Dirty Game: A Secret Baby Sports Romance Read online

  Promptly at seven thirty, the screen door to the kitchen screeched a little as Blake knocked and pulled the weathered door open to enter Aunt Lindy’s house. He had left his truck rumbling in the gravel drive.

  “You ready?” he called into the house.

  “I’m ready.” I had to stop myself from beaming at him.

  Unlike the last time I’d seen him, he wasn’t wearing a scowl. This was different. Very different.

  When he’d called this morning I’d been hesitant. Skeptical really, but here he was. Maybe he actually did want to forget the past.

  His cologne wafted toward me and I tried not to let it intoxicate me. Everything about the man did. It always had.

  I grabbed my bag and followed Blake to his truck.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  He looked over at me. “Thought we could take our own cruise. Just the two of us. Live music and drinks.”

  “Ok.”

  He helped me climb into the passenger side of his truck. It was a newer version of the one he’d had in high school. I noticed it was like driving a supped up computer system. I guessed AFA salaries could pay for things like that. On the flip side, my anchor salary wasn’t much. I was happy with what I made, but it was a far cry from luxury.

  We headed to the creek where he kept his boat.

  I felt as if I needed to say something to break the ice. To bridge the divide that had been between us, but I waited for his cues. The fact that we were on a date had to be enough for now.

  Once we pushed off from the rickety pier, we cruised under the bridge and Blake pointed the vessel toward Oakton. Patches of marsh and abandoned crab pots littered the channel to downtown. I hadn’t been there in years. It was the closest town to Gull Island, but the quickest way to get there was by boat.

  The sun was setting on Pelican Creek, and I was happy to get off the island for the night. I had been going stir crazy at Aunt Lindy’s.

  Fifteen minutes later, the boat eased toward the small downtown waterfront dotted with shops and restaurants. Before I could even see it, I heard music from a live band.

  “Is that Come Monday?” I asked.

  He smiled. His teeth were perfect and straight. God, how many times had I fallen asleep thinking about his beautiful face?

  “Yep. That’s the Fin Notes. They are a popular Jimmy Buffet cover band around here.”

  I wasn’t sure if it was a jab that I didn’t know anything local anymore or if he was really just letting me know what was popular.

  “They’re good,” I commented.

  He careened the skiff to an open slip two piers down from the infamous Dock House, and jumped out to tie the boat to a cleat. The Dock House was crowded. Patrons had spilled out onto the boardwalk to make room for the dancing fans holding their drinks in the air.

  “Can I get you something?” He finished tying his knot and turned his attention to me. He had been mostly quiet on the ride over.

  “What do you recommend?”

  I’d never actually been in the bar. It wasn’t the kind of place you could get in when you were underage and all the locals knew you and your boyfriend were in high school. We had tried a few times, but it had never worked. Everyone knew Blake was the county’s star quarterback back then.

  “Long Island ice teas here are pretty good.”

  “Isn’t that what you used to fix when we were in high school?” I asked.

  I didn’t remember much about them other than that they tasted like ice tea, but made me drunk after just one. I was always a light weight.

  “You always did like those fruity drinks.” He grinned.

  “Hey, they’re good.”

  “All right. I’ll be right back.”

  The boat swayed gently in the slip while I waited for Blake.

  I wondered how he existed like this. Famous and rich, but walking around in a T-shirt and pair of khaki shorts like any other local. But he wasn’t like anyone else. He had made a name for himself that was unrivaled by anyone in the state.

  He was a top QB. He was revered in the sport. Anytime I saw an article with his name on it I always clicked on it. I watched every press conference. All his post-game interviews. He was pushed and pulled in every direction, and yet here he was like everyone else—as if he was a local just hanging out for the night. It was amazing.

  I looked up when I saw him walking down the dock, carrying two Long Island ice teas. I took a moment to drink in every toned inch of the man towering over me.

  “Can you give me a hand?” He motioned. “Don’t want to slosh all the alcohol out of these drinks before we get the chance to enjoy them.”

