DIRTY SECRET Read online

  “You don’t talk about your dad.” I know he passed away a few years ago, but in the time we’ve spent together, he’s never come up. Not even when we talked about my parents.

  “Not a lot of good memories there. The guy was an asshole. Didn’t want to raise a soft kid, so he set the bar for being hard. Lots of consequences if I didn’t perform.”

  Consequences. My stomach turns, but Vaughn just keeps playing with my hair, winding it around his finger and then letting it go.

  “He wanted me to be the best. Made sure I had a reason to see the other kids on the team as competition and not buddies. I never rode with the other kids to the games. Caught hell if he busted me screwing off with them before we played. Couldn’t go over to their houses after the games. Pretty soon they weren’t asking.”

  “That must have been hard.” I can barely say the word. Hard wouldn’t begin to cover it. He would have been a year-round player. Hockey would have been his whole life. I was that kind of player. But while my teammates became the only family I could count on, taking care of me and being there for me when my own parents weren’t, Vaughn’s teammates were the competition.

  “It’s just how it was.” He laughs a little and gives that curl a light tug. “It’s why your brother was such a fucking problem for me. I couldn’t beat him. And damn, that pissed my old man off. Year after year.”

  “I’m sorry, Vaughn.”

  “Don’t be. I was as much of an asshole as he was. I could have been different. Stood up to him. But I didn’t. Not through high school. Not through college. But then I got called up.” He looks into the distance and I wonder what part of that he’s seeing. “I was still acting like a dick, looking at everyone like they were trying to take this thing I’d worked for my whole life away from me. One day Garcia skates up to me, throws his arm around my shoulders like I hadn’t been the world’s biggest prick. He leans in and says, ‘Look around, man. You made it. So let’s play.’ I guess it clicked. He was the first guy I played with that I didn’t see as a threat. And the relief in that—hell, it was a big deal for me. If I’m being honest, the guy probably saved my sanity along with my hockey career.”

  My throat is tight, and I can feel the burn of tears threatening behind my eyes. “He’s your friend.”

  He nods and, leaning forward, starts pulling out more pictures. “One of the few.”

  Chapter 15

  Vaughn

  We slam into the boards, fighting for the puck in a clash of sticks, pads, and sheer fucking will. The fans are losing their minds because this isn’t the first time Mikovanic and I have mixed it up tonight, and with every scuffle, it gets more intense. We both want it. Bad. But I get possession and fire off a pass to O’Brian, shoving clear.

  Mik is on me fast, but I’m faster. My quads burn as I give everything I have and a second later I’m there, intercepting O’Brian’s return with a one-timer aimed at the six-inch gap making up the path to the net. Their goalie is good, but he’s not fast enough and we score.

  Satisfaction burns through my veins. My fist pumps and everything fades except the rush and the one face in the crowd I care about.

  Allie.

  She’s on her feet, jumping up and down like a lunatic. For me. I crack a grin she won’t be able to see past my mouthguard, but it’s there and it’s for her. O’Brian and Popov collide with me, clapping my helmet and back and then falling into line as I pass the bench, knocking gloves with everyone.

  Her smile is wide. And it feels like the only thing that matters.

  It feels like fucking everything.

  Five minutes later we’ve got another win. We’re that much closer to making the playoffs.

  The guys are jacked in the locker room because this was the best kind of win. One we had to work like hell for. It could have gone either way at any point in the game. But at every turn, we pulled it out.

  I get to my phone and see texts from Travis telling me he got wood watching that last play and he’d bet his left nut all the guys over in Oregon did too. He wants to meet with me this week. There’s more but I’ll read it later. Now I’m scrolling through the texts my girl sent during the game, laughing at her blow-by-blow accounts of action I was a part of on the ice and then checking over my shoulder and shielding the screen when I get toward the end.

  Allie: That shot was insane—there couldn’t have been more than an inch give on either side!

  Allie: I am so hot for you right now. The dirty things running through my head would make you blush.

