Blitz: A Secret Baby Sports Romance Series (Books 1-5)

by S. J. Bishop

Bryant laughed and caressed my arms, making me gag. I pushed his fingertips off me. "I'm just trying to get you to lighten up," he said. "What the hell is the matter with you anyway? What? Are you pregnant or something?"

  A fierce blush rose in my cheeks. Bryant saw it, and his eyes widened. "No way."

  I nodded. "Remember that night at the Tomcats party? That's what I've been trying to tell you."

  "Whoa! You're saying it's mine?"

  "Yeah, I—"

  "Get the fuck away from me, you crazy slut!" Bryant yelled. He turned to leave. That was fast. Two full seconds, and he was ready to ditch me. I reached out, trying to stop him.

  "Bryant, wait." My hands were on his shoulders. He turned around and pushed me into the table with the punch bowl. Several glasses fell to the ground, shattering. People started to stare.

  "Stay the hell away from me!"

  "Bryant, please," I said, tears filling my eyes. I reached for him again, and this time his hand flew back as if to slap me. Jackson jumped between us, grabbing Bryant's arm and twisting it behind his back in one quick flash. Bryant twisted out of Jackson's grip almost as fast as Jackson had put him in it.

  "Jackson!" I shouted. He turned and looked at me just as Bryant's fist landed squarely on his jaw.

  20

  Jackson

  Carter grabbed me from behind. Zach grabbed Bryant. They pulled us apart, and rather than get back into it, I decided that I'd been at the party long enough and took off for my Porsche. Heels clacked behind me, and when I turned, I saw Emma running after me. She threw her arms around me, shocking the hell out of me.

  "Are you okay?" she asked.

  "Yeah," I said, confused. "You're not mad at me?"

  "Mad?" she yelled. "Why the fuck would I be mad at you? That asshole pushed me! He would've hit me if you hadn't stopped him."

  "What were you two fighting about anyway?"

  She hesitated, and I could tell she didn't want to tell me. "Whether or not Gatorade is a soft drink," she said.

  I grinned, flinching as my mouth turned up at the corners. "You're bleeding," Emma said. Suddenly, she took my hand. "Come on. Where's your Porsche?"

  "This way," I said, pointing. I let her pull me along, enjoying the warmth of her hand in mine. She actually looked worried about me.

  "Alright," she said when we were in my car. "Let's go."

  "Where to?"

  "Your place," she said, exasperated. "I've gotta patch you up. You're a bloody mess."

  Shit, if she wanted to come back to my place, I wasn't gonna say no. Maybe I was her new hero after decking that sonofabitch. He should never have touched her like that while I was around. He was lucky I hadn't killed him.

  The second we were in my house, Emma was pulling me into the bathroom and pushing me onto the edge of the tub. "Sit," she commanded. She was awfully cute when she was all riled up, and I couldn't stop myself from caressing her leg while she worked on cleaning my abrasions. She pushed my hand away.

  "You have a soft touch," I told her. "It barely hurts."

  "Thanks," she said. "I have a lot of practice."

  "Oh yeah? Were you a field nurse in your former life?" I joked.

  "No," she said, smiling down at me. Her tits were right there in front of me, like two melons waiting to be squeezed. It took every ounce of strength I had not to touch them.

  "Actually," Emma said, sighing heavily, "my mom was sick for a while before she died. I got used to taking care of her. Changing her bandages, giving her injections, things like that."

  "Oh, I'm sorry." I'd been thinking of Keith and Emma as two tough-as-nails negotiators and nothing more. It had never occurred to me that maybe something had happened to make them as tough as they were.

  "Can I ask how she died?"

  Emma paused. "She had a rare form of diabetes—maturity-onset diabetes. It's caused by a mutation in one of your genes. Her mother had it, too. It's one of those things that likes to get passed along to your kids. First, she got really sick, then she started having neuropathic problems, until finally, she just sort of wasted away."

  "Oh God, Emma, I'm sorry."

  "It’s been several years ago now."

  "I've never even heard of mat…"

  "Maturity-onset diabetes. Not many people have. That's part of the problem. By the time they realized what she had, it was already too late."