  “These drinks are huge,” I remarked.

  I lifted the lemon from the edge of the Styrofoam cup and squeezed it into the drink. I tipped the cup back and gulped down a few swallows, wanting to feel the warm numbness the alcohol would spread through my body

  “Hold on, girl. These are strong.” He swooped in, trying to slow me down.

  “I think I can handle my alcohol, thank you very much.” I knocked back another sip.

  Blake laughed. “Maybe. But I don’t want to carry my passengers home.”

  He took a sip of his tea, and I watched his eyes as they carried over my shoulder, down my collarbone, and dipped between my breasts.

  “Are you checking me out?” I blurted out before I had time to cap the filter on my words.

  “Darlin’, I’m just takin’ in the view.” He smiled. “You aren’t making this easy.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He sat and watched a sailboat cruise past them, heading toward the sound.

  “Hey, Blake, you playin’ tonight?” a rowdy voice called from the crowd. They were teetering on the railing, which ran in front of the Dock House.

  I looked at Blake quizzically.

  “Nah, not tonight.” He raised his cup to them.

  The guys started to laugh.

  “Oh yeah, sorry, man. Looks like you’ve got other plans.” They staggered off to the dark side of the pier.

  “What were they talking about?” I asked.

  A smile slid across Blake’s lips. “I play a little. Sometimes on open mic night.”

  “What? Are you any good?” I couldn’t help myself. I thought I knew everything about him, but he was revealing just how much I didn’t know. We had years to catch up on.

  “Well, now I guess you’d have to tell me that. I just play.”

  “When did you start playing? I’ve never heard you.”

  He eyed me and I felt the guilt. This was the time when he was going to tell me I left before I got to know him. That there were parts of him I’d never bothered to find out.

  He let out a long exhale. “A friend of mine in the music business started messing around with his guitar. I picked it up pretty quickly.”

  I bit the inside of my lip. Of course. He had celebrity friends. Parties. Backstage passes. Island trips to the Caribbean. It was naïve of me to think that just because I watched his press conferences I still knew him.

  I felt little needles of green envy surfacing at the thought of other people knowing a part of him I didn’t.

  “I’d would love to hear you play some time. Will you tell me the next time you perform?”

  “Uh, sure. I’ll let you know.”

  Under the stars and low lights of the Dock House things should have felt normal. They should have felt familiar, but all I could think about was what had happened eight years ago. How much distance and history there was between us.

  And suddenly, I found myself desperate to fix all of it. To discover who he was now. To know the man he had become. The problem was I had no idea where to start. I couldn’t get my bearings when he was near.

  One look into those sexy eyes of his and my heart beat faster, my breath hitched, and my core twinged with deep desire. I wanted to know him in so many ways, but I was lost trying to find a starting point.

  I cleared my throat. “So, what’s it
like being a Thrasher?”

  He chuckled over his drink. “Is that your version of an ice breaker?”

  I blushed. “Yeah. I guess so. Football is always a winner with you, isn’t it?”

  He stretched his legs forward, taking up most of the bow. “Darlin’, I love football. You’re right. That much hasn’t changed.”

  “Of course not.” I felt stupid. “I just meant what’s it like in the AFA? Do you like playing in Orlando?”

  “Yeah, I like it. It’s Florida. I have a killer team. Coach and I get along. Money isn’t bad.” He winked.

  “So it’s what you want? What you’ve always wanted?”

  “Hell yeah. It doesn’t get any better than what I have with the Thrashers.”

  I liked the Long Island ice tea, the lemon especially. “And you don’t care about the pressure or all the press attention?”

  He looked at me from the corner of his eye. Those beautiful eyes. “You know you’re starting to sound like a reporter.”

  “Well I am a reporter, smart ass.”

  He laughed. The sound was deep and rich. “So let’s talk about that.”

