Dirty Game: A Secret Baby Sports Romance

by Violet Paige

  He’d held me close, as if he cared. As if the past eight years weren’t a huge wedge between us. As if somewhere under his tough exterior he was still the first guy I’d ever loved. The one I’d given myself to.

  He had to be in there somewhere.

  I turned off the light and walked downstairs to make a pot of coffee. The house was a complete disaster. The beach charity foundation was supposed to be here before lunch to take the furniture in the front room. Aunt Lindy had one of those ridiculous church organs that weighed a thousand pounds. I had to get it out of here.

  There were a dozen other pieces I was going to send with them too. I started tagging the furniture that was mismatched. Some I didn’t recognize. She had added many things to the house over the years.

  It wasn’t as if there was a handbook to guide me through this process. I was overwhelmed with the house. My aunt had been a packrat. Only, I never realized it until I started opening cabinets and drawers. She had hidden her secret for years. I was only now realizing what a serious problem it was.

  But she wasn’t here to lecture. She wasn’t here to tell me what was valuable and what wasn’t. I couldn’t ask her what I should keep. And maybe if I had been a better niece I would have known all these things.

  I would have known her wishes. I would know what to do with her rhinestone jewelry and the enormous collection of silk scarves that filled a trunk in the attic.

  Instead, I was the girl who had let Roger Wyatt scare me off this island. I had let that man keep me away. The fear he’d planted in my soul had separated me from the only woman who had cared enough to take me in and raise me.

  And he’d kept me from the only person I’d ever truly loved.

  I filled the coffee pot and poured the water into the tank in the back. Within minutes the kitchen smelled like fresh-brewed coffee. I inhaled a cup while I sat at the bay window, looking out over the sound.

  He had stolen so much from me that day. What was worse were the seeds of doubt he had sprouted in me about my family.

  I knew exactly what he had tried to imply. That Aunt Lindy wasn’t my biological aunt. That the entire story of how I ended up on this island was just that—a story—another ghost tale passed down to a scared child.

  He stole my courage that day. I had never asked Aunt Lindy the truth. I didn’t want to know, even though in some deep crevice of my heart I did. But it wasn’t any of his damn business. He had no right to throw that in my face, or undercut my aunt. All she had ever done was love me.

  I sat at her table, surrounded by her things. All I could think about was when she’d sat in the front row of church for the Christmas pageant. How she’d stitched my fairy Halloween costume together by hand. She had tried to teach me to bake and the art of making sun tea. She showed me the best times to find sand dollars on the Cape and how to coax a hermit crab out of its shell. During the summer, she helped me line the bookshelf in my room with fireflies in Mason jars. We would always let their sluggish bodies out in the morning.

  I felt the well of tears.

  Somewhere in this house I would find the answers. My history was here.

  But it was never up to Roger Wyatt to hand me those answers. Never.

  Things could have been so different if I hadn’t left. If I hadn’t been a scared little pregnant girl.

  But that man had scared the hell out of me.

  I put the mug down. Maybe it was time I paid him a visit.

  I grabbed my bag and keys and drove toward Roger Wyatt’s house.

  12

  Blake

  I heard wheels crunching over the gravel and stepped out onto the porch to see who was pulling up the drive. I had a hot cup of coffee in my hands.

  It was Sierra. I felt the jolt between my ribs.

  She stepped from the car. “Good morning.”

  “How’s your head?” I grinned. She looked fucking adorable. Her blond hair fell over her shoulders. She was wearing cut off shorts, so short that if she bent over I’d see my favorite slice of heaven. My dick hardened instantly. She was a damn she-devil that one. All she had to do was show up and instantly I wanted to kiss her until I had her stripped bare. I wanted to kiss her lips, her tits, her sweet skin and her legs all the way to that honey-soaked paradise.

  “Are you staying here?” she asked. “Is this where you are for the summer?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

  She looked confused. I saw her eye the boat barn.

  “I actually wasn’t expecting to see you. I came to talk to your dad, but maybe another time would be better.” She stepped back toward the driver side.

  “Hey, wait.” I jogged down the stairs. She stopped. “That’s going to be nearly impossible, darlin’.”

  “Why?”

  “My dad died three months ago.”

  Her hand flew to her mouth. “What? I hadn’t heard.”

  I shoved my hands in my front pockets. “Yeah. Heart attack while he was running the sander. Uncle Billy found him.”

  Her eyes softened. “I’m sorry, Blake. Really I am.”

  “Thanks.”

  We walked to the porch and sat on the top step.

  “I can’t believe I didn’t know,” she whispered.

  “It’s not like you’re around here. How would you have known?”

  “The news, maybe?” She looked at me and I saw the concern in her eyes. I didn’t want pity from her. I’d had my share of condolences.

  “Happened during the draft. It didn’t get any coverage. I wanted it that way. I hate it when the press follows me. And they aren’t welcome on the island. I didn’t need any damn reporters at the funeral. He wouldn’t have wanted that either.”

  “Right. I get that.”

  “It was simple.” I didn’t know why I started in on the details. “He wanted a plain juniper box. He’s in the family cemetery next to my mom.”

