Chapter 8

EIGHT

I’m pacing back and forth, waiting for the knock on the door while I also try to tell myself to chill the fuck out. But damn, I’m so excited.

She came back.

When I got the call from Lewis, I couldn’t believe my luck. I thought I was going to have to hunt her down after the way I saw her face fall in that security video yesterday.

But she’s here.

I check my watch. How long has it been since Lewis called? Shouldn’t she be up here by now?

The knock on my door has my heart in my throat, and before she can knock a second time, I’m already pulling it open. All my breath whooshes from my lungs as I finally get a good look at her for the first time in a month and a half. God, she’s even more beautiful than I remembered. Her cheeks are pink with a flush, and her silky skin practically glows.

“Hi,” I say, my voice a little deeper than normal because of how much this woman affects me.

“Hi,” she whispers, her gaze tracing mine and her lush lips parted. Fuck, I remember what it felt like to have those lips wrapped around my cock, and I’m suddenly hyperaware that it’s been six weeks since I had sex. With that thought, blood rushes south, and I know I’m dangerously close to popping a boner, which I refuse to do the first time I see her again.

Hopefully, we’ll get to have another round, but I’d prefer to take her out on a real date first. My gaze slides down her frame, loving the way her dark wash denim jeans hug the curves of her hips. Her long hair falls in soft curls over her shoulders and to her breasts that are covered by a loose black top.

She looks as gorgeous as I remember.

“Please come in,” I say, opening the door wider and gesturing inside. She walks in and looks around the space, but her silence is getting to me. “I’m so glad you came back. I was pissed when I found out Lewis made you leave yesterday.”

She turns so she’s facing me, her face puckering in the cutest little frown. “Lewis?”

“The doorman.”

She still looks confused. “You were mad he made me leave?”

I step forward because I can’t stand the distance between us. I’ve been aching to hold this woman for what feels like forever. I’m dying to kiss her, but being near her will have to be enough for now. She has a skittish look on her face—worse than anything I remember from that night at the club—and I’m not about to do anything that will cause her to run from me again. I brush a loose strand of hair away from her cheek because I can’t not touch her. “Yeah. I wanted to see you again. I hated that you left without giving me your full name or your number. I tried to find you, but you’re a hard woman to track down.”

“You did?” she asks, looking completely surprised, and once again I’m taken aback by how much gratitude I feel now that she’s here. She’s the breath of fresh air I’ve been aching for. Most of the women in my past would’ve thrown out some snarky line about how lucky I was they came back, and here’s this goddess who has absolutely no idea what a gift she is.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty? I can get us something to eat while we talk. Or better yet, can I take you out, on a proper date this time?” I ask with a smile tugging at my lips. I’m too happy to hold it back any longer.

Her mouth parts while her dark-blue eyes stare up at me. I can’t quite place the look on her face. “You want to take me on a date?” she asks, her voice a little hoarse.

I step closer, my body thrumming with an excited buzz at being this close to her finally. I love how I feel when she’s near. “I would love to take you out on a date.” I smile. “In fact, I’ve got the perfect place in mind. Are you down?”

She stares at me for another moment, her gaze unsure, and then looks down at her outfit. “Um, am I dressed okay for what you have in mind?”

I use the excuse to peruse her body once more. It takes everything in me not to close the distance, pull her body against mine, and kiss her with nearly six weeks’ worth of pent-up desire. Her lush lips are a temptation I’m all too willing to give in to. I focus on her face, memorizing how her long, dark lashes highlight her deep-blue eyes. Her cheeks look like they have a natural flush, and there’s a smattering of freckles along the bridge of her nose.

All minor details I missed during our night together because of the lack of lighting, but now I’ll picture whenever I think of her.

Which, if the last several weeks are anything to go by, will be often.

“You’re perfect,” I say, meaning every word.

I don’t usually have to work to impress women, but it’s clear by her narrowed eyes and puckered lips she thinks I’m full of shit. Somehow that only endears her to me more.

“Shall we?” I ask.

She nibbles on her lip and then nods.

“Are you okay if I drive us?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” she replies, but there’s a slight wobble in her voice, almost like she’s nervous or distracted. If anyone should be nervous here, it’s me. This woman is clearly unimpressed by my typical swagger, which means I need to step up my game so she doesn’t bail on me like she did before.

