Igniting the Wild Sparks, Book 3

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Chapter 11


My damn heart stops.

We both freeze, and just as fast, I regret telling her.

What the fuck did I just do? I never thought I’d tell Becks this. I’ve successfully kept it from her since that day in the park three years ago. I tell her repeatedly when she’s unconscious but damn it. Those words are sacred to me.

I remain motionless, freaking out because I’m unsure of what I should do or say. Yet, I’ve said more than enough.


Still next to her ear, I stiffly ask, “What?” Maybe she didn’t hear me. Shit. Like that would happen.

She excitedly whispers, “Tell me again.” Damn it.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I coolly say, “You heard me, Becks.” Hoping she’ll let it go, I slowly thrust to regain momentum, but my mind is spinning. I can’t focus anymore.

“Are you okay?”

Sighing and hanging my head over her, I morosely admit, “I don’t know.” Moving back, I debate whether to keep trying or give up since I’m going soft, anyway. But when I try to pull out of her, she grips my shoulders, stopping me.

Becks’s eyes shine in the moonlight, and her hair sweeps her pillow as she slowly shakes her head. “You’re not done.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“Come on, baby,” she encourages. “You need to let go.” Biting her lip, she unsteadily moves her hips up and down, and it ignites me, not from the action, but because she’s injured and still trying to get me off. The determined look on her face is sexy.

Forgetting my world-rocking admission, I blow out a breath as I harden inside her again. “Fuck. You’re unbelievable.” Balancing myself over Becks, I kiss her, my tongue invading her mouth, until I solidly thrust into her, and I quickly pick up where I left off.

But suddenly, awareness strikes me, and I pull back both my assailing tongue and dick. “Wait. Am I hurting you?”

“No. Shut up and concentrate.” She tries again to lift her hips to mine, but not wanting her to hurt herself more, I use my weight to pin her with my cock. All she needs to do is keep her legs apart as I screw her. Becks’s eyes widen, and she opens her mouth to protest, but I stop her by forcing my tongue between her lips. This is what I needed with her. I told her the truth. I fucking can’t get enough of Becks. She’s my drug. My air. My heart. My soul. My life.

Having sex with her again, I’m wound up and greedily drive into her, amid the squeaking bedsprings as our background music. I’m probably too enthusiastic, fucking, but I can’t stop. Now, I’m the one possessed.

Panting as I hungrily fuck Becks and feeling the soaring high approaching, I loudly groan and warn, “Baby, I’m coming.”

“I’m all yours, Finnigan. Come inside my pussy. I want all of you.”

Her plea does it for me, and I savagely growl as I rush deep into her like a fucking freight train, delivering the part of me that is only for Becks. Sometimes. I’m positive she’s aware I’m fucking her without protection again, but being without her for three weeks, I don’t care. I’ll risk it because I love her that much.

Yes, and the extent of my love includes wanting to be her husband. More than anything. I just don’t know if I can take that risk. A baby could conceivably be a gain for us, yet a marriage would probably be the end of us.

Becks cries out again as her pussy grips me like a vice, and I’m rather proud of myself for fucking her into multiple orgasms. “Finn. Fuck me. Don’t stop.”

I don’t stop, and she cries out more as her pussy again strangles my retreating erection. I close my eyes and breathlessly utter, “Fuck, Becks. Baby.”

She’s right. Our sex gets better every damn time.

Becks squeezes her arms around me, catching her breath and whispers, “Wow. Where in the hell did that come from?”

“I missed you. But I never want to seriously miss you that much again.”

She smiles. “Sparks, I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I readily whisper back. Forgetting my predicament, I smile back at her. Those plump lips, gorgeous green eyes, and her silky light brown hair spellbind me. She’s so beautiful. I could stare at her all day, but it’s not a crazy infatuation. I would die for Hadley Beckett.

Careful not to put my weight on her stomach, I lower my head and kiss her inviting, soft lips meant just for me. Her hands go to my chest, jerking on my T-shirt, and then pulling on my necklace chain. Not breaking our kiss, I reach up and hold her hand, holding my key.

