Page 273 of Playing the Pucking Game
“I know. Our time is now,” I state confidently.
“I’m still scared,” she confesses as she also picks up her fork.
“I’d be worried if you weren’t.”
“Oh my god,” she moans as she tastes our dinner. “This is incredible.”
I beam with pride. “Of course it is. We made it.”
She smiles at me across the table, and my brain fast forwards us a few years with her pregnant and me chasing a little hockey-obsessed terror around.
Suddenly, that kind of image sends a rush of excitement through me instead of fear.
“I’ve got a surprise for you,”I confess after we’ve loaded the dishwasher and tidied up the kitchen.
“Oh?”
Taking her hand, I tug her from the room and lead her in the opposite direction to our bedrooms.
“Linc,” she warns from behind me. “There is no way I can work out after all that pasta.”
Twisting the handle, I throw the door open to my home gym and pull her inside.
“Holy shit, you weren’t joking.” She gawps, her eyes falling on the trainer’s table in the corner.
“That’s not actually your surprise; that one is all for me.”
“Unbelievable.”
“You want me at my best, don’t you, babe?”
She rolls her eyes. “So what is my…” Her words trail off as I spin her by her shoulders and show her what I really brought her in here for.
“O-o-oh.” She laughs, staring at the two brand new reformers I had delivered while we were at work. “Now I get it. I get the job of breaking you on one of those before I have to fix you over there.”
“I thought you’d like it.”
“I am going to have so much fun with this,” she exclaims as she spins in my arms and stares up at me, her eyes glittering with mischief. “And this way, you don’t have to embarrass yourself in a class with other people.”
“I didn’t embarrass myself.” I totally did.
She quirks a brow. “Uh-huh, sure.”
“Did you want to test it out?”
“The reformers? Not a chance. But if that’s your way of asking for a massage, then I guess I could be convinced to get my hands on you.”
I smirk, desire heading straight for my dick.
We are going to have so much fun with that table.
“Go on then,” she says, gently shoving me toward the table. “What do you need?”
“My groin area. It’s feeling all kinds of hard.”
“You’re funny.”
“Trust me, there is nothing funny about having to hide a semi all day and night because you’re everywhere I turn.”