I take her to Alberto’s, my favorite pizza joint. It’s just after the lunch rush, so I should be in the clear, but I put on a baseball cap I pull low, hoping it’ll help me stay incognito until I can tell her the truth about me. I know I should do it soon, but a bigger part of me wants to wait. If I wasn’t in the middle of my season, I’d definitely wait, but there’s no way I can explain how frequently I go out of town without her getting suspicious. And the last thing I want is for her to think there’s another woman.

Because there’s not.

And if I have my way after this date, there won’t be anyone else until she’s done with me.

She’s quiet during the short drive and lets me take the lead in ordering our pizza before finding us a table tucked in the back. There are only a few patrons here, but I’d still rather not risk it.

She stares down at her hands in her lap, and my gut clenches at the idea that she’s not comfortable with me.

“You okay?”

She looks up, her eyes wide and darting between mine. She opens her mouth and then snaps it shut. Her attention drops back to her hands, and my brows furrow in concern.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” she murmurs.

I lean forward, moving my hand across the table, palm up, hoping she’ll take it. Hoping she’ll use me as a lifeline and realize I want her with a desperation that’s completely out of character for me. I’ve never wanted a woman this way—never been so consumed I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

“I’m really glad you came back.”

Her gaze shoots up to mine, but she nibbles her lip and doesn’t say a word.

“Like I said, I tried to find you,” I say, willing to put it all on the line if it will get her to smile at me the way she did the night we were together. I don’t know what’s got her so uncomfortable, but I’m willing to work to ease her concerns the best I can.“Don’t ever Google ‘Lexi-Los Angeles’ because you’ll get all kinds of crazy results, and not a single one was the one I was looking for.”

She stares into my eyes, and a feeling passes between us—one I can’t name that makes me feel both soothed and yet on the edge of my seat, unsure of what’s coming.

“I have to tell you something,” she whispers.

“Okay,” I say, sure that nothing she could say would deter me from pursuing this—unless she’s married, but considering she nearly freaked out the night we were together because she was worried I wasn’t single, I doubt that’s the case.

She closes her eyes, and her throat bobs as she swallows and then opens them, the dark blues swirling with fear and worry that makes my heart ache for her.

“I’m pregnant.”

Everything freezes.

I gape at her, not sure I heard her correctly. “W-what?”

“I’m pregnant,” she whispers.

I sit back, my heart dropping to my stomach as I stare at her in complete shock. And then the shock morphs to burning disappointment tainted with anger. She was supposed to be different. She wasn’t supposed to be a jersey chaser trying to nab herself a baby daddy and a guaranteed eighteen years of checks. All the excitement I felt at seeing her disappears in a haze of red as anger slithers through the disappointment like a quick-acting poison in my veins.

My jaw tics as I stare at her, my eyes narrowed. I know this game. She’s not the first to try to play it on me, and I won’t be manipulated.

But I wish she still didn’t make me feel things for her so I could focus on my anger instead of oscillating between that and the crushing disappointment. Instead, I focus on getting to the root of the issue.

“When did you find out?” I spit out. I have to know. Did she know I was a famous football player that night, or did she find out after? If she knew then, she’s one hell of an actress.

And that only pisses me off more because I never saw it coming. She seemed so real, so down to earth, so genuine.

Fuck, this hurts.

She flinches and drops her gaze. “It was confirmed by my doctor yesterday. I tried to find you right away after my appointment.”

I shake my head. “I mean, when did you find out about me?”

Her brows furrow, and I refuse to let myself find it cute. “You? W-what do you mean?”

“Cut the bull, Lexi. When did you find out I was famous? Did you know I played for the Wolves that night? Or did you find out after? I deserve to know the truth if you’re carrying my kid. If it’s even mine,” I spit out.

She blinks at me, and then a mask falls over her face, and she shakes her head like she doesn’t recognize me at all. I hate the sheen of tears filling her eyes, and disgust—at myself—fills my gut.

She swallows once, then twice like she’s trying to find the strength to speak but can’t. And it’s the way she’s trying so hard to hold herself together while her body cracks right before me that has my anger dissolving as quickly as it came.

This isn’t right.

She’s not responding the way I’ve seen others react. She’s certainly not responding anything like my ex when we broke up and I called her out on her bullshit—on the way she used me and manipulated me for months.

Lexi isn’t acting like that at all. I’m questioning if this is an act, or if I’ve once again let my past relationships get in my way.

Did she really not know?

She drops her gaze to the floor and practically whispers, “This was a mistake.”

Then she gets out of her chair and walks out.