Player: A Secret Baby Sports Romance

by Aubrey Irons

  “The only thing that’s important is that I’m all yours, princess,” he says evenly, his eyes burning right into mine. “Of course I came back for this,” he says, bringing a palm down to lay across my belly. “But I came back for you.”

  He pulls me closer against him, and it’s almost on instinct that my hands slide up to his chest.

  Suddenly, Austin’s face goes tight as he starts to breath quickly. He starts to drop to his knees, and all of a sudden the panic comes rushing back into me.

  Oh God, the tackle in the church.

  I’m suddenly realizing that in my whole ridiculous fainting spell, I’ve never asked him if he’s hurt from slamming Vince to the ground.

  “Oh God, Austin!” I drop to my knees, my hands going to his face as my eyes go wide. “Shit, are you okay?!”

  He stares at me. “What?” he shakes his head as his brow furrows. “Nat I’m-”

  “Is it your head?” I’m gasping, feeling the the panic spiraling through me as I cup his face in my hands. “Sit down! I’m going to grab one of the med-”

  “Natalie.”

  The firmness of his voice stops me, and as I turn back I suddenly realize he’s grinning at me. “No, you stand; I kneel.”

  “I-”

  Oh.

  OH.

  He rolls his eyes as I slowly stand, feeling my heart hammering in my chest as my chest rises and falls.

  “So, you left this at my place-”

  Austin holds his hand up, and there in his fingers, glittering gaudily in the sunlight, is the ring.

  My ring, from Vegas.

  “And I was sort of hoping you might want it back.”

  Oh my God.

  My lips are opening and closing, but no words come out as I blink and just stare at the man on one knee before me.

  “Natalie Ames-”

  Austin looks up at me, that same cowboy grin on his face and that dangerous glimmer in his eyes that swept me away by the elevators of the Chateau Marmont. Before the fake marriage, before Vegas, before all the ups and down and turmoil.

  Before I realized I fell in love with him with that first look.

  My heart stops for one single beat as the whole world goes still around us and Austin looks right into my eyes and takes a deep breath.

  “I fucked this up the first time around. But this time, I want to do this right.”

  He looks me right in the eye, and I’m almost saying yes before he even says the words.

  “Will you marry me? For real this time, and for always.”

  I’m screaming and throwing my arms around him as he stands. And then his lips are on mine, kissing me fiercely - a kiss that fills in all the gaps and lets everything else in the world just fall away.

  “I love you,” he murmurs into my lips, and I can feel the tears start to pour down my cheeks.

  Happy ones this time.

  “I love you too,” I whisper back, feeling him grin as he picks me up and spins me around, kissing me all over again.

  “Natalie!”

  I turn from Austin just as Vivian all but tackles me, throwing her arms around me and hugging me tight. “You scared the shit out of me!” She pulls back, grinning at me. “I can’t believe you fainted.”

  My jaw drops. “Well I can’t believe you left me here!”

  She laughs. “Please! I was getting your man here and his smooth spy of a friend to come break this whole thing up.” She nods behind her to a sheepishly grinning Kyle.

  I furrow my brow at him over her shoulder. “Yeah, Kyle, you carry a gun now?”

  He frowns, stooping to pick Vince’s glittering silver ring off the grass. “Why is this so hard for everyone to comprehend?”

  Austin laughs and shakes head. “Because you’re a big sweetheart, buddy.”

  “I am not,” he mutters.

  Vivian grins. “Oh, I think it was very sweet of you to come help rescue my sister, you know.”

  Kyle looks up, flashing a charming grin as he pushes a hand through his hair. “Hey, you know, just doing my job.”

  I glance at Austin in time to see him roll his eyes.

  “So, listen,” Kyle turns towards my sister with a shrug. “I was thinking maybe you and I-”

  “Oooh my God,” Vivian’s face goes white as her eyes drop to his hand. “I, uh, look, I don’t even know you-”

  Kyle’s face falls before he follows her eyes to the ring in his hand. “Oh shit!” His face goes red as he quickly jerks the ring behind his back. “No! No-no, I was going to say ‘get some coffee sometime’, not-” He swallows quickly. “You know, not that.”

  Vivian blushes. “Coffee I could probably commit to.”

  Austin pulls me aside.

  “You know, you, uh-” He clears his throat and arches a brow at me.

  “You never actually said yes, you know.”

  The corners of my mouth curl. “Oh, I didn’t?”

  “Nope.”

  “Hmm…” I bring my hand up to tap my chin, pantomiming a long thinking face. “I mean, I’m going to need some sort of prenup - you know, to protect myself.”

  Austin rolls his eyes.

