West

One Year and Nine Months Later

I step outside the airport and climb into the back seat of the SUV, giving the driver the address to my building. My travel schedule has been ugly the past month. Boston made the playoffs. So, for the first round, I was flying back and forth to San Jose. They won that series, and now, they’re playing Ottawa.

This is my third season commentating, and Boston made the playoffs all three years. They never went past the second round, but this year, they’re going to win the Stanley Cup. The team is so solid. The draft pick they scored is proving to be an outstanding forward, and the trades they made have cut their only weakness, packing the lineup with some heavy talent.

My boys were so fucking smooth out there on the ice tonight.

One more win, and they’re on to round three. I hope their opponents won’t be far from the East Coast. A shorter flight means more time I can spend at home.

I pull out my phone, hit Piper’s number, and hold it to my ear. “Baby,” I say when she answers.

“Viktor is dead to me,” she snaps. “He literally almost gave me a heart attack tonight. That spin move he made near the goalie when the two defensemen rushed at him toward the glass, and he slipped around and barreled through the zone? And then that hit? Did you see that hit? West, I can’t take it. I was on the edge of the couch, and I don’t think I breathed the entire game.”

“I need you to breathe for me.”

I’m not asking. I’m telling. And I’m not playing around even though I love that she’s so into hockey now. The last thing my girl needs is stress over a game. It’s my job to handle all that and to make her life as stress-free as possible.

“I’m sucking in plenty of air now; don’t worry.”

“Maybe I should take all the TVs out of our condo until the playoffs are over.”

“You do that, and you can say good-bye to my vagina until the playoffs are over.”

“We’ll keep the TVs.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that.” Her voice softens. “Where are you?”

Our place isn’t far from Logan International Airport, and fortunately, at this hour, there isn’t any traffic. That’s the only good thing about traveling home this late after the games.

“Not far,” I tell her.

When I first went on the road, we made a deal that I’d call whenever I landed, no matter what time it was.

“I hoped you’d be asleep by now, and you wouldn’t answer.”

“You know it’s hard for me to sleep when you’re not here.”

She’s been saying that for years, and every time, it fills me with guilt. Guilt for leaving so often, guilt for keeping her awake. Especially now. But, whenever I bring up the subject of retirement, even if it wouldn’t be happening for quite a few years, she won’t discuss it. She loves my job as much as I do, which is a relief.

I watch our building come into view, and the driver pulls up alongside the curb.

“You need your sleep, Piper.”

“Just hurry home. I’ll be asleep the second your arms are around me.”

“See you soon,” I say, opening my own door and grabbing the suitcase the driver hands to me.

I wave to the doorman on my way through the lobby as he sits behind the desk. “Did you catch the game, Ralph?”

“Jesus,” he groans. “I almost forgot to bring Mrs. Salamander her dry cleaning and Mr. Rolland his Chinese takeout because I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen. The team is looking so sharp.”

“As long as we stay healthy, I think we’ve got this round.” I step inside the elevator.

“Hope so. I’ve got a hundie riding on it.” He smiles as he stands from the desk, leaning into the edge like he wants to tell me a secret. “Don’t worry; I’ve been checking in with Mrs. Holden while you’ve been gone—real inconspicuously, like you told me to. The Mrs. is doing just fine.”

I hold up my hand in thanks, and then I press the PH button and insert my key, which is the only way the elevator will open on my floor. “You’re a good man, Ralph.”

I watch the numbers light up as I climb each level, wondering if she’s going to be in bed or on the couch, what she’s wearing, if she’ll smell like she just got out of the shower or like that vanilla-scented lotion she’s been putting on lately.

When the door slides open, I see Piper on the couch—her legs stretched out, her feet on the ottoman, a blanket wrapped over her, and a pillow on each side, one of which she’s cuddling. I leave my suitcase near the entrance and move over to her.

“Don’t get up,” I say when she tries pushing herself out of the nest she built. I shove the ottoman out of the way and get on the floor, setting her feet in my lap so that I can rub them.

“Oh my God,” she moans, her head falling back into the cushion. “Whatever you do, don’t stop.”

I run my thumb up and down her arch, using my other hand to knead each of her toes.

“You’re going to put me to sleep.”

“That’s my hope.”

“But I’m on the couch. I need to be in bed to do that.”

“I’ll carry you there, Piper.”

“Let’s not try that. For one, if you wake me up after I’ve already been asleep, I’ll turn into a bear, and I’ll probably try and eat you. Not the sexy kind of eat. I mean, I will literally eat you. Meat is no longer safe in this condo. And, two, you’ll pull your back out. Let’s be honest here; I’m the size of a moose. I refuse to injure my husband because he’s trying to make me feel like I’m the weight of a squirrel.”

I set her feet on the floor, and I’m immediately met with a sad sigh. “I’m not done rubbing them. I just need to taste your lips.” I kneel between her legs, grab the sides of her face, and bring her mouth toward mine. “Mmm. You taste so good.”

“It’s chocolate. I had a cupcake.”

I suck the end of her tongue. “It’s not the cupcake I taste. It’s you.”

I take the blanket off her, so I can see what she has on underneath. A tank top, no bra, and a pair of cotton shorts—just how I like her dressed when she’s home.

I kiss down her chest, making sure my teeth don’t go anywhere near her nipples, and make my way across the roundness of her belly. Eight months pregnant, and she’s as gorgeous now as she was on our wedding day when she wore a simple white dress and walked down the sand to where I waited for her near the water. I cried like hell when I saw her. She was so fucking beautiful. And, in front of our closest friends and family, she became my wife. That was a year and a half ago, and I cried again when the doctor called and confirmed what the fifteen pregnancy tests had already told us.

This woman makes me emotional.

Both of them do.

Emmy’s kicking like our goalie did tonight as I hold the side of Piper’s stomach.

“She hasn’t stopped since you left,” she says. “I think she missed hearing your voice.”

“I’m back now, baby.” I kiss all around where my hand is, up to Piper’s ribs, and down to the waist of her shorts. “I missed you, too.”

“See?” she says, putting her hand on top of mine. “She stopped. It’s you she wants. Not the package of cupcakes I’ve been feeding her all day.”

“What does her mother want?” I hook my fingers into the cotton and begin pulling them down her legs.

“West, this is the worst angle. I can barely even see you, so when you look up, you’re going to have a giant belly button in your face.”

I drop her shorts on the carpet and wrap my arms around her thighs, keeping my mouth high enough so that it isn’t hidden. “I find that belly button hot as hell.” I press my lips on top of it, then an inch lower, and slowly a few inches further down.

“I thought you wanted to taste my lips? Can’t we go back to that moment? When you weren’t about to get suffocated by my belly.”

“I am tasting your lips, Piper.”

I swipe my tongue up her clit and slip a finger inside her. Damn, she’s already so wet, and she tastes so good. And, by the sounds she’s making, I know how close she is to coming.

Since she’s been pregnant, my wife takes only seconds to get off. But I don’t just want to spend seconds between her legs. I want to spend hours, savoring her pussy with my mouth first and then burying my cock inside her.

“And, when I’m done,” I continue, “I’m going to carry you to our bedroom, and I’m going to fuck you.”

“Weeest!” she screams as the orgasm rips through her.

Damn it, I love it when she yells my name.