  Holy shit, I want to know what she’s thinking. I want details. But all I’ve got is my own imagination running off the rails with dirty images of all the things I’m going to do to her.

  Allie: There is no way I’m going to be able to make it through an hour at the bar without ripping your clothes off and jumping you in front of everyone. Go, have fun. Then meet me after.

  Fuck the bar. The only reason I show up is to see her.

  Me: That shot earned me clothes-ripping points, huh?

  Allie: We’re talking a buttons-everywhere, shirt-in-tatters level event. Maybe switch out the suit for something you don’t care about before you come over.

  Jesus, I need to adjust my jock.

  Me: This suit needs to be replaced anyway. The only thing I care about is celebrating with you.

  Two meaty paws land on my shoulders and then I’ve got O’Brian hanging off my back like a fucking monkey. A two hundred-plus-pound monkey with lightning-fast reflexes and two assists from tonight’s game.

  “We’re gonna be beating the babes off tonight, man. Every piece at the Five Hole is going to be lining up with knee pads and ChapStick just begging for the chance to get on our junk.”

  I can feel my junk doing a retreat at the thought. There’s only one ChapStick girl I’m interested in, and it’s got nothing to do with her getting on her knees. Though damn, now that I’m thinking about it—don’t think about it. Not here. Not with her fucking brother less than ten feet away.

  “Sorry, man,” I say, shaking him off my back. “I gotta bail.”

  Head rocked back, he blows out a long breath. “Dude, you don’t get it. What happened tonight was magic.” He leans in closer, wrapping his arms around me from behind, and croons, “Tell me you felt it too.”

  I laugh, shrugging him off again to pull on my shirt. “Yeah, I felt it.”

  It wasn’t like it used to be with Garcia. Not really. Though, if I’m being honest, it was pretty close. Different, but not really less.

  It felt fucking good.

  “That’s what I’m talking about. We’re a team. Together we are greater than the sum of our parts, man. That goes for on the ice and off. Hell, after that play tonight, the girls would do anything if we were together. Anything.”

  I turn around, lining up my tie, and hell, the hope and desperation in this guy’s eyes is priceless. “Has it occurred to you that maybe this kind of talk is why you can’t get a normal girl to date you?”

  “Oh, yeah. But still. Think about it. Anything.”

  And now I’m really laughing. “Quinn, I don’t want to think about whatever fucked-up kinky shit you think you can’t get a bunny to do for you on any given Tuesday. Especially if it’s exclusive to me being a part of the deal.”

  He blinks at me and for a second, I think he might be about to pull me in for a kiss or something, because I don’t even know what that gleam in his eyes is.

  “You called me Quinn,” he says like some chick hearing the L-word for the first time. I almost feel bad for backing out on the bar tonight, not because I’d be interested in anything with anyone but my girl. But because this feels good.

  From across the locker room Baxter covers one ear, holding his phone up to the other. “Nat! What do you mean you aren’t coming? Rux promised to shower and everything.”

  I turn back to suit up, buttoning my jacket as I fight the grin pushing at my lips. Ruxton Meyers and a couple other guys are making a bunch of disappointed noises befo
re Greg shushes them. “Damn, you need a ride?… Uh-huh, yeah, thanks, Goon… Okay, feel better.”

  I grab my gear and sling it over my shoulder. I turn to wish O’Brian good luck tonight, but instead of the goofy dumbass crawling all over me from a minute ago, I find all humor gone as the guy’s eyes shift from Baxter back to me.

  Fuck.

  Yeah, and that’s guilt chewing up my stomach as the guy walks back to his stall without another word. It sticks with me through my slot with the press and Baxter slapping me on the shoulder with a “Good game tonight” he looks like he actually means. It stays with me all the way to my car when I get the next text.

  Allie: Want you inside me. Going crazy thinking about it.

  And like that it’s gone and the only thing I’m thinking is how bad I need her.

  Natalie

  I don’t know what’s different tonight, but by the time Vaughn texts that he’s here, I’m practically shaking. I want his arms around me. His mouth on my neck. His heart pounding against mine.