I could have lost her today. Sports injuries have killed people from internal bleeding. I like taking risks but not when it involves Becks. We’re both lucky I showed up, or she would’ve shrugged it off and gone home, possibly bleeding to death.

Eventually, hauling my lips from hers, I stroke the top of her head as I hesitantly ask, “Are you okay?” I’m not sure what kind of answer she’ll give after my dark confession, and because I fucked her like a jackhammer amped on crack. I’m an asshole.

She woodenly nods, wide-eyed. I’m suddenly nervous. I don’t fucking do nervous. It’s for pussies. However, I admit I was anxious, asking her out, kissing her the first time, and recently waiting for her period.

I clear my throat and lift up my body as her persistent gaze follows me. The worst part of having sex with her is losing the closeness, but I can’t help it. Becks is quiet as she watches me cautiously pull out, not wanting to hurt her, but a little late with my newly acquired self-control.

Not knowing what to say, I move off her, kneeling between her legs and throwing a hand into my hair. “Can I get you anything? A drink? Something to eat? Tylenol? Ice for your stomach?” Restraint for your dickwad boyfriend?

“No. I’m good.” I nod and focus on the headboard, searching for the words to say to mitigate the ones I blabbed earlier. Will she tell everyone we’re engaged? Are we engaged? What would that mean? Does she think I want to marry her this minute?

This will change us. Somehow.

How do I not break her heart?

How does this not break mine?

Interrupting my imminent nervous breakdown, she asks, “You’re not leaving now, are you?”

I reluctantly look at her. “No. Why?”

“Because you’re panicking.” Fuck. Am I that transparent?

Roughing up my hair as I contemplate an answer, my gaze falls between her legs, and the distant stir of another hard-on innately churns, having no control of my dick, and apparently, the words that fall out of my mouth.

“Why do you say that?” I tear my eyes away from her pussy, so I don’t lose my willpower.

“From the terrified look on your face after confessing your deepest, darkest secret, Sparks. That took courage, and it must’ve hurt.” Her expression teeters on the edge of elation. That shreds me.

Ashamed that I got her hopes up, I blandly shake my head. “Not for the reason you think.”

Seeing her initial, tentative smile wavering, I hear her heart breaking. I look down to my knees, and she asks, “Why? Are you mocking me now?”

Becks’s smile disappears, and she quietly blinks at me. I say, “No, baby. I’m not.” Uncertain of what to do, I crawl to lie down next to her. When I touch her glowing cheek, my thumb slides over her wet skin, which alarms me. “Why are you crying?”

“Because hearing your secret isn’t what I expected. I’m awestruck.”

“Becks.” Shit.

“Please, tell me again.” I avert my eyes to the sheet between us, not able to speak those words to her more than once. The silence drags until she sniffs. “So, you really didn’t mean it?”

I try to think of the right words, but they all elude me. “Yeah, I did. Wholeheartedly.” I sigh and check the time. “Let’s get some sleep. It’s late.”

“You wanted to talk about last Saturday, and then you told me something I’ve been waiting three years to hear. Why, Finn?”

Now I wish I had opted for Door Number One and kept my damn mouth shut. I lean my head back and stare at the dark ceiling. “It’s complicated, Becks.”

“No, shit. Complicated is your middle name, not Robert.”

“I don’t mean to be.” Frustrated, I rub my hand over my face. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Holding her stomach, she meekly whimpers as she rolls to face me. “You drop that bombshell, but you have nothing to say? Then why did you tell me you want to be my husband, Finn? Or was that an act like pretending to propose?”

I throw my hand up. “I wasn’t… acting.” Shit. Again.

My head falls back, resigned that I’m a fucking dumbass. A tranquilizer dart might shut me the hell up.

“Right.” She rolls to her other side, turning away from me, physically and metaphorically. Am I losing her again? “It’s just like my dream,” she mutters, her body slightly shaking.


“You said you’d never marry me and give me your name and that you don’t love me.”