  “I took a job in Dallas at a medium-sized station for that market. I was a news coordinator. At least that’s what they called me. It was a total grunt job, but I took any shift they gave me. After a year of proving I could work hard they gave me a floating reporter spot.” I paused to inhale my drink. “Two years later, one of the weekend anchors got food poisoning right before the late show and they threw me behind the desk. I was completely unprepared. I had no idea what I was doing up there, but the producer loved it and offered me one of the anchor slots.” My eyes lifted to his. “So you are looking at the sunny face of Wake Up Big D.” I smiled brightly, playing up the cheesiness of the title. I felt as if I was listing off my resume.

  “No shit,” he whispered.

  “No shit.”

  “And to think you ran the school paper.”

  “Oh please tell me the Pelican Gazette is still running.”

  He grinned. “Oh yeah. I think it’s online now, though.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Of course it is. Even on the island.” I sat back, feeling the boat rock slightly in the slip. It was soothing. “Blake, how do you do all this and the AFA? I don’t get it. Why come back here? Why try to blend in when you’re such a huge star?”

  He looked at me and I felt a little quake inside.

  “It’s home, Sierra.”

  I felt the guilt take root under my skin. He loved this place so much. And I couldn’t figure it out. I never had been able to. My eyes drifted to the bar.

  “You want to go up there?” He must have noticed me eyeing the dancing partiers.

  “Do you want to go up there?” I countered. I remembered having to coax him onto the dance floor at prom.

  “Come on.” He took the drink from my hand and lodged it in a drink holder. The next thing I knew he had hoisted me onto the pier, locked his fingers through mine, and was leading me to the music.

  10

  Blake

  The song slowed as soon as Sierra and I were within five feet of the deck.

  Her eyes sank into mine and she bit her bottom lip. Fuck. Why was she making this so difficult?

  I tried not to look in her eyes. Before the Fin Notes launched into the chorus she was wrapped around my torso, her cheek resting against my chest. This was all more than what I bargained for. It had to be the strong drinks that had her nestled against me.

  I let my hand glide down her back until it palmed the curve along the small of her back, fitting her snugly to my body. She felt like velvet under my rough hands. My chest tugged to take a deep breath. What in the hell was happening?

  “This is nice,” Sierra murmured.

  We swayed slowly, but it seemed as if the world had stopped.

  I nodded, not wanting to confirm the words out loud. I reached for her hair and closed my eyes as my fingers coiled along the strands. This was dangerous.

  She had always been able to do this to me. Make my cock ache. Make my thoughts turn to images of her under me. I had a strong visual of her lips wrapped around the base of my dick while I pumped in and out of her. And she always gave me what I wanted—she’d let me come deep in her throat. Her eyes misted with the intensity and the pleasure, but she never stopped until she had licked every drop from my head. She always made sure I was satisfied. And, how could I not be with those sweet lips sucking me? She had always been a good girl—a sweet girl—but the night she gave me her virginity it was as if she had given me the keys to an unopened box. A box that contained the most alluring intoxicating siren my cock and my heart had ever known.

  The music faded from the stage. The song ended and I backed up too quickly, knocking Sierra off balance.

  “Whoa.” I snaked an arm around her waist to steady her. “I told you those Long Island ice teas are no joke.”

  She giggled and looked up at me. Those blue eyes stopped me in my tracks. She was drunk. She never could handle those drinks. But that wasn’t the only thing I saw in her eyes. Thirst. Hunger. Lust.

  Fuck.

  “I’m getting you home.” I ushered her along the boardwalk.

  “So you do want to take me home?” she purred.

  She looked happier than I had seen her since we’d run into each other again. The drink must have had a way of softening her. Maybe it was the drinks or maybe she was starting to have fun with me. I wasn’t sure.

  “Already?” She pretended to pout.

  “Yes, now.”

  “I’m totally fine.” Sierra giggled.

  “You’re drunk. Time to go.”

  “But we just got here. One dance and you’re done?”

  “Something like that.”

  I hauled her down the boardwalk and lifted her into the skiff.

  I sat her in the seat next to me so I could keep an eye on her. The last thing I wanted was for her to tip overboard. I kept one hand firmly planted on her hip. She sighed at my touch.