  I couldn't stop picturing Emma at her mother's bedside, injecting her with insulin as she tried to keep her alive. "You said it runs in families. Do you...?"

  "No." She shook her head and relief swelled in me. "I was tested when they realized what was going on with her. I'm clean, but if I ever have kids-"

  She paused, her face going white.

  "Emma?" She seemed lost in thought. "Emma?"

  "Oh," she said, snapping out of it. "Sorry, I just... I was just thinking." She took a deep breath, and I could feel her sweet scent blow against my skin like wind on a treetop. "Well, I think you're all good to go," she said, patting my shoulders.

  "Thanks," I said, standing up. I leaned into her, my lips an inch from hers before she pushed me away.

  "I don't think so," she said, laughing. "I'm giving you a pass tonight since you came to my rescue, but next time you try that, I'll punch you myself."

  I smirked, watching her ass appreciatively as she walked away from me. "I’d better go," she said. It felt like a balloon popped inside me as she headed for the door.

  "You don't have to go," I said. "I'll be good. Come on, hang out a while. There's an old John Wayne movie on TV in an hour."

  "I love John Wayne," she said, hesitating.

  "Stay, then," I said. "I'll make popcorn." I was still thinking that if I could just get her alone for a while longer, maybe I could... but then again, it wasn't just that I wanted to get Emma into bed, I realized now. I'd learned something new about her this evening, and I was anxious to learn more.

  Maybe the problem was that I kept taking from her and never giving anything back. I hesitated before speaking. "You know, I had a brother who died when I was really young. I don't talk about it a lot because I don't really remember him. I've seen pictures, but I was only one when he got hit by the car. My parents never recovered from it."

  "Oh God, that's awful! I'm so sorry." Her hand reached out and stroked my arm. It was smooth and warm and made my heart flutter.

  "We lost our house and had to move into my uncle's shack." I laughed at the memory of our tiny bedroom. "I shared one room with four cousins. All older than me. That's how I got so good at football. I was always having to outrun them or put up a fight."

  "That sounds terrible."

  "It was. But I guess my point is, sometimes the things that hurt the most are what make us the strongest."

  She stared at me with those dazzling blue eyes of hers. "Okay," she finally said. "Popcorn and John Wayne. Then I go home."

  "Deal," I said.

  Two hours later, John Wayne was over, and the popcorn bowl was empty. I laughed as Emma snored lightly against my shoulder. I lifted her gently from the couch and carried her to my room, tucking her into bed with her clothes still on. I watched her sleep a moment, feeling light-headed and warm in a way I'd never felt before. There was something about Emma that made me feel safe. She was like my security blanket. I kissed her cheek before grabbing a pillow and heading back to the couch.

  21

  Emma

  I woke up, for the second time this week, in Jackson's bed. This time, no alarm blared. The mattress beside me was empty and cold. Had Jackson ever come to bed? I sat up and found I was still in my clothes, though my shoes had been removed. I wiggled my toes, which had started to fall asleep, before getting out of bed and going to find Jackson.

  I could smell coffee brewing and followed the warm scent to Jackson's kitchen, where he had a radio playing softly as he bounced to some classic rock. "Hey!" he said when he saw me. "Good morning! I hope I didn't wake you."

  He leaned in toward me, kissing my cheek
. I almost flinched before I realized that was all he was doing. No tongue. No reaching for my tits. He handed me a cup of coffee and smiled at me. It was his real smile again. Not the million-watt one reserved for outsiders.

  "Thanks," I said, sipping on the hot, dark liquid. It ran down my throat, heating me from the inside out.

  "Have a seat," he said, indicating a stool at his breakfast bar. "Hungry? How do you like your eggs?"

  "Over easy," I said. I couldn't shake the feeling that this was all a setup. Jackson was acting like a perfect gentleman. This wasn't the same Jackson who had been chasing after me since that first night at the Tomcats party. He was acting more like... he was into me. Not just into my pants, but me.

  "How'd you sleep last night?" I asked. "Where'd you sleep?"

