“That’s not how you whisk eggs. You’re just stirring them.”

I look down at the three still intact eggs, their yolks barely breaking. “No, look they’re starting to break apart.” I point into the bowl.

“At that pace, we’re going to be eating cake at midnight. I’ll show you how it’s done.” From behind, Hayden traps my body against the counter, his arms circling around me. Taking my hand in his along with the fork, he whisks the eggs sharply in the bowl, beating the poor things to death. Lips next to my ear, he says, “See, like this. Like you’re whipping them.”

Whipping.

Why does that word make me want to do naughty things? Hell, watching his forearm whisk the eggs makes me want to do naughty things. Look at how his wrist rotates incredibly fast, never letting up. And his fingers, long and strong, telling the fork exactly what to do, beating the eggs into submission.

Submission.

Whipping.

Forearms.

Wrists.

Oh Christ, I need some water.

Pregnancy hormones are in overdrive tonight. It doesn’t help that Hayden is wandering around his apartment without socks on. Yes, he’s barefoot in jeans and a white T-shirt, looking casually handsome, his large feet padding across the floor.

They’re feet, uncovered man feet, and from the mere sight of them I can feel a dull throb start in the base of my stomach.

We are talking overactive hormones here. Never in my life have I lusted over feet, but by golly do I want to play with his.

Don’t worry. I’m quite aware something is wrong with me.

“Adalyn, the milk.”

“Huh?” I look up, my hand whisking in the air, carrying the motion on after Hayden has already stepped away and started mixing all the ingredients together.

“The milk, hand me the milk.”

“Oh yeah, the milk. Gotcha.” I give his side a playful punch that makes him chuckle, his brow drawn close together, confusion of my actions written all over his face. Don’t worry, buddy, I’m just as confused as you are.

Milk already measured out, I give him the glass Pyrex cup and lean against the counter, my hip hitting the hard edge. Hayden’s talking, but his words aren’t registering. Instead, my mind is focused on the way his biceps swell with each pass of the mixing spoon in the bowl. Up and down, up and down, testing the elasticity of the cotton shirt he’s wearing. Is it going to snap? It looks like it.

Come on.

Snap.

Snap, you little cotton—

“Hey, where are you right now?” Hayden tilts my chin up, forcing my eyes away from his cannon of an arm.

“Sorry, just thinking about things.” Not things I plan on sharing. Nodding toward the mix, I say, “What does it taste like?” When Hayden said he wanted to bake a cake with me, I inwardly softened, the wall around my heart being broken down one brick at a time.

“Want to taste it?”

I nod vigorously. I reach for the bowl, but he swats my hand away only to stick his finger in the bowl and offer me a taste.

Holding his finger in front of me, he waits for me to taste the chocolate flavor about to drip off the end. Not feeling shy about licking his finger, I lean forward and stick my tongue out, flicking up the dripping of batter about to fall. Keeping my gaze trained on his, I notice how his pupils grow, his eyes narrow, and then I open my mouth and slip his finger inside. Looking up at him, I allow my lips to encircle his finger while my tongue works its way around his finger, lapping up the chocolate.

His sharp stare stays on me when I ever so slowly bring my teeth down on his finger, lightly dragging them to the tip along with my lips. When my mouth pops off, I lick around my lips and smile at him.

For a moment, we stand there, staring at each other, our eyes locked, our bodies breathing together in time, heavy and deep, our chests rising and falling.

“Tell me no.” He lets go of the bowl and takes a step toward me.

Eyes wide, delicious chocolate on my tongue, my body humming for one touch, one taste, my lips stay sealed.

Taking another step forward, closing me in against the counter, he repeats himself, gripping my cheek. “Tell me no.”

I know I should. I set ground rules. I told him we were over. I said we were just going to be friends, but for the life of me, I can’t get myself to tell him no.

I can’t utter the words. Instead, my hand grips one of the belt loops of his pants and pulls him in the last inch. Growling like a caveman, he bends at the waist and effortlessly scoops me into his arms only to usher me past the kitchen, living room, and down a hallway. With a push of his foot, he opens the door to his bedroom. The ten-foot ceilings give the room a heavenly feel along with the all-white bedding and giant California king.

Just when I think he’s about to toss me in the bed, he gives it a second thought and gently sets me down, going down to his knees in front of me. Reaching behind him, he grips the back of his shirt and pulls it forward over his head revealing his expertly chiseled body.

God, how could I forget what he looks like without a shirt? This image should be burned in my mind, on constant replay, like a screensaver on my phone, always there.

Lifting my shirt, he reveals the spandex of my jeans, completely horrifying me. I scoot away, pushing my shirt down. God, it’s like he just revealed my Spanx without any warning.

