Delay of Game (36 page)

I was still working on formulating another argument when she stretched her free hand away from my body, reaching all the way past me, and turned the lock on the doorknob. On the return trip, she deftly undid the buttons of my jacket with that same hand and then tugged it down over my shoulders.

“Fuck, babe.”

“That’s the plan,” she said wryly. She was already undoing the knot of my tie while trying to free her other hand from my grip.

Never mind the thought of me hurting her; I had to slow her down or she’d hurt herself. Hell, she might even hurt me. She whipped my tie free and let it follow my jacket to the floor, and I spun around. As soon as I faced her, she was stretching up to kiss me. I let her do that because it was easier than trying to convince her to do slow down for a minute, and I put both hands at her waist so I could gently guide her backward. Her tongue swept inside my mouth to tangle with mine. Everything in my body was screaming to let her have her way with me; everything in my head knew that was the worst idea I could have.

When we reached the bed, I sat down on the end and carefully drew her between my legs. She grabbed at my shirt, pulling it free from my pants and fumbling with the buttons.

“Wait,” I said. I put my hands over hers again.

Her blue eyes, dark with need, flickered up to meet mine, filled with impatience and hunger, and something a little softer. Something more vulnerable and beautiful and, frankly, more shocking. Vulnerability had never been something I’d associated with Sara before.

It made me want to take her face between my hands and kiss the vulnerability right out of her, but at the same time, I wanted to thank any god that would listen that she was finally letting me past her barriers. Instead of doing either of those things, I lowered her hands to her sides, letting my fingertips skim the denim covering her hips. “Let me do all the work. Save your energy for when I make you come.”

I couldn’t believe I was going along with this, but she wasn’t going to give in without a fight.

Even though she’d surely spent the entire day at home, she was wearing a sparkly top—something I’d expect her to wear to a club, not the kind of clothes you laze around the house in. Her jeans didn’t appear to be old, comfortable, lounging jeans, either. They were skin tight and sexy as hell. Come to think of it, I didn’t think I’d ever seen her in anything grungy or less than impeccable. Unreal.

I slipped my hands beneath the band at her waist and slid the shirt up. My fingers grazed the sides of her breasts as I moved past them, not entirely unintentionally. She shivered and inched closer to me.

When I got the shirt free, I dropped it and cupped her cheek with one hand until she met my gaze. “Keep your eyes on me.”

Sara sucked in a soft, gasping sort of breath and nodded.

I took my time undressing her, exploring every new inch of skin I uncovered with my palms. With my fingers. With my lips and teeth and tongue.

In no time, her skin was flushed, her breaths shallow, her legs trembling. “Cam?” Her fingers dug into my shoulders, and she swayed.

I shouldn’t have left her standing like that for so long. “Sorry.” I put my hands on her hips and lay her on her back on the bed, watching her eyes intensely for any sign of pain. There was nothing but need reflected back in her gaze. I lay beside her, propped up on an elbow with my other hand tracing patterns over her skin as though she had tattoos covering her body. There was nothing permanent on her, though. Her skin was flawless. Smooth as her satin nighties. Just tanned enough to appear healthy and vibrant—even her breasts.

I slid down the bed and tugged her panties over her legs. I took my time going about fulfilling my earlier promise, licking and sucking her until she came, hard. Maybe too hard. Her legs and stomach were clenched, and then they shook uncontrollably while she let out soft moans.

Fuck
. That kind of muscle contraction had to hurt.

I should have stuck to my guns. I should never have gone along with her plan. But it was too late now for regrets.

DRAGGING CAM INTO
bed with me like that last night probably hadn’t been my brightest idea ever, because he’d been right. My ribs ached more today than they had in a little while. But it was a good fucking ache.

After he’d given me the most fantastic oral experience of my life, I’d tried to convince him I was okay enough to finish the deed properly. He hadn’t fallen for my bravado, though, and it was probably for the best. I might be in a world of hurt today if I’d had my way. For once, I was okay with letting him be right.

As it was, today was likely going to be painful enough without any added discomfort, particularly since that cramping sensation kept coming and going. Sara, Rachel, and all of the others were going wedding dress shopping, and I was going to stay home with Cam and Daddy…and meet Cam’s mother and sisters. Perfect.

I really wanted a fucking cup of coffee to help me face today, particularly since I hadn’t gotten anywhere near enough sleep in the last couple of nights, but caffeine was off-limits. Both Cam and Daddy reminded me of that when I tried to fix myself a cup.

Daddy even took the mug out of my hands and put it back into the cabinet just before I poured some coffee into it. “You’re not going to do anything that the doctor says you shouldn’t do. Not with my grandchild in there.” Then he fucking winked at me, even though he knew good and well that doing something like that would only piss me off.

I barely had a chance to properly glower at him because the doorbell rang, and all I could do was freak out about the fact that, while I
had
showered and put some clothes on at least, I hadn’t bothered with a bra or brushed my teeth or put on a decent pair of shoes. I was still wearing my well-worn, grungy, fuzzy house shoes.

The spoon in my hand clattered to the counter. “I’m not ready.” For the day. To face his family. For any of it. Not even close to ready. I had to fight the urge to race up the stairs and shut myself in my room and lock the door so no one could come in to bother me.