“Becks, you know I love you. More than you can imagine.”

“You have a sidesplitting way of showing it.”

Shifting, I gingerly drape my arm over her, careful of her stomach, and hug her to me, but she doesn’t respond. I whisper, “I just showed you how much I love you.” Even if it was a warped demonstration. And we possibly created a life together from that love. Another month where I’ll worry if I fathered a child. Somehow, I’ll endure it for my Becks.

When I kiss her neck, she dejectedly mutters, “You fucked me. I spread my legs like the whore you said I am.”

Feeling as if Rodwell just slammed a bowling ball into my stomach, my mouth halts on her neck, mid-kiss. I scowl into her hair before lifting my head. I tug her arm, tipping her, so she’s on her back, and in a rush, I’m in her face, snarling, “You are not a whore. I don’t give a fuck what I said in a nightmare. I would never think that or say that to you. You’re the woman I love and want to be with for the rest of my life.”

She wipes her cheek. “I’m good enough to fuck but not enough to marry.”

“I do want to marry you!”

Holy fuck, Wilder!

Her mouth hangs open, and I stare at the wall, pissed off that I admitted it again. Every time I open my damn mouth, I dig myself in deeper. I’ll be in China at this rate.


The darkness makes it somewhat easier. My eyes roam around her pillow. “If you hadn’t left, I would’ve proposed to you Saturday, but I can aspire to marry you and ask you all I want. I’m committed to you, but my misgivings about the technicalities of marriage still remain the same. I just can’t follow through with it yet. We can get engaged, but…”

Becks says nothing, but her eyes fill with tears.

I’m a fucking jerk.

I swallow as my throat constricts. “You’re so right, and I’m so sorry.”

Becks absently nods and slowly sits up. Following suit, I take hold of her arm to help her. Without looking at me, she asks, “Can you get me Tylenol and a glass of water?”

“Are you in a lot of pain?”

“Some. Just leave them on the nightstand. I’ll try a cool shower.” What hurts her more? Her stomach or my confession?

“Becks, maybe I should take you back to the ER.” I can’t wait to explain to the doctor why she’s in more pain.

“It’s not that bad.” When she stands, she makes a face.

I jump out of bed. “I’ll shower with you in case you need help.” I really know how to help.

She doesn’t hesitate. “No. Go to sleep.” As she makes it to the door, I block her.

“You look pale.” Real good with the compliment, ass.

“I’m good.” She forces a rigid smile, but she hasn’t perfected the art like me. She moves to the side to walk past me, but I grab her wrist.

“Can I have a kiss?”

“Sure.” She looks up at me, but her eyes won’t stay on my face. I bend to meet her lips. However, we barely converge before she’s gone.

I pull on my shorts and walk out to the kitchen. Hearing the shower start, I stop myself from going in there.

I find Tylenol and get her a glass of water. As I walk into the bedroom, I faintly hear coughing. I set the glass on her nightstand and go to the bathroom door. “Becks?”

She doesn’t respond, so I knock, and she answers, “I’m all right.”

“Do you need anything?”

“No. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I’ll stay up until you come to bed.”

“Don’t. I’ll soak and then watch some TV.”

“Baby...” What can I do? Fucking marry her. God, I want to.

“Finn, go to bed.” I debate whether to try the door handle, but I capitulate to her desire for privacy and walk back to her bedroom.

I lie in bed with my hands clasped beneath my head and stare up at the ceiling, waiting for Becks to come to bed. I hear her cough more and worry if I should take her back to the hospital.

I want to be her husband so much it’s progressively turning my life upside down and inside out. It’s all I think about. Will I really lose Becks if I don’t put a ring on her finger? Not just an engagement ring. The real deal. A wedding band.

I steady my breaths to calm my pounding heart. I want to give Becks my name and call her my wife, but I’m afraid the clock will count down the end of us.