  “And of course we’re going to have to sign a legally binding napkin of some-”

  “Hey princess.” He yanks me tight against him, his hand coming up to cup my chin.

  “Will you just shut up and say yes?”

  I barely have time to get the word out before my mouth goes crashing into his.

  “Yes,” I whisper out into his lips. “A thousand times yes.”

  “You know-” Austin shoots a look back towards his friend and my sister. Vivian’s making gooey eyes at Kyle, who seems to have the world’s biggest grin on his face as he shrugs casually and says something that makes my sister laugh.

  I turn back to see Austin flashing me a smile as he dangles a set of keys in the air between us.

  I raise a brow at him. “And what might those be?”

  He grins. “These are the keys to that lovely new yacht tied to the pier over there.” He nods towards a sleek looking boat down on the water before turning back to me and winking.

  “And whether she knows it or not, your sister is running some seriously great interference on a certain owner of that boat.”

  The smile creeps across my face as I shake my head at him.

  “You are terrible!”

  “Terrible enough that you don’t want me to take you out on that boat and tear this terrible wedding dress off of you?”

  My jaw drops. “Terrible, huh?”

  Austin makes an exaggerated grimace face as he scratches his head. “Awful, honestly, I’d be doing you a favor by literally ripping it off of you.”

  My cheeks flush as I step into him, dragging a finger up his hard chest through his t-shirt. “Is that a threat, or a promise,” I husk against his lips.

  “Both,” he growls, his eyes flashing hungrily at me.

  I shrug as casually as I can with the raw need for him coursing through my body like hot fire.

  “Well, I suppose it is a pretty terrible dress.”

  “The worst.”

  “Tear it off me you say?”

  “There won’t be a stitch of it left on you.”

  “Why Mr. Taylor, are you saying you want me naked?”

  “Nothing but a smile and that ring, princess,” he growls.

  I shiver as the heat pools between my legs, pulling his lips to mine by the collar of his t-shirt.

  “I think we need to get to that boat,” I moan into his lips as he kisses me. “Right now.”

  I muffle my shriek into his shoulder as he scoops me up and makes a dash for the dock.

  Ten minutes and half a mile out to sea later, he makes good on that promise.

  The End

  Pssst… Looking for more Austin and Natalie?

  An exclusive, two-chapter bonus epilogue to PLAYER will be released on June 2nd to mailing list members only.

  Much more steam, a follow-up on Kyle and Vivian, an
d a very pregnant wedding.

  Sign up now to get it!

  http://eepurl.com/bu3-3P

  In the meantime, keep reading for a very special FOUR-BOOK bonus series, Soldiers of Fortune.

  Oh, and there’s also a three-chapter sneak-peak of “Score: A Stepbrother Sports Romance” a the very very end. Because why not ;

  Also by Aubrey Irons

  Standalone Stepbrother Romance:

  Score: A Stepbrother Sports Romance

  Secret: A Military Stepbrother Romance

  Cockney: A British Stepbrother Romance

  Crude: A Stepbrother Romance

  Soldiers of Fortune Series:

  Heat

  Burn

  Scorch

  Roar

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  Thanks so much for reading, and for supporting an independent author!

  About the Author

  Aubrey Irons enjoys writing about bold, sassy, and intelligent women and the dominant, cocky, and quite typically forbidden alpha males who love and lust for them; gripping stories, happy endings, and enough heat to keep things extra steamy!

  In the real world, Aubrey is kept plenty entertained by her own tattooed Marine husband, their precocious and adorable three year old, and one very ill-behaved puppy.

  To find more of Aubrey’s books on Amazon,

  Click here!

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  Author’s Note

  You never forget your first.

  The Soldiers of Fortune series were my very first books, written almost a year ago. Originally, the concept was a single story, one that eventually turned in Scorch, book 3 in the series. But the more I delved into back-stories and the way love transcends so much more than the defined edges that say who we should and shouldn’t give it to, the more the whole story needed to be told.

  As a thank you for your support, I’ve decided to include them here in this special first-edition of PLAYER. Four men, four broken pasts, and four chances at love and redemption.

  Please enjoy, with my compliments.

  -Aubrey Irons

  Part I

  Heat: Soldiers of Fortune Book 1

  Copyright © 2015 Aubrey Irons

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, actual events or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademark status of products referred to in this book and acknowledges that trademarks have been used without permission.

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for review purposes.

  This book is intended for mature, adult audiences only. It contains sexually explicit and graphic scenes and language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please do not continue reading this book of you are under the age of 18 or are offended by content of this nature.

  All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older and are in no way blood relations. All acts of a sexual nature are completely consensual.