  He laughed. The sound was like sweet harmony to my ears. My heart picked up the beat and began to drum along with it. It was too early for me to feel so frisky, yet the more Jackson talked, the hotter I felt myself getting. There was something very sensuous about the huskiness of his voice so early in the day. He was dressed in cutoffs and a thin, short-sleeved shirt that clung to his muscles like it was part of his skin. I could see the definition in his biceps every time he cracked a fucking egg. God, he was gorgeous.

  "Don't worry," he said. "I slept on the couch."

  The couch? This was the first time I'd spent the night alone in a man's bed. I didn't know what to make of it. "You didn't have to do that," I said, though I was deeply impressed that he'd been able to control himself. He was acting like a real man, not some horn dog adolescent. My stomach got queasy when I took another sip of coffee, so I set it aside.

  "More sugar?" Jackson asked, noting that I'd pushed the mug away.

  "No, thanks," I shook my head. "I'm just not feeling very well right now, that's all."

  "It's probably 'cause your stomach's empty. You didn't eat much except for popcorn last night. My mom always said if you didn't start your day with a hearty breakfast you were bound to feel like shit. Of course, for us, a hearty breakfast was usually a bowl of cereal."

  "No bacon?" I asked. "I thought all growing boys could eat their weight in bacon."

  He smiled back at me as he fried some eggs. Several slices of bacon sizzled in a second frying pan next to them. He poured me a glass of orange juice as the smells of the food began to take hold of me. "We didn't have the money for bacon," he said. "Most days, we were lucky we could afford the cereal. Especially with my shithead cousins eating up whatever we bought."

  My smile fell off my face. What the hell was going on here? Jackson was opening up to me. For some reason, it made me nervous. Maybe because I wasn't being as open with him.

  Last night, after a few initial attempts to get into my pants, Jackson had left me alone on the couch while we watched John Wayne save a town from the evil sheriff threatening to destroy them. Our hands kept touching in the popcorn bowl, and every time they did, we both blushed. It was ridiculous. Just the other day, Jackson had his head buried in my pussy, and now we were blushing like teenagers on our first date.

  At some point, I guess I'd fallen asleep. I remembered growing tired and leaning my head against Jackson's shoulder. He'd taken my hand in his, and I'd felt safe. The next thing I knew, it was morning and Jackson was cooking me eggs.

  "Here you go," he said, setting a plate in front of me. Suddenly, my queasiness turned to ravishing hunger. I gobbled the eggs, bacon, and toast down like I'd been shipwrecked on a deserted island for the last month.

  "More?" he asked, amused, brushing his thumb over my chin to wipe away a piece of food that had gotten stuck there. I felt myself wanting to blush and forced my cheeks to remain a neutral cream color. It seemed I was doing way too much blushing around Jackson lately.

  "Yes, please," I said.

  "I don't know how you keep your weight down with an appetite like that," he said. "Do you work out?"

  "Yeah," I lied. Guilt was starting to bleed into my heart, suffocating me. It had been easy to omit the truth of my pregnancy from Jackson when he was just another football player trying to nail me, but the longer I sat here, the more obvious it became that we were past that stage in our relationship. He was definitely moving on from belt notch to girlfriend.

  Girlfriend? No. That couldn't be right. Jackson didn't have girlfriends. Everybody knew that. Yet here he was, cooking me breakfast and talking to me like I was someone important. Not just another one-night stand. Fuck. If I told him I was pregnant now, he would freak out. Especially if I told him that Bryant was the father. But if I waited any longer, I would only make things worse. Each minute that ticked by was like a fucking time bomb waiting to explode.

  Oh my God. If I was considering telling Jackson the truth when I hadn't even told Sara yet... that meant I liked him! That meant I really liked him. Why did the first guy I fell hard for turn out to be Jackson fucking Vega? And if I'd fallen so hard, how could I not tell him the truth?

  "Here you go," Jackson said, placing a fresh plate of food in front of me. Suddenly, I wasn't hungry anymore.

  "Jackson," I said, my throat going as dry as a desert. "There's something I need to tell you."