I hear the bathroom door open, and I watch Becks slowly walk into the room. The moonlight isn’t as bright, but I see her hair swung over a shoulder, and her arms folded over her stomach. When I kissed her there, I noticed she’s thinner. Is she working out too much? Has she been so stressed that she’s not eating, either? I grab a bite here and there, so I don’t dry heave on camera. Saturday, she didn’t eat much of her dinner, and I doubt she ate tonight after I left for work.

She gets into bed and curls into a fetal position with her back to me. Turning my head, I worriedly ask, “How are you feeling?” I hope she realizes I’m asking how she feels about her gigantic prick of a boyfriend.

Becks quietly replies, “Okay.” She’s lying to me. I touch her back, but she doesn’t move and says nothing. How is she shocked? I thought she took the time to accept my shortcomings, and to comprehend I’m a waffling asshole.

Dropping my hand and sighing, I get out of bed and go to my drawer in Becks’s dresser. I grab some clothes, my small overnight bag and take my turn in the bathroom.

Having rushed with my shower, when I come back to bed, I hear her steady breaths. I deftly move closer, spooning her and carefully weaving our legs together. Lightly running my hand along her hip, I feel more of her weight loss. She doesn’t need to lose any weight. I love her soft curves. Becks is perfect. Since I first laid eyes on her, my cock doesn’t harden for any other woman. I would’ve pursued her hard in high school. I’m positive of that. Hadley Beckett was what was missing from my life then. We were made for only each other.

Moving my mouth to her ear, I softly whisper, “Becks.” When she doesn’t respond, I say, “Baby, please forgive me for not being the man you need. I’m trying. I’m getting closer, but I’m not there yet. I want to give you everything you want. It would undoubtedly kill me if you found someone else. When I’m ready, I want to marry you. I love you to the stars, Becks Wilder.”

As usual with my nighttime conversations with her, she doesn’t answer back. I kiss her neck and lay next to her, and the cadence of her breathing lulls me to sleep.

Soft laughing wakes me. Looking over to Becks’s side, she’s not there. I squint at the clock as I reach for my glasses, and I walk into the hallway. In the living room, she sits against the arm of the couch while talking on the phone. With her arm beneath her bent legs, her unruly hair down her back, and wearing only her underwear and a T-shirt, my girlfriend is sexy as fuck. Again, I question why in the hell she puts up with my bullshit when another man would marry her in a heartbeat? Jared Beckett’s fucking BFF, from what I’ve heard. In his damn dreams.

“No, you don’t hit that great, Rod.” Figures she’s talking to that jackass.

“I was just slow on the uptake.” She was definitely daydreaming.

“Right. That’s what I was thinking.” I can only imagine.

“He’s asleep. We were up late.”

“I knew you would say that.”

“Why would I tell you if we did?” Tell him! I want him to know I fucked her, and she’s dripping with me.

“You wish I told you everything. I keep things to myself.” Not from Morgan.

“He took good care of me.” Damn right, I did.

“Yes, with my clothes on.” Fucker.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just sore from my coworker’s idea of a sick joke.” He’d never do that on purpose. I’d kill him with my bare hands.

“I’m kidding. I know you are. Why are you so mad at yourself?”

“No, just bruises. I couldn’t have died. It was my stomach, not my chest.” Why doesn’t she take this seriously?

“Rod, I’m not. They asked me several times. I announced my period. Remember?” Why is he asking if she’s pregnant? If she had been and miscarried our kid because of him, I would’ve slammed his balls with a softball bat, making damn sure he never procreates.

She looks down at her legs and lowers her voice. “I doubt he would’ve.” Wait. What did I not do?

“I’m serious. He probably would’ve thanked you.” Is she suggesting that I would’ve been happy if our baby was killed? I put her in the outfield when I thought she was pregnant for a reason. I didn’t want anything to happen to her or our child. I’m not fucking heartless. She royally pissed me off when she mentioned a fucking abortion. There’s no way I’d allow her to do that to a life we made together. I would love our kid. I’m just not ready for one. Yet, I can’t stop having sex without a rubber, thus possibly making one with her. What the hell is wrong with me? I know it’s a huge gamble, but fucking her warm and wet pussy, without a barrier between us, I lose my rational thought and don’t give a damn about consequences.