  Her eyes flashed with pain at the mention of my mother. I swore it was like one minefield after another between us. We couldn’t get away from the explosives before another one was set off. And we did it too each other, reminding the other of the pain from when she had left.

  “God, your mom, Blake…” She hung her head. “I always liked her. She was always so sweet to me.”

  “Probably because she needed another girl around here,” I joked, but I didn’t feel the lightness of it. My mom had loved Sierra. She had been crushed when Sierra had taken off and then we’d gotten her diagnosis.

  I cleared my throat. “You said you were here to see my dad?”

  She suddenly looked uncomfortable. “It was nothing.”

  “It had to be something for you to drive over this early.”

  She shook her head. “I wanted to know what he thought about some of Aunt Lindy’s things. That’s all.”

  “Like what?”

  “I—uh—I don’t want to bother you with it. I had no idea you were dealing with all this.” She brushed off her legs and stood from the porch. “I’ll take care of it. The beach charity van is going to be at the house soon anyway.”

  “What are you doing with Lindy’s house?” I asked.

  I had struck a nerve. “Sell it I guess.”

  “You’re going to sell it? That house had been in her family for a hundred years.”

  “I know how old it is. Do you have an issue with it?”

  “It shouldn’t go to an outsider. That’s all I’m trying to fucking say,” I barked.

  “And just how do you categorize me?” she fumed.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Me. Where do you think I fit in?”

  “You’re an islander, Sierra. At least you used to be.”

  “Yeah,” she whispered. “Used to be.”

  She walked to the car. “I’m sorry about your dad. Really.”

  The ignition started and I watched as she rolled down the windows before backing out of the driveway.

  I strolled over to her door. “Hey. What do you say we do something late
r?” I put my hand on the window edge.

  “What? This again? I think last night proved we are a colossal disaster.”

  “No Long Island ice teas this time.”

  She chewed her lip. “I don’t know.”

  “How about this? Let’s go to the Cape for the day. It’s hot. You shouldn’t be locked up inside cleaning up shit. Let’s take the boat out. Remind you that you really are an islander.”

  “But—the charity—”

  I shrugged. “Leave them a note. I’ll pick you up on the pier in an hour.”

  I saw the corners of her pink lips curl. Damn she was still gorgeous.

  “Ok. I can do that. And I’ll pack some sandwiches?”

  I slapped the side of her car. “You better. I eat a lot. See you in an hour.”

  I watched as she backed all the way out of the drive and realized I needed to get the cooler ready. I had a full day of drinking to do.

  13

  Sierra

  I placed the open slices of bread on the cutting board and furiously spread mayonnaise and mustard over them.

  I couldn’t believe Roger Wyatt was dead. The man I blamed for ruining my life wasn’t here anymore. It was a lot to take in. What did that mean for Blake? He was dealing with the death of his father. I had missed so many events in his life.

  I hurried to wrap the turkey sandwiches and tuck them inside plastic sleeves. He would be here any minute. I couldn’t think about Blake’s dad or the past. Today was all about the future.

  I watched Blake anchor his boat on a secluded end of the bank where few tourists visited. I wondered if he tried to stay away from potential fans on purpose. I was constantly at odds trying to figure him out. He had to be feeling that way too. Was that what this was? An attempt to make me fall in love with the island again so I wouldn’t sell the house?

  Light bounced off the water and caught the glistening of a swimming school of fish. Sometimes wild ponies could be spotted on top of the dunes, playing a game of tag. I peered at the horizon, looking for the horses.

  It had been eight years since I had been to the Cape, but Aunt Lindy had taught me well how to pack for a day at the beach. I’d never forgotten her lessons. I had a cooler full of drinks, sandwiches, and suntan lotion. Blake smiled as he loaded the cooler and other bags onto his boat.

  “You know I usually just bring a six-pack of beer and sometimes a bag of chips.”

  “I wanted to make sure we had everything we needed.” Maybe three bags were too many for a day trip, but I wasn’t about to admit that to him.

  When we anchored, he helped me spread the blanket on a stretch of beach a few feet from where the waves were lapping against the shore.

  I sprawled out on the blanket with a book while Blake started on a beer. I kept reading the same page over and over again. I couldn’t get past the second paragraph. Every time I looked up at Blake, all I could focus on were the endless amounts of chiseled muscles. There was something mesmerizing about his bronze skin, and my imagination was taking over as I watched him rub more lotion on his arms and chest.

  “Either you can’t take your eyes off me, or you want some of this. Do you want me to put some on you?” Blake held out the lotion bottle with a coy grin. “The sun is serious today. I would hate for you to get burned.”

  “All right.” It made sense. I didn’t want to get a sun burn this late in the summer.

  I rolled onto my stomach, allowing him full access to my back. He poured a generous amount of coconut-scented oil in his palm. He rubbed his hands together, working the lather all over my back.