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  1

  Reagan

  “They’re fucking what?!” I almost drop the glass of champagne in my hand as I feel the floor practically drop out from beneath my feet. My campaign manager Donald’s face is impassive and steely - pretty much like it always is even in crisis meltdown situations like this - with his bushy grey eyebrows furrowing slightly like they do when he’s got news for me neither of us want to hear.

  “They’re pulling out, Reagan; entirely.” I see him reach out of habit for the phantom pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket that hasn’t been there for five years; the frown in his eyebrows deepening.

  “All of it?”

  He sticks a pen between his lips instead of his old vice and glowers at me; “Every damn penny.”

  I swear fiercely under my breath, clenching my hand tight and digging my nails into my palm as the reality of the situation hits me like a wet blanket; “How fucked are we?”

  Donald tenses his face; he hates when I swear, especially in public and especially in public when there are cameras everywhere. “Lower your voice, Reagan” He mutters through the pen in his teeth, looking at me like I’m an ill-behaved child in that way that drives me crazy. In the movie version of my life, Donald is the kind and sagely grandfatherly type who guides me along a path of adorable metaphors and teary-eyed life lessons to victory. In reality, he’s cold, calculating, and robotically efficient at keeping me in line with his battle plans. But then again, kindly grandfatherly types doling out anachronisms like they were candy don’t win elections; robots do.

  “They were forty percent of our campaign.”

  I can feel the breath leave my lungs as the room spins around me; my lips moving soundlessly as my brain searches for the words to possible use here. This simply can’t be happening; not after we’ve worked so freaking hard to get to where we are.

  Donald glares at me as he furiously chews on his poor pen; “Maybe next time, you’ll stay on the damn speech I give you instead of going off on one of your ‘save the world’ tangents, Reagan. You know they’re going to jump down you throat for that kind of things because-” His phone beeps and he frowns, trailing off as he shakes his head and mutters at whatever’s just popped up, but I can pretty much take my pick of what he was going to say anyways: ‘Because I’m a girl,’ or ‘Because I’m the youngest person to ever run for the State Senate of New York,’ or my favorite, ‘Because I’m the daughter of the late William Archer; billionaire philanthropist-slash-arms-dealer, depending on who’s opinion you ask.’ To most people, I’m either the next great American Dream for politics, or a nut-job, which plays nicely to the split media opinion of eager-eyed media darling or poor little rich girl, depending on which new station you like to watch. I hang my head; running was one thing, but dropping out like this is going to be a news anchor joke for years.

  “So this is it then? We’re done, just like that?” I can hear my voice from outside my body, my ears ringing and my jaw clenching in that way Donald always tells me not to do in front of cameras because it makes me look aggressive. I look down at the trembling glass of champagne in my hand, suddenly wishing it was the size of a movie-theater cup.

  “What?” My campaign manager takes the mangled pen from his mouth and briefly wrinkles his face at it, as if just noticing how gross a habit it is. He looks up at me, a stony look on his face; “No of course not,” He snaps, a bit more condescendingly than I need right now; “We’ve been approached by another new donor who sees a lot of promise in our campaign.”

  I feel myself exhale for the first time in what seems like an hour and start to shake my head; “Well Jesus, Donald, you scared the living-”

  “Now, you aren’t going to like it, of course, but try to let go of personal baggage for once,” He interrupts me, his voice low as he glares at
me; “Try to remember that this is about more than just you?”

  Instantly, I narrow my eyes as suddenly every one of my gut instincts start to tingle at the look on his face and the tone in his voice; “Donald-” I start to shake my head, my jaw clenching as I feel the anger and the heat rising in my cheeks; “No, absolutely not! It’s not even an option!”

  Even though we’re off in the corner of the big open gallery of the museum where we’ve been throwing the now seemingly-useless campaign fundraiser, people around us turn to stare at my outburst. Donald shushes me again as if I’m some child acting out; “It’s our only option, Reagan.” He huffs, “Look, we all get that you don’t want your Father’s company’s money, but it is the only move here.” Donald’s rolling his eyes at me in the obnoxiously patronizing way that makes my blood boil, and for the eight-hundredth time, I have to remind myself that he’s really good at this job, otherwise I’d have blown up in his face and told him where to stick it a month ago.

  “Now, there’s a man here from Archer Holdings to meet with you, and he’d like to talk with you-”

  “Ms. Archer, they need some shots with some of the museum trustees.” I’m still shaking my head furiously, my mouth open and closing like a fish out of water, when one of my staffers scurries over and starts to tug me by the arm; yanking me away from Donald before I can even come up with anything to say. I turn back to over my shoulder to yell something like ‘We’re not done talking about this,’ but they’re already pushing me in front of the wall of flashing lights and clicking cameras and back into the spotlight where I can’t look like I want so break something.