“No, you’re right. I should give him the benefit of the doubt. He is very loving. He’d be a wonderful daddy.” She has that much faith in me? And Rodwell is taking up my defense? Did hell freeze over?

“I’m not crying. I need to go.” I stealthily turn and slip into the bathroom. While I’m in there, I brush my teeth.

When I emerge, Becks is still on the couch, watching TV. I walk into the living room, and she looks up, her eyes wandering over me as I sit down next to her. What did I do?

“What? Are you feeling okay?” She’s still weirdly staring. When I thought she’d be mad and ignore me. Instead, she throws me for a loop.

Her eyelids flutter downward, and she observes her fingers splayed on her raised thighs. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Bowing my head over the floor, I absently grasp my wrist. “Becks, about what I said last night—both things. I shouldn’t have told you.”

“Finn, I’m glad you did. We need to be honest with each other, and you were. I realize you bared your soul to me. I’m grateful you told me the truth.”

“The whole truth?”

She halfheartedly says, “Yeah.”

“Baby, I wish I were ready this second. I’ve already been a massive prick to you.”

A rueful smile approaches her lips as she silently agrees with me. “I agree.” I hate myself for doing this to her. “To be sure, you wouldn’t just marry any woman?”

I frown at her for asking that. She wants me to confess again, but I won’t. I can’t keep hurting her or exposing my crumbling resolve. Brick by brick it’s falling. There are days when I almost whisk her off to Vegas to get married. And then I chicken out.

With her feet propped next to me on the cushion, I massage the top of her foot, hearing her palpable anxiety with her deep breath. I say, “I’m not trying to hurt you. I swear to everything holy I’m not. You’re the last person on Earth I want to hurt, but you’re the first I often do.”

“I’ll make sure you make up for it.”

“And I’ll make sure you make me,” I joke.

“Aren’t you going to Mass?”

“No. I’m staying with you.”

“Finn, we can go together.”

“It’s okay.” Most likely, she’d be uncomfortable sitting, standing, and kneeling so much.

Her eyes fall on my legs. “Do you work today?”

My gaze drops to her dark purple toenails and then between her legs, where she’s flashing me her underwear. I blink and try to look away, but I’m incapable of doing anything else. Fuck, I’m so damn weak. With vivid images of her naked body swirling around in my head and the graphic memories of last night zapping my crotch, my mouth is dry. “No, but I have practice later.”

“I’ll go with you.” Not a chance.

I drag my eyes away from perving on her and sternly state, “No, you won’t.”

“Why can’t I go?”

“Because you won’t sit.”

She suggestively smiles. “Yes, I will. I’ll sit and check you out. Or I’ll sit on your lap.” Definitely not good because I’d unzip and fuck her in front of everyone while roaming my hands over her tits and pussy as I mark my territory from behind.

I proudly smirk. “You think so? Well, you’ll have to wait in line, honey, and it’s a long one.” And I’d turn them all away.

“Cocky much?”

Leaning closer, I lay my left arm across her knees and trail my fingertips along her skin, watching the goosebumps form. Smiling at knowing how to turn my girlfriend on, I whisper, “Yep, but you love it.”

Becks shakily laughs. “I do… sometimes.” Her eyes shimmer and tour me again, and it fucking turns me on, full-throttle. Though, it doesn’t take much for me.

I bend and rest my chin on her left knee. “Baby, you haven’t seen how cocky I can be.” I raise an eyebrow at her, daring her to dare me.

Her mouth falls open at my shamelessness, compelling me to grin. “Is that so, Finn Wilder?”

I shake my head, scraping my chin over her knee. “Nope, you haven’t. Therefore, I dare you to take me on, Becks.” Her eyes pop open more, and she unconsciously licks her lips. She’s right where I want her. On my cock.

Her knee disappears from under my chin when she suddenly moves, and I sit back, laughing at baiting her. Getting on her knees, she hastily straddles me, and my laughter screeches to a halt. Is she really taking on my dare?

