Josh and his team were away on a road trip. Averylong road trip—according to my libido. Apparently, no one in the NHL scheduling department cared that I was super-horny.
How considerate ofthem.
Me:I take it you meanme?
Josh:Of course. Who else? So, what are youwearing?
I glanced at my forest-green maternity top, which hugged my body in the right places, and my maternityjeans.
Me:My black lacy bra and matchingpanties.
Hey, that was partly true. Iwaswearingthem.
Josh:Whatelse?
Me:A smile. Should I be wearing anything else? Where areyou?
Josh:Just landed at Calgary airport. Waiting for the plane to arrive at the gate. But never mind that. Let’s get back to what you’rewearing…
Me:Guess this is your way of saying you aren’t sitting on your hotel bed, alone, in nothing but yourbriefs.
Josh:Yep, that would be correct. But you can imagine it if it makes you feelbetter.
I ran my hand over my stomach and leaned back against mycar.
Me:That would make me feelbetter.
That was a complete and utter lie. With that image now in my head, all it did was make me hornier than before…if that was at allpossible.
Me:I miss you. I miss taking you in my hand and stroking down your length…long andhard.
I giggled as I imagined him groaning at mywords.
Me:And as I do that, I’m thinking about putting my lips over the tip and sucking you until you can’t hold backanymore.
I had meant to leave him all hot and bothered, but all I accomplished was to do that to myself.Brilliant.
Did I believe Josh hadn’t been affected? Hell no. The man was as horny as they came. Which had been a huge positive forme.
Josh:You’re killing me, Hot Stuff. You do realize that,right?
Igrinned.
Me:You’re welcome, CoolStuff:)
Josh:We have to disembark now. Will talk to yousoon.
Me:Okay. And good luck tonight. Noah and I will be watching thegame.
Technically, it wasn’t true. But at least Noah would hear me get excited whenever Josh was on the ice—or whenever the camera flashed to him sitting on thebench.
Before I had a chance to put my phone in my purse, it rang.Dad?
The last time I’d talked to him was a few weeks before I told Mum that I waspregnant.
I accepted the call. “G’day,Dad.”
“Don’t you mean Granddad?” Unlike Mum, he didn’t seem upset about it. “Although personally, I don’t think I look old enough to be agrandfather.”
