Dirty Game:A Secret Baby Sports Romance(8)

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.

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.