As if I’m following her orders, I pull Becks’s T-shirt collar to the side and admire my lipwork on her shoulder before leaning in to graze my teeth over her soft, sweet-scented skin. She moans and digs her fingers into my hair, pulling, which is a major turn-on for me, and she fucking knows it.

Raising my head, I grasp the sides of her face and reel her to my lips, deeply kissing her as she gamely reciprocates. We fall back against the couch, losing ourselves as I push my throbbing dick between her legs. I want her again, but we shouldn’t have even made love last night. That was self-serving of me to do that to her.

I try to stop our kiss, but when I attempt to break away from her, she pushes my head back to her. I mumble into our kiss, “I don’t want to hurt you more.” But her hands drop from my hair and down to my boxers, unleashing me. She grabs my hard dick and steadily primes me. Fuck, it feels so good, but I interrupt our kiss to plead, “Baby, put the brakes on.” I move my hand over hers, but she chases it away.

Kissing my jaw, she teases, “I know you want me. You said I’m the only one who can do this to you.” Her fingers lightly brush the head of my cock, and I gasp, closing my eyes as my head falls back against the couch, pulling her with me. “What’s wrong, Sparks? Am I too much for you to handle?”

Remembering her injury is too much for me, I sit us upright and using a high-pitched voice, horribly imitating her, I ask, “Cocky much?”

Her smile is abnormally smug. “Only with you, because you love a challenge.”

I can’t help grinning. It’s true. Becks knows me so well. “Do I? What dare are you offering now? I’ve met and triumphed over both you’ve thrown at me.” I suppose I didn’t give in to her knock-me-up-now dare at Easter, but that one doesn’t count.

She coyly shakes her head. “This one is extra challenging.” Provoking me into not taking a dare only motivates me more.

Well, then.

Game on, Beckett.

Zoned in on scoring another dare win from Becks, I whisper, “Come on, baby. I dared you to try me.” That would be one dare I’d be happy to lose.

She says, “I’m not good at dares like you.”

Not taking my eyes off hers, I yank on her hips, rubbing my naked erection against her underwear. “Then, I dare you to dare me again.” You can’t resist me, Becks, just as I can’t resist you.

She whispers, “I dare you to not have sex with me.” Huh? What? Oh, shit.

Oh, shit!

Swallowing hard, I try to sound casual, not wanting her to know I’m already struggling. “Well, that one won’t be aired.”

Grinning because she literally has me by the balls, she drops her head and kisses my neck, taking turns with her lips and tongue. My eyes roll back again before closing. I lick my lips as she eagerly moves down the side of my throat. Burrowing my nose into her hair, I quietly say, “That would be an awkward challenge for us in public.” Distracting my hands from grabbing her ass, I stroke her leg with one and pick up her key with the other. Toying with it, I say, “I don’t know how we’d get around the censors.”

She nods and grips my shaft. “Especially with your dick hanging out, Mr. Sportscaster. Your Finnatics would fucking flip.”

“Wow, Becks. Really, what’s gotten into you?” Because it’s not me at the moment. Damn it.

Pulling back, she asks, “Why? Don’t you like me like this?” She slowly licks her bottom lip and stares at my mouth.

I want to stop talking and taste her full, strawberry lips, but then I won’t make it through the dare. “Fuck, yes, I do.”

Her expression hints at her underlying anxiety. “Like what? Slutty?”

I shake my head as I look into her entrancing, green eyes. “No. Brazen. Assertive. It’s sexy, not that you aren’t already the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen in my life.” I drag my thumb over her cheek, and I throb for her. “I mean it, Becks. You’re stunning. You do this to me.” I wrap my hand around hers, holding my hard-on.

She says, “You’re supposed to not have sex with me.” She strokes me as I hold her hand, watching her, watching us slowly jack me off. Leaning forward, but still stroking me, Becks kisses my jaw over to my ear, heavily breathing into it. Oh, no. Helplessly, I match her breaths as she increases her speed.

“That’s not fair,” I wheeze, not wanting to win this dare anymore.