I really, seriously hated this part of myself—the part that was always running from the shit that I wanted.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Cam said quietly from directly behind me, “I’m not sure I’m ready, either.” He kissed the crown of my head then followed Daddy to answer the door.

That didn’t make me feel any better at all. This was his family, damn it.

I picked up the spoon and used the back of it like a mirror to be sure I didn’t have anything stuck in my teeth and my hair wasn’t sticking out in crazy ways.
Fuck.
I hadn’t put on any makeup yet. I’d hoped I would have a chance after I ate breakfast. Maybe I would have if we hadn’t slept so late today. There was no time to do it now, though, because I could already hear them, feminine titters and squeals combined with Buster’s excited yaps filling the entryway like I would expect if the wedding dress shopping party had descended upon us.

That would have been welcome. I could have handled that, and I wouldn’t care in the least about what shoes I was wearing if they were the ones here. They didn’t care about things like that. They let me just be exactly how I was. I never had to worry about making an impression with them, let alone making the
right
impression.

Right now, I couldn’t help but feel as though the deck was stacked against me before I ever met them. They knew I was pregnant, but did they know it wasn’t Cam’s baby? Was that going to be a bone of contention? Were they willing to keep that a secret from my father?

Talking about those sorts of things probably would have been a much better use of our time last night, now that I thought about it.

Every inch of my body was shaking as Cam and my father came down the hall, leading a group of dark-haired women and a fit, blond-haired man. One of the women was tall, like Cam, but the rest of them were petite. They were all smiling, and I tried to do the same, but before I could fix my head around it those women were all crossing over to me with their arms outstretched like they were going to hug me.

I shot a silent plea for help over to Cam with my eyes, but all he did was say, “Careful of her ribs,” the bastard, and then they were all talking at once, speaking over each other while they wrapped me up in the middle of the group and I tried not to hyperventilate, because, hello, that was way too touchy-feely considering I didn’t even know who was who yet. I silently cursed their mother for giving them all names that started with C since it would only make keeping them straight more difficult for me.

Times like these made me wish I’d had a mother who’d given a shit. Maybe then I could handle this part of being female a little better. Most of the players’ wives and girlfriends—my girls—knew I wasn’t much of a hugger. They didn’t try to get all grabby with me. Not like these women were.

I’d grown up surrounded by Daddy and all of his players and assistant coaches and other
men
, and men didn’t tend to be anywhere near as physically demonstrative as women. Definitely not as much as Cam’s family. How on earth had he come from the same family as all of them? He was always so soft-spoken and easygoing, and they were anything but. Then again, he might be quiet because he was never able to get a word in edge-wise.

“I’m so glad we finally get to meet you!”

“We’ve been waiting for Cam to meet someone.”

“When can we give you a baby shower?”

“Give her a chance to breathe, Cadence. Slow down.”

Yes, I needed them to slow down. They were coming at me from all directions, and I couldn’t get my bearings. Before I knew what was happening, the youngest one had taken my hand and was guiding me into the living room, and they settled me on the couch with my pillows and plopped down all around me, and I was trapped.

I glanced over my shoulder to see if Cam or Daddy, either of them, would come to my rescue. No such luck. The pair of them had taken the blond man into the dining room where they could be away from all of us.

Traitors.

When I faced the women again, my panic must have been evident on my face because Cam’s mom gave me a sympathetic smile.

“Sorry. We can be a little overenthusiastic,” she said.

“Some of us more than others,” one of the older sisters added with a nod toward the youngest, who responded by granting her elder sister a goofy expression.

“It’s all right,” I forced myself to say, and then I worked on making myself mean it. “This just came up a little sooner than I was prepared for.”

The third sister, who looked to be the oldest, probably right around my age, nodded with a wry expression. “We sprang this on you pretty fast, but there’s not much time to waste since you’ve got a baby on the way.”

Fast didn’t even come close to what this felt like. Hell,
everything
was happening too fast. Being pregnant. This relationship with Cam. The whole falling-in-love thing. As soon as I adjusted to one new aspect in my life, four more hit me over the head. I couldn’t find a comfort zone, a place to settle in and breathe for a minute, and that just left me flailing and praying for a soft landing.

“And we’re only here for a few days,” their mother added, “so we don’t want to waste any time. We just want to get to know you.”

“But you can come back to Winnipeg with Cam this summer,” the youngest piped in. “At least for a little while. Then we can spend more time together.”

A trip home with him this summer? Oh yeah. The train just kept picking up speed. It was already moving too fast for me to safely jump off.

A fresh cramp hit my belly, and I closed my eyes against the pain. That gave me a second to try to let everything settle in my mind, to pull my thoughts together. I took a breath and opened my eyes again, fixing my gaze on Mrs. Johnson.

“So, what do you want to know?” I asked.

“Everything!”

“When’s the baby due?”

“Is it going to be a boy or a girl?”

“Can we help name the baby?”

“Are you going to marry Cam?”

“When’s your birthday?”

“What’s your favorite dessert? Because if it isn’t something with chocolate, we can’t even be friends, let alone sisters.”

“If she doesn’t like chocolate it just means more for you, silly. Ugh.”

I wasn’t sure what left me feeling dizzier—all of their questions, or the renewed cramping on top of my rib pain.