worse. So, so much worse.

  Casually, he slides under the covers on his side and leans back to grab his own mug.

  He looks good enough to eat with his flexing muscles and defined abs pronounced as he takes a sip of his coffee.

  “I think I feel pretty okay,” I lie.

  Actually, this is the hangover from Hell. Stretching my muscles gingerly, I straighten my legs and can’t help admiring the sheets under me—again.“How about you?”

  “How about you?” I ask him.

  I’m desperate to change the subject as I continue to get my bearings.

  I try to discreetly pull the sheet up to give myself a bit more modesty. Not like there’s too much of a point. He’s already seen me stark naked running out of his bathroom after using his tub.

  “Well, I was more worried about your stomach. No nausea or anything?”

  He slides his hips closer to me and folds his right leg up so it’s touching my thigh.

  He’s looking at me earnestly.

  “Oh, no. I feel fine,” I lie again.

  An almost comical look of relief passes over his features. “I wasn’t sure how you would feel. I
was worried enough about you that I moved you into my room. I hope you don’t mind. I was just making sure you were good,” he explains.

  “It seemed like you enjoyed yourself last night. Not that I’m complaining or anything.”

  He smirks and laughs. “I really wasn’t sure how much you could handle. You aren’t very big.”

  My face reddens even more. Could this be any more humiliating?

  “I am so sorry,” I apologize.

  Turning, I put the coffee cup on my nightstand to give him my undivided attention. It’s only as I’m turning back that I realize that I probably just flashed him my ass in my no seam G-string underwear.

  Oops. Kind of.

  As I turn back around towards him, he’s right in my space.

  “What exactly are you sorry for?” he prods, now bracing his arm behind me on the top of the headboard.

  Did he move closer?

  “I…for everything really. But specifically for me being such a manic, insecure mess when I practically jumped you last night.”

  “Well, don’t worry about it. I had a blast, too, Izzie,” he assures me.

  Reaching towards me, he brushes some stray hairs from my face and tucks them back over my shoulder, touching my skin briefly.

  “Well, thank you again, too. The whole night meant...a lot...to me.”

  My words are dragging. My head is going fuzzy. Leaning in as I finish my thought, I connect my lips with his in a brief, chaste kiss.

  The electrical zing between us is immediate and scatters my thoughts.

  I thought for sure I imagined it, that it was the figment of my inebriated imagination. But it’s not. And like most electrical impulses, we seem to be pulled together by external forces.

  I’ve only pulled back a few inches as I contemplate this, staring at him questionably.

  Does he feel it, too?

  Our lips meet again, and the shiver going up my spine makes me let out a brief, soft whimper. Brady immediately runs his tongue along my lips, penetrating and aggressive. I meet his hungry kiss with the same enthusiasm.

  This is what I remember most from last night: passion.

  Pure, undeniable, raw passion.

  All thoughts seem to float away. None of it matters in this moment. There’s only Brady and his arms around me as our lips slide along each other erotically.

  He is such a great kisser. I just can’t get enough of his intoxicating energy.

  Moaning, his arms slowly wrap around me as he pulls me into his lap. My legs wrap around him instinctively as he slides me up his thighs and pins me to him.

  His strong fingers cup my ass as he squeezes me. My pussy is practically burning with desire for the hard cock pressed against it, separated only by his silky, sexy boxers.

  Kissing him deeper, I stroke his shoulders and his neck and even run my fingers through his hair.

  It all feels so right, so perfect.

  My bra grazes his chest sensually as my nipples harden. They feel so sensitive, begging for more attention.

  As if reading my mind, his hands travel up the back of my spine slowly before unhooking my bra. Feeling it loosen, I pull it down my arms and toss it aside.

  As I’m sucking his tongue playfully, my bare nipples graze his chest, sending goosebumps all over my skin.

  I relax into all the exciting sensations being here with him seems to inspire.

  I don’t want it to stop.

  And really, why should it?

  There have been so few opportunities for me to connect or date anyone. It’s no wonder I’m a virgin! But I don’t want to be anymore.

  I know myself. I want this.

  His hands glide around my body to cup my chest, circling and kneading before pinching my nipples lightly. I shudder and pull my mouth back, breaking our kiss.

  We stare into each other’s eyes.

  His gaze drops immediately, and I watch him look at me with admiration and lust.

  “Perfect,” he utters, his lips crashing into mine as I’m processing his words.

  He doesn’t kiss me long before working open-mouthed kisses down my neck.

  Rubbing against his hard cock, my panties are soaked. As I circle them on the hard bulge in his silky boxers, he gently nudges me up as it lengthens with my encouragement.

  His hands have traveled back to my ass and are urging me to run my clit along the length of his enthusiastic cock.

  Glancing down, I notice that the tip reaches his bellybutton. His handsome cock has come out to play, with more of it exposed than covered.

  Holy shit. How is this thing going to fit inside of me?