“Don’t scoot away from me.” He pulls on my legs, bringing me closer to him.

“Don’t look at my pregnancy wear. Close your eyes. You should never see elastic where there should be zippers and buttons.”

Chuckling, he doesn’t listen to me. No, he lifts my shirt and pulls down on the elastic of my very stretchy jeans, revealing my little baby bump. Sitting back on his heels, his hand washes over his face, the look of sincere wonder reflected in his beautiful eyes.

Sitting up, he leans on his elbows, his arms straddling either side of me, and he brings his lips gently to my stomach where he kisses my bump. Peering at me, tears filling his eyes, he conveys with his awe-inspired look how happy he is.

Unable to control my emotions, my eyes dampen as well, watching him kiss me from the top of my belly to the bottom, his fingers lightly caressing the sides.

Even though it’s an intimate moment, the farther south he kisses, the more my body heats, the more I wiggle beneath him, looking for more, needing more.

Continuing his journey south, he brings the rest of my jeans down with him until they’re pulled off and tossed to the floor. Hands trailing back up my thighs, they stop when they reach my panties.

Eyes dark and lustful, he gives me a dangerous look. “Lace thong. Fuck, Adalyn.”

Instead of ripping it off right away, he fingers the delicate lace, testing the waistband and the edges that encase the apex between my thighs. Fingers dancing dangerously close to where I so desperately want him, my head falls to the mattress and my back arches off the bed.

I moan loud and hard when his fingers trace over my slit. I’m so wet, more wet than I ever imagine being.

“Take my thong off, please,” I beg. He does and the minute the fabric is off me, I spread my legs and place my calves over his shoulders, pulling him in close.

When I think he’s going to laugh, he doesn’t. His stare turns more dark, more serious, more intense.

Turning his head to the side, his lips graze my thigh, nipping and licking, his hands sliding under my ass, cupping each cheek in earnest, bringing my center closer to his mouth. Hovering above me, he flicks his tongue, barely passing over my wet center, a whisper of a touch.

Writhing under him, I push myself forward, hunkering my legs down so he has no place to go.

“Please,” I beg. God, I’m so turned on, so in need of release. Of him.

Hands still cupping my ass, he presses his mouth against my pussy and with one smooth stroke, moves his tongue up the valley between my legs, hitting my clit in the process.

“Yes,” I moan, my legs hooking Hayden in even closer.

Long languid strokes, his tongue plays with my arousal, keeping the same pace, the same pressure. It’s mind-blowing, intoxicating.

“More,” I demand, feeling how easily his tongue slides against me, how incredibly aroused I am.

Muttering against me, the vibrations of his voice making my stomach drop, he says, “Tastes so good. So fucking good.”

A spark of my undoing shoots up my spine, his tongue working up and down my clit, licking, kissing, sucking. Pulling it between his lips, humming—

“Oh God,” I scream, unable to hold back. I’m right there, my heart hammering in my chest, my clit pounding against his tongue, my legs starting to go numb as my stomach bottoms out on me, a ripple of pleasure tearing through me. Flicking his tongue over my clit, I convulse on him, my body jerking every which way, his grip holding me down, keeping his face firmly planted between my legs until I don’t think I can take any more.

“Please, oh God, I can’t . . .”

Releasing his mouth, he flips me over on the bed, pulls me up on my knees and brings my back to his chest, his rock hard erection pressing against me, his jeans an unwanted barrier.

“Shirt and bra off. Now.”

Doing as I’m told, I race to get naked as I hear him disrobe himself from behind.

I toss my clothes to the side and kneel on his bed, waiting for his next move. I don’t have to wait for long when his hands reach around me, his warm, strong body flush against mine. Bending his head forward, his cheek against mine, he looks down my front, groaning in my ear.

“These fucking tits. Shit Adalyn, they’re so goddamn big.”

That’s the honest truth. I’m all tits and belly in my pregnancy. It’s been very difficult to find things to wear.

As he cups them, the weight heavy in his hands, I lean my head back and moan softly, loving his touch.

“Goddamn, you feel good.” His thumbs pass over my nipples and I cry out in pleasure. “You like that, baby?”

“Yes.” The words fall out of my mouth in a long, drawn-out syllable.

Taking my cue, he passes his thumbs over my nipples again, his hands still cupping my breasts, squeezing and teasing.

My breasts have always been sensitive, but now with all these hormones running rampant in my body, sensitive isn’t the right word to describe how they feel.

So heavy, so delicate, so taken over by the aching need to be played with.

Using his index finger and thumb, he rolls both of my nipples at the same time between his fingers.