  I want to hear the gruff way he says my name when he knows I’m about to come and I want—I want him.

  Standing by the couch so my bare legs can’t be seen from the street, I wait as Vaughn lets himself in. He looks me over from head to toe and back again and lets out a low growl that sends a deep throb through my center.

  “Baby, you didn’t.” He takes a step forward, stops, and wipes his hand over his mouth as raw hunger burns in his eyes. “Christ, you did.”

  “You like?” I ask a little breathlessly, turning around and peering over my shoulder at him.

  That growl of appreciation I enjoyed so much when he walked through the door has nothing on the possessive sound he makes when he reads his name across the back of the Slayers jersey I’m wearing for him. “I wish I could have worn this to the game, but if it makes you feel any better… I did wear these.” With one arm braced on the back of the couch, I bend forward in a tease, inching the hem of my jersey high enough to show off the results from my deep dive into Etsy.

  His eyes zero in on the white cotton panties with his number across the ass.

  That whole buttons-everywhere thing happens before I can even blink. Only it’s Vaughn tearing his shirt open in the span of the two steps it takes to catch me up against him by banding his powerful arms across my belly. I squeak as he buries his face in the crook of my neck and groans against my skin. “Baby, I like it so fucking much.”

  Sliding one hand down my leg, he grips the back of my thigh and brings my knee out to the side to rest on the back of the couch. He sinks to his knees behind me and rubs his cheek across the embroidered numbers as his big palms coast over the backs of my legs. “I love it.”

  Then it’s his hands on my ass, gripping and kneading, and his mouth on my thigh, his tongue running wet, slick circles against my bare skin that have me shuddering and pressing back into each kiss. Aching for more, for higher, for deeper.

  “Vaughn, I need you,” I whimper when he licks a teasing trail up to the edge of my panties and presses a gentle bite over the skin there. My inner muscles clench and then clench again when his mouth moves between my legs where I’m soaked for him.

  “So sweet, Allie.” Hooking a finger inside, he pulls the panel out of the way and licks into me. “Can’t get enough of you.” He spears me with his tongue, slow and firm, his fingers digging into my hips. And when I clamp down around him, he moans against my most sensitive spot.

  It’s more than I can take. Not enough of what I need.

  With a desperate cry, I turn and pull him to stand. And then he’s kissing the life out of me, feeding me the taste of myself as I thread my fingers into the thick silk of his hair. We’re out of control, hands everywhere, tongues clashing, bodies grinding in search of more contact. Hearts pounding hard together.

  “This,” I gasp against his mouth, emotion I can’t explain surging through me. “This is what I need.”

  Pulling back, he meets my eyes, looks down at my mouth and shakes his head. “You’re what I need.”

  I swallow past the knot in my throat. Because yes.

  Our eyes hold a second longer and then we come together in a crush of lips, teeth, and tongues. It’s like whatever happened in the course of that one look ratcheted the urgency between us to critical levels.

  He’s got my knee at his hip, and we’re grinding against each other like teenagers. I rock my hips so we line up just right and— “Oh my God! Like that, like that… please.”

  Giving me another dark growl and the thrust of his steely cock against my clit, he has me teetering on the brink.

  And then falling over with a yelp, because I’ve literally tipped over the back of the couch onto the cushions. Vaughn doesn’t miss a beat, following me over so he lands between my legs and grinds against that perfect spot.

  With one arm planted beside my head, he grips the arm of the couch with the other, giving himself exactly the leverage to make my head spin.

  “More,” I gasp, biting at his lips and then moaning around the deep thrust of his tongue into my mouth. So good. “Harder.”

  “Fuck, baby, you’re killing me,” he grits out, but he gives me exactly what I’m begging for. Rocking into me hard enough that the couch starts to move, bumping into the end table behind it. A framed picture topples and the remote clatters to the floor.

  We laugh into each other’s mouths, and everything slows down. Like maybe neither one of us wants to rush past what feels to me like a truly perfect moment.