  22

  Jackson

  Emma came down the stairs, and my heart rate skyrocketed. How could she look so damned good so early in the morning? I couldn't believe she'd spent the night in my bed without me. What the fuck was the matter with me, anyway? If I'd tried a little harder, I probably could have nailed her last night.

  Still, in some ways, the talk we'd had was better than sex—though I'd never admit that to anyone. Emma was actually interesting. She was more than just another floozy looking to nail a superstar athlete. Guys were always getting accused of wanting to add another notch to their belts, but in my experience, the girls that hung around those types of guys were looking for the same thing.

  She wolfed down her food, and I couldn't help but laugh. Egg stuck to her chin, and I wiped it away. I'd already eaten, but I felt my appetite grow again as I watched her. Emma stared at me with those liquid blue eyes that dug into me, unearthing feelings I'd never experienced before.

  "Jackson, there's something I need to tell you."

  I held up one hand. This morning was too special to talk about contract negotiations. This was my first time letting a woman spend the night in my bed without me. Cooking her breakfast was another first.

  "There's no point talking about the contract now," I told her. Her eyes stretched open, and she stared at me uncertainly. "Everything's on hold pending the outcome of my meeting with the Association. I can't even sign with Florida now if I wanted. That little skirmish on the field with Bryant yesterday really fucked things up."

  "They could just fine you again if they wanted," Emma said. I knew she was trying to make me feel better, but it wasn't working.

  "Yeah, but I have the feeling it's gonna be more than that."

  "Suspension?"

  I nodded. "Look, it's too early to talk about this shit. What do you say we go outside? The sun's coming up. We can watch the sunrise."

  "Since when did you become such a romantic?" she teased.

  "Since I met you," I told her, quite honestly.

  I didn't know exactly when it had happened, but it was like a light had been turned on inside me and I couldn't turn it off again. I took her hand in mine. It melted into my skin. The heat between us was too strong to deny. I led her out onto the deck that went down to the pool. The sun was just coming up, turning the sky deep shades of pink and red. We sat on one of the outdoor couches I had set up for parties, watching the sky brighten slowly as the day began. It felt like we were the only two people in the world right now. It was a comforting thought because it meant that nothing else mattered.

  She buried her head against my chest, kissing it lightly with her perfect mouth. Even through the fabric of my shirt, I could feel how soft her lips were. Like two petals brushing against me. Suddenly, her shoulders tensed. I looked down and saw her eyes drift away f
rom the sunrise, staring off into the distance but not taking anything in.

  "What's wrong?" I asked. Her hair smelled like rain. I buried my head in it, inhaling deeply. My body began to itch, and that familiar feeling of lust began to take over. My cock stiffened under my shorts.

  "What are you gonna do if you're not suspended?" she asked.

  "Emma, please," I said, stroking her arm. She didn't stop me. "Let's not talk business right now."

  "This isn't business," she said.

  "Then what is it?"

  She hesitated. "This is me asking you what you intend to do. Not as someone you're negotiating with, but as someone you're sleeping with."

  I paused, wondering if I could pussyfoot my way out of this. "That implies we're still having sex," I told her. "Last time I checked, you were threatening to jam your heel up my ass if I touched you again."

  She laughed and reached out one hand, placing it over the bulge in my pants. "That was before," she said.

  "Before what?" I asked, my body tingling all over. My cock was growing uncomfortable in my pants as it hardened. If I didn't get out of them soon, I was gonna hurt myself.

  "Before you showed me I was more than just another notch in your belt," she purred. Her eyes blazed with desire. "So, what do you intend to do? Stay or go?"

  "Fuck, Emma, I don't know. I can't think clearly with your hand on my cock." My breath rushed in and out of my lungs faster the harder she stroked me. "What do you want me to do?" I asked.

  "Stay in San Francisco," she said.

  I could feel my blood pulse in my veins. My head began to swim.

  "Why?" I asked her, breathless.

  "Because I'm in San Francisco."

  That was it. I couldn't think anymore. The blood in my head was getting used up by the massive hard-on that was busting to get free. "I can't make any promises," I told her. "But I'll think about it." Then I pressed my lips to hers.