  I shook my head and cranked the engine.

  She was either making this way too easy or way too hard. With her nuzzled into my chest, I couldn’t decide which.

  I didn’t say a fucking word the entire ride home from the boat.

  I parked just off Lindy’s back porch and carried Sierra inside. I deposited her onto the couch in the living room.

  She moaned lightly and smiled. “I had fun. I think I feel another dance coming on.” She tried to stand.

  “Whoa darlin’. You’re going to take a nose dive if you do that.”

  It was hard not to laugh at her. She was blitzed from only one drink.

  “Me too. Get some sleep.”

  Her hand flew out and latched on to my leg when I tried to turn. “Are you leaving?” she asked.

  I thought about how Sierra’s hair had felt. How she’d melted into my chest. How she’d wrapped her hot little body around me when we’d danced. Damn it.

  “Yeah. I think so.”

  “Why?” Her eyes had a way of pulling me in.

  “You’re drunk.” I pointed at her.

  “So?”

  “So. Even if I was thinking about taking you to bed again, it wouldn’t be like this.”

  Because that’s what she was thinking. One drink. One slow dance. One cruise alone and she’d have me back where she wanted. In her bed. That she would be the one to fucking seduce me.

  That wasn’t how this was going down.

  “Didn’t we used to have amazing sex?” Her words were slow.

  My cock twitched slightly. “Yeah. We did.”

  My head flashed with an image of her tits. They were fucking incredible. I used to suck and bite them until she screamed my name in the back of my truck and my ears echoed with her voice.

  That was when we had to sneak around. Sex in my truck. Sex behind a hidden sand dune. Sex on the boat if we could get out for the day.

  But never this. Never in a house when we were the only two home. It
was what I’d always wanted—to fuck her epically. To take her on her knees. To fuck her every which way I had invented and some I hadn’t yet. Alone, where she could suck my cock all night and I could bury myself inside her over and over again until the sun rose over the water. I’d had it so bad for this girl.

  Her eyes lifted to mine. “Have you thought about what it would be like now?”

  I knelt next to her, close enough my lips almost touched her ear. I brushed her silky hair to the side.

  “It would be so fucking epic you’d never want another man inside you.”

  She whimpered.

  I stood, her eyes following me.

  “Good night, Sierra.”

  I walked out, letting the screen door creak behind me. I tried to rub the throbbing ache out of my cock as I strolled to the truck. I was so fucking hard I didn’t know how I managed to put one foot in front of the other. That girl was killing me.

  11

  Sierra

  The next morning, I brushed my teeth with a tightly wrapped towel around my body. The hot shower hadn’t exactly washed away the humiliation or the hangover. I was pretty sure I had thrown myself at Blake last night.

  I spit into the sink and rested the toothbrush in the holder. What in the hell was I thinking? I was mortified. And part of me was still turned on. Did he want me? Was it possible that he still wanted me after all this time?

  His words still buzzed in my ear.

  I retrieved a pair of tweezers from my cosmetic bag and critically studied my brow line. I had let my time in Aunt Lindy’s house get to me. When was the last time I had a facial or a wax?

  I exhaled into the mirror as I wiped on a second layer of mascara.

  Had he taken any of it seriously? I doubted it. Women were always throwing themselves at him. I saw it after every game. He had websites dedicated to him, created by a hot female fan base. There was a reason he was one of the AFA’s most notorious bachelors—he refused to get serious with any one person, and was known for sleeping around.

  He wasn’t the sweet guy I had once known. I had to remember that.

  But, I had seen a glimmer of the man I’d once known last night while we’d been dancing. His fingers had wound through my hair. He smelled like the old Blake I’d known—like a mix of juniper and mint. I’d always thought he smelled that way because of working with the wood from the boats, but now I knew it was him. That heavenly mixture that made me lose all logic and rational thought. As my cheek pressed to his T-shirt it had all come rushing back—the way we used to be.