“Oh my God!” I shout, bucking my ass into his cock, falling forward, my hands propping my upper half on the mattress. Head falling forward, my hair a privacy curtain from the intense expression I’m wearing on my face. I grind my ass into his cock, my pussy clenching with every grind, with every pinch of his fingers he continues to play on my breasts.

“I’m going to come,” I announce, surprising myself as another orgasm rips through me.

Hayden stills behind me as I moan in front of him, my head dropping to the mattress.

“Baby,” he whispers, his hand now soothing up and down my spine.

And just like that, that little touch, my body hums and need once again overtakes me. Cheek pressed against the cool white comforter, I rock my hips against him, begging him to take me one more time.

“Make me come again,” I whisper.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Hayden mutters before gripping his length and placing it at my entrance. Stroking my hips, his hand covering my ass, squeezing, he thrusts inside me, filling me whole with one stroke. Stilling above me, I can feel the tension rolling off him. “Fuck. So tight, baby.”

“So full,” I say, moving my hips backward, savoring the way he feels inside me. “I need you to move, Hayden. Please fuck me.”

Not saying a word, he grips my hips tightly and pulls out only to forcefully thrust back inside me, his balls slapping against my skin, the sound so erotic. Pulling out again, he repeats the process, refusing to speed up, keeping consistent with each thrust. His grip growing tighter and tighter until he thrusts so deep, he stills, hitting me where I need it the most.

Deep inside me, I spasm around him and grind my hips, swiveling, my impending orgasm starting to blacken the world around me.

“Fuck, fuck,” he groans, picking up his pace now, his strokes fast and hard, burying my face in the mattress, muffling the sounds of his orgasm, but I feel when it happens, when he comes inside me, his white-hot arousal filling me, sending me over the precipice.

Like a feral cat, I scream out his name, my hands ripping the comforter, my pussy contracting relentlessly around his arousal, pulling everything from him, every last drop until we both collapse to the bed, our bodies sweaty and spent.

After a few minutes, once our breathing evens out, Hayden scoots me to the top of the bed and pulls me under the covers with his body wrapped around mine, his hand protectively covering my belly, and his face buried against my neck.

He doesn’t have to say anything. I know how happy he is, because in this moment, this quiet moment, I feel that mile-long smile of his against my skin. And because of that, I can’t help but smile myself.

“Are you okay?”

“Hmm . . .”

A nose nuzzles my neck, a strong body wrapped around me.

“How are you feeling? I can’t believe I lost control and fucked you so hard. I hope the baby is okay.”

“The baby is fine,” I sigh, kissing the arm encompassing my shoulder.

“I’m sorry. I’ve wanted that so badly. Ever since that morning, ever since I said those words, I’ve wanted a repeat, and I lost my mind. But, God, Addie, I can’t tell you how much this means to me. How much it means that you chose me over him.”

“Hmm?” In my sleepy haze, I swear Hayden just called me, Addie. He never calls me Addie.

“And this baby, I’m going to love it with everything in me, just like I love you.”

Strong arms turn me over in bed and I come face to face with Logan, a curve in his lip and sexy, ruffled hair.

“What the hell,” I scream, scooting out of his grasp as I’m torn from a dream.

Eyes adjusting to the dark room and the worried man next to me, Hayden, tries to hold on to me as I back away.

“Adalyn, is everything okay?”

Scooting far away, I nearly tumble out of bed before Hayden catches me, moving quickly on the bed.

“What’s going on?” He’s not angry, just incredibly concerned.

Hayden, yes that’s Hayden. I had sex with Hayden, not Logan.

I had sex . . .

Oh God. I had sex with Hayden, when Logan kissed me yesterday and told me he loved me. And that dream, what was that about?

It felt so real, being in Logan’s arm, his lips grazing my skin, his voice rumbling over my body, igniting a fire deep within me. But it wasn’t Logan. It was Hayden, right?

“Baby, you’re scaring me, is everything okay?”

I shake my head, unable to look Hayden in the eyes. Scrambling out of his grasp, I search for my clothes. This was a mistake, a huge mistake. I should have never had sex with Hayden, especially when I’m so unsure of anything.

Logan loves me.

Hayden wants me. Hayden needs me.

I’m having Hayden’s baby.

I don’t want to lose Logan.

I don’t know what to do.

Bra is the first thing I find, so I strap that on followed by my pants and shirt, forgetting my lace thong entirely. Not even looking back, I go to the entryway where I slip on my shoes and snag my purse from the console table. Before I can open the door, a strong hand halts the door in place. From the corner of my eye, Hayden’s body appears, covered in athletic shorts and that’s it. His chest is heaving. I can only imagine the death glare he must be giving me.

“What the hell is going on?”

“I need to go home,” I say, keeping my eyes fixed on the door in front of me, willing it to open on its own.