  I’m a little worried, but I’m so wet, a miracle might just happen today.

  If there’s a will, there’s a way, right?

  With my hands on his shoulders, it’s easy to rub along his length, the friction along my panties driving me even madder with desire.

  As my breasts dangle in his face, his mouth latches on a nipple, catching me entirely off guard. His firm sucking seems to tie directly to my pussy, and I throb with each suckling sensation.

  A frustrated moan escapes as I lean down and watch Brady sucking on my tits. Sensing my stare, his eyes meet mine. Releasing me, he leans back a bit to look down.

  With one hand on my ass, he rocks against me gently, his eyes refusing to leave mine as his other hand travels down between us and pulls my underwear to the side.

  My gaze follows his to watch as his thumb travels down to part my pussy lips gently and circle my clit.

  I shudder again at his perfect touch.

  Watching his hard cock slide underneath me while he spreads my lips and rubs my clit is almost more than I can take.

  “Please, Brady,” I say, begging impatiently for him to take me.

  My words are more a moan as my head drops back.

  I’m not sure exactly what I’m asking for, but he doesn’t hesitate.

  I feel a subtle shift of his hips beneath me. Pulling back, his cock is now lined up perfectly to enter me.

  I hesitate, a bit taken aback, my heart fluttering in my chest. It’s now or never, and I’m fucking banking on now. Looking at him, I don’t know how he’s controlling himself, because I know I certainly can’t.

  I immediately begin pressing him inside me, feeling his huge cock start inside of me.

  The thick head of Brady’s cock catches against my entrance. He’s so big, and for a moment, I hesitate.

  Tilting my head to look at Brady, I see a level of raw passion matching my own, and I manage to relax my muscles to accept him.

  Well, part of him.

  Focusing and slowly pushing down, I feel the pressure as the first few inches penetrate me. My pussy is downright slick from how turned on I am. It helps ease him into me as I slowly lift up and down, enjoying the initial penetration.

  Gasping in pleasure at the wonderful sensation of my little hole being stretched, I pick up speed.

  “You’re so tight, baby. You feel so good.”

  Brady’s sincere encouragement has me pushing down on him firmly.

  His thumb circling my clit disappears, as he takes both his hands and puts them on my hips while arching into me.

  “Ahhh…” I exclaim in ecstasy.

  The air is practically knocked out of me as he bottoms out.

  He stills under me as we pant together, with him lodged completely and firmly inside me.

  I can barely believe what’s happening right now. It’s all so surreal that I feel like I might even be dreaming right now.

  But if I am, I never want to wake up. All of our little moments chasing one another so subtly are finally on display right here, right now.

  Picking up the pace, I start fucking him in strong, steady strokes that have me moaning loudly in pleasure.

  Leaning forward a bit more, I ride him quicker as he pinches my nipples and tugs one into his mouth.

  He’s bucking under me frantically as my climax hits.

  Crying out in pleasure, I slow as h
e slams into me fast and hard. My sudden, strong orgasm paralyses me with intense jolts of incredible sensations I’ve never had before.

  Pulling me down onto him tight, he traps me against him as I feel his thick rod twitch his release inside me. My little pussy can’t even handle his load, and in my hyper-sensitive state, I can feel globs of cum oozing from my tiny hole while he pulls himself out.

  “My God, Izzie. That was incredible,” Brady says between deep breaths, his words bringing me crashing back to reality.

  “I’ll say,” I reply playfully, trying to play off the fact that I’ve literally never done this before.

  I lie against Brady, convincing myself that this is all real and that it actually all happened.

  As I process it all, I know one thing for sure.

  It’s our secret. His contract guarantees that.

  Chapter 23

  Brady

  I’ve never had a more satisfying breakfast. I’m still replaying the highlights in my head when I feel a buzzing sensation in the back of my pants.

  Excited, I whip my cell out of my pocket. It could be Izzie, sending me a sexy photo of her Lucky Charms. God, I hope so.

  When the name Coach McGoy appears on my screen, however, I can feel myself wilting—physically and emotionally.

  If anything could make me lose my breakfast, it’s a text from my coach. I brace myself and click on the alert to open the message.

  All he’s written is, “Call me. Now.”

  No smiley face. No explanation.

  I have a feeling this call will ruin my appetite for lunch, as well.

  An angry voice is the last thing I want to hear right now, but I gird my loins and push the button anyway.

  Coach picks up on the first ring. “McGoy here.”

  “This is Brady. You rang?” I slap on a fake smile and try my best to sound chipper.

  I have no idea why he’s calling me so early, but if I pretend everything is normal, maybe he will, too.

  “Brady. Where are you right now?”

  He sounds like he woke up on the wrong side of the bed—the cold, empty side without a hot lady to warm him. I feel bad for him but not enough to tell him where I am or—more importantly—where I’ve been.

  “Oh, I’m out and about. Why?”

  “I’ll tell you when you’re in my office. How soon can you get here?”