  Sliding my fingers into the dark waves falling around both our faces, I whisper, “Okay, so maybe this is what I need.”

  There’s another thud behind me and Vaughn’s head comes up, a question in his eyes. But I don’t have the brain power to figure out what else fell or how.

  Except that sound wasn’t really behind me so much as over by the—

  “You’re a fucking dead man!” Greg’s voice booms from the general proximity of the front door.

  Chapter 16

  Natalie

  Greg is going to kill him.

  Vaughn closes his eyes, his muttered “fuck” barely audible beneath my brother’s storming threats. He’s backing off me, but not fast enough.

  From the slice of space between the side of the couch and the big body still on top of me, I catch the flash of my brother’s fist as it connects with Vaughn’s cheekbone.

  “No!” I scream, struggling to get up, but Vaughn barely flinches, taking the hit in stride.

  His big hand centers on my chest, gently holding me in place. “Don’t worry,” he says. “We’ll work this out. Stay here.”

  Another fist flies, but Vaughn shifts back, shooting Greg a lethal glare. “Give me a second to get up so we don’t hurt—”

  “So you can get off my sister, you motherfucker?” The sound that comes out of my brother’s throat is like something I’ve never heard before, and it terrifies me. “Get off my goddammed little sister!”

  “Greg, stop!”

  Again, I try to get up, but Vaughn shoots me a warning look as he stands, facing off with my brother. “Stay on the couch, everything’s going to be fine.”

  Greg laughs, sounding more like a lunatic than the loveable laid-back guy he is 95% of the time. “The fuck it is. First, I’m gonna beat the living hell out of you. And then I’m gonna get on the phone with Coach and your ass is gone. Attacking my sister? There’s no fucking coming back from this one. No team in the league will touch you. You’re done.”

  I gasp. “He didn’t attack me, you idiot!”

  He points a finger at me. “Nat, so help me, not now.”

  “It’s not what it looks like, Baxter. Just take a breath and let me explain.”

  Greg’s jaw clenches hard enough I can hear his molars pop. “Not one word.” He grabs the open sides of Vaughn’s torn shirt. “You don’t say one fucking word about her, about this.”

  I scramble from my seat and two sets of angry eyes cut to me as both men speak in unison
. “Stay back.”

  I take a staggering step toward the corner with the TV.

  Vaughn’s fists are balled at his sides, but even after Greg threw the first punch, this man who lives to fight with my brother hasn’t laid a hand on him. Yet. It’s because of me, but everyone has a limit. And Greg has nothing holding him back and a righteous sense of indignation pushing him forward. It’s a powder keg of testosterone in here and the air practically crackles with aggression. I know the kind of damage these two could do to each other, and inadvertently, anyone caught in the blast radius.

  “Okay, I’m back. But Greg, let him go and let me explain.”

  Greg doesn’t even look at me when he answers. “Probably safer for this fucker if you don’t.”

  Vaughn scoffs, blowing out a disgusted breath. “Baxter, this isn’t about you. In fact, it’s none of your goddammed business. So why don’t you get your hands off me and back the fuck up.”

  “Make me.” The pure menace in his voice makes me sick. These men are too close of a match. They’re too tough to go down easy, too big to think the damage won’t be significant, and too stubborn to just let it go.

  “Should I?” The smirk on Vaughn’s face is nothing like the one he gives to me… it’s backed up by fifteen years’ worth of bottled aggression just waiting for release. And right now, he’s got the perfect opportunity to let it loose.

  Greg gets within an inch of his face and roars, “My fucking sister!”

  Regret replaces the brewing violence in Vaughn’s eyes, and when Greg’s fist comes back again, he doesn’t even move. A scream breaks free of my lungs as another brutal punch lands on Vaughn’s face. But again, all he does is give a small shake of his head.

  Greg’s nostrils flare with every breath, the look in his eyes wild. “There are rules, asshole! There are lines you don’t cross. I know you don’t like me and the feeling is mutual, but we’re on the same fucking team and you do this?”