  I closed my eyes as the circular motion of his hand deepened while he explored the curves of my hips. He pulled the ties that fastened my bikini at the middle of my back and laid them on either side of my ribs. I relaxed into the blanket as he massaged the untouched skin with more intensity, a move that almost brought a moan from my throat. He inhaled while his thumbs worked the small of my back, slowly dipping below my waistline.

  “How does that feel?” he teased.

  “Uh-huh,” was all I could manage to stammer.

  “Is that all you have to say?” he asked. His hands made their way down my thigh, pressing in all the right spots.

  “Do you want me to tell you to stop?” I giggled, hoping he would keep going.

  It took everything in me to keep my hands and mouth off this man.

  Blake laughed and, with one firm hand, pulled the edge of my sun-kissed shoulder so that I rolled toward him. He gathered the scraps of bikini fabric clinging to my skin, letting his fingers brush across the pink flesh of my breasts, and tossed the top over our heads.

  I’d never felt so beautifully exposed before.

  I gasped as his mouth found mine. His lips were firm and urgent, but I could feel the want and longing lingering between us. Playful teasing turned hot the instant he bit down on my bottom lip, just enough to make me catch my breath.

  I yielded to his tongue and tugged him down against my breasts. His skin was hot from the sun, and I dug my fingers into his shoulders, as if that would keep me from spiraling out of control. Yes, I wanted this, but I hadn’t thought it through. Everything felt too good to stop. I could taste the salt on his neck as my lips grazed over his shoulder and worked up toward his ear.

  Arching toward him, I drank in the feeling of his rough hands exploring the inches of my exposed skin. Gradually, his lips trailed down the line of my neck until he was hovering over my breasts, casting a shadow on the creamy skin that only a few minutes ago had been covered in a bright pink bikini top.

  He stopped, and for a second, I worried something was wrong. I watched him, his eyes raked over me, taking in the curves of my body, my golden hair splayed all around the beach blanket, the rhythmic motion of my chest breathing in and out, and my eyes. I wanted him. I hoped he could see it. Everything happening between us right now felt hot, intense, and like we were in the same place, for the first time in eight years.

  “You’re fucking gorgeous, Sierra.”

  He reached for my hands and brought them over my head, nestling them in the sunbaked sand off the edge of the blanket. I lightly pulled against his grip, wiggling closer to him, but steadily resisted the urge to struggle against his control.

  “Don’t move,” he ordered.

  I nodded.

  His teeth grazed my neck then returned to my breasts. I cried out when his teeth pulled my nipple between them. He bit down, sending an exquisite pressure pulsing through my body.

  “Oh God,” I moaned.

  It only made him suck and bite harder. My hips jerked involuntarily and I felt the wetness between my legs.

  My back arched so that our bodies were locked together, separated by only a tiny bikini bottom and a pair of swimming trunks. I smiled. I could feel exactly what I was doing to him. His cock was solid and long.

  He groaned.

  “I think I’m going to have to fuck you right here. Sex on the beach?”

  I nodded. “I want you too.” I breathed, knowing I was making a mistake, but I couldn’t stop myself.

  I wiggled enough so he could pull the strings on the side of my bikini. He tossed the scrap of fabric out of his way.

  I didn’t care about the sun beating down on us, or the sand all around. My body was gliding against his. His hands were all over me. His tongue in an out of my mouth. Covering my nipples. Gliding over my stomach.

  “Fuck,” he growled, pushing my legs wide.

  “Ohh,” I whimpered. My head turned to the sound and that’s when I saw it.

  The tide.

  It was coming in, but I was too late.

  Before we had a chance to move out of the ripping current’s path, we were both soaked by the unexpected wave. Startled I scrambled for my bikini as it drifted past me before the surf took it out to sea.

  “Shit,” he murmured as we both leapt forward to save what was left of our beach site.

  He cleared his throat and reached for the drenched blanket and the
sunscreen. Stuffing them in the bag, he turned toward me. I was busy refastening my suit.

  “Why don’t we find another beach? It looks like this one is going to wash away soon. I’ll load this stuff on the boat and we can find another spot.”

  “No.” I snatched the blanket out of the bag and tried to wring some of the water out of it. “I think we should go back.”

  I was instantly sorry I had snapped at Blake, but the shock of the wave seemed to whip me back into reality and back into control of my hormones. I had almost had sex on the beach. In broad daylight like an irresponsible eighteen-year-old girl. What in holy hell was wrong with me?

  14

  Blake

  We loaded the remainder of the beach bags and cooler, neither one of us saying anything to the other. I started the small twin power engine and careened the boat back to the docks. With one eye on the nearing horizon, I tried to focus on the boats in the marina and not the ache in my cock.

  I had been seconds from what I wanted. Fucking seconds.

  As soon we reached the pier, I could tell she was pissed. As she walked past me to put her bags on the dock, I could see the frustration in her eyes.

  “Something wrong, darlin’?”

  “No.” She hauled the bags up on her shoulders.

  “You sure? Because you haven’t said one word since the tide interrupted us.”

  “It’s just. I just … I hate being startled. And you know, the whole thing was a surprise to me anyway,” Sierra blurted out.

  “Believe me, if I could control the tides I would.”