“Why the fuck do you need to go home?” Angry Hayden, just like the day at the cottage when I broke things off. It’s the same tone in his voice, the same furious vibe pulsing off him.

“Logan will wonder where I am.” The words pop out of my mouth before I can stop them. I go to correct myself, but nothing comes to mind. So instead the mention of Logan’s name hangs in the air between us, like an impossibly large pink elephant.

“Do you care if he knows you’re here, with me?”

I play with the strap of my purse, unable to answer Hayden’s question.

“Look at me, Adalyn.” When I don’t turn around, he carefully moves me so I’m against the door, forced to look him in the eyes—his distraught and sad eyes. “Do you have feelings for Logan?”

Do I have feelings for Logan? Good question. He’s my friend, a man I once saw myself having a future with. I could see us fitting perfectly into each other’s lives. And then . . .

That was a mistake.

Those four words knocked me on my ass, tainted my view of him.

But after last night, I don’t even know anymore. But I just thought the same words about Hayden, and I’d wanted him with every fiber of my being.

“I see,” Hayden says, taking my silence as an answer.

Pushing off the door, he runs both his hands through his hair, his muscles straining, his features a picture of pain.

“Fuck, I don’t want to have to fight for you, Adalyn. I thought . . .” He pauses and shakes his head. “I thought we had something.” Going to his couch, he sits down and bows his head forward, both hands gripping the back of his neck, a man completely and utterly hurting. Suffering.

Go to him, I tell myself. Hold him, reassure him. Tell him it’s going to be okay. But every time I get the courage to take a step forward, Logan’s pleading and loving eyes flash in front of me.

I’m stone, unable to move. And with each passing second I don’t move, I’m slicing the man before me right in half.

“Fuck,” he mutters and stands from the couch. Shaking his head, he grabs the keys from the console table and opens the door. Somberly, he says, “I’ll drive you home.”

The drive is deathly silent and what should be a five-minute drive feels like an hour of pure torture, my mind racing a mile a minute trying to think of something to say, some kind of reassurance to end the pain Hayden is so visibly going through.

When we reach my apartment, Hayden parks the car and looks out the window, his hand gripping his chin, contemplating something. Unsure of what to say, I reach for the door handle when Hayden grips my arm.

Still staring out the window, he sighs and takes a second before he brings his focus to me.

Deflated and dejected, he removes his hand from me and says, “Before you go up to your apartment, I need you to know something.” His throat tight, he clears it and continues, his voice strained. “The day I met you at Racer’s, I knew the universe I was living in was altered by your presence. I knew at that moment I would never be the same. My instinct never fails me. I was right. Over a little Northeast summer, I grew to know this incredibly funny, authentic, and beautiful woman. I learned about your family, your younger years, your fears, and your loves. With each story you told, each passing glance you gave me, every part of your body you let me own, I fell deeper and deeper in love with you.” My breath catches in my throat. “And then you told me you were pregnant. Yeah, I was shocked at first, but after the shock wore off, it was solidified. The woman I met over a stack of unpaid bills was the woman I would never be able to let go.” Shaking his head, his shoulders slump as he looks past me, up at the apartment. “And yet, here I am, having no choice but to let you go.”

Passing his hand over his mouth, he brings my hand to his lips and presses a gentles kiss across my knuckles.

“I love you, Adalyn. You are my dream girl, the mother of my child, and the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, but I can’t compete with another man if you love him. I won’t. I don’t want to ask you to choose. But I need to know if . . . I need to know if you’ll love me. If not, I’ll back off. Still be there for you and the baby, but I won’t . . . I won’t fight.”

His words rip through me, tears falling from my eyes.

“Tomorrow is my home game you have tickets for. After the game, the families of players greet us when we come off the ice after the game in the players’ hallway. I’ve put your name on the list. If you come tomorrow, if I see you waiting in that hallway, I’ll know you’re mine forever. But don’t show up if you have any question about wanting to be with me, because the next time we’re together, I want you wholeheartedly. I want all of you. Do you understand?”

I nod, tears streaking down my cheeks.

“This is it, baby.” He wipes a tear from my eye. “No more fucking around. You’re either with me or you’re not. And if you’re not, I will be civil when it comes to our baby, but don’t expect me to be nice to him.”

Pulling away, he stares out the window, ending our conversation.

Such all-consuming sadness blankets me as I squeak out his name, “Hayden.”

He shakes his head. “You either show up tomorrow, or you don’t. That’s it, Adalyn.”

With that, he unlocks the door, the click of the locks echoing in the car, sending a clear-cut sign to me there is no negotiating. I either want him or I don’t.

And what’s scary is I’m almost positive I want him, but the words fail to leave my lips.