“You’re right.” She abruptly releases me and removes my glasses, tossing them to the end of the couch. Then, she buries her hand into my hair, jerks my head back, and passionately kisses me. If she keeps this up, I will come all over her. Soon.

Shit. Is this payback?

Would she do that? No. Not Becks.

Grabbing my dick, she recommences whipping me into a frenzy. She moves to my ear, and breathlessly asks, “How are you holding up, Wilder?” Not good. I’m readying my concession speech.

Between hard breaths, I say, “I’d be better if you stop jerking me off.” No, I wouldn’t. I’d have blue balls. She’d fuck me without fucking me.

She giggles. “That’s not part of the dare, Finnigan.” Shit.

I have to persevere. “Now, you’re really not playing fair.”

Releasing my cock, she sits back, putting her hand over her mouth, doing a piss-poor job of hiding a smile. “Oops. Sorry.” Yeah, right. She stretches her arms above her head, which lifts her T-shirt and pushes her tits into my face. I squeeze my hands into fists to keep from fondling or guiding one into my mouth.

Don’t let her defeat you, Wilder.

“How’s your bruise?” I ask, diverting myself with a topic that actually distracts me.

“Fine. Do you want to see it?” She pulls up her shirt further, and I examine the pink, purple, blue, and yellowed spot feathered out over her skin. I lightly brush my fingers over it, and she flinches.

I dolefully glance up at her. “Sorry.”

She grins. “It tickled. It doesn’t hurt constantly.”

Seeing her colorful stomach in the light, I still vividly see the ball slam into Becks and then her falling to the ground. I grit my teeth at the mental replay and snap, “I want you to rest.” It’s my fault she hasn’t.

“I’m in the middle of a dare with you. I guess you won’t win this one.”

I look back to her stomach and resolutely answer, “Yes, I will.” Now that I’ve seen her injury in this light, it’s sobering.

“Maybe you will since you’re going soft.”

“I’m worried about you.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t be. You should worry about losing this dare.”

My fingers trail up her smooth thighs, craving to finger her sweet spot, but I won’t. Still stupidly curious, I ask, “Oh, yeah? Why? What happens if I win?”

“You claim victory, refusing to have sex with me.” What a win.

“And if I lose?” Why in the hell did I ask that?

Becks wickedly smirks. “You get a hot fuck with your biggest fan, Finnigan.”

With a dark look, I warn, “Becks, take it easy today. I’m not kidding.”

“Neither am I.” She lifts her shirt up above her breasts, and my eyes involuntarily flicker over them. Oh, fuck. Her tits are a work of art.

“I know you want to touch them.” I’ve taunted her with that line. More than once.

This is payback.

I can’t look away from them. “What are you doing to me?”

“Daring you.”

“I dared you to try me, and you’re not. Doesn’t that mean you are losing?”

“But I’m not the professional risk-taker. I don’t need to win.” Becks bites her lip, and I reflexively lick mine. She then takes my hands and puts them on her tits, keeping her hands over mine. Her ring grazes my knuckle, and I powerlessly grow hard again.

I want to be such a loser.

Staring at my hands on her tits, feeling her nipples rock hard underneath, I grumble, “Becks, you’re cheating.”

“I have nothing to gain if you win.”

I incredulously dart my eyes up to hers. “Isn’t that the point of cheating?”

She quickly moves her face to mine and licks my lip before forcing her tongue into my mouth. We hotly kiss, and she shifts, so my dick is beneath her, and she rides my tip into the crotch of her underwear. She whispers, “Feel how wet I am for you, Sparks.” I love how only my Becks calls me that.

“I feel it,” I slur against her cheek. My will is crumbling faster than a stale oatmeal cookie in a wind tunnel. Becks slides her mouth down and sucks hard on my neck, not even low enough to hide it. Pam will laugh, but it’s worth it.

With my hands frozen on her tits, Becks hums over my skin, marking me as hers, but all of this is sensory overload, and I’m close to losing my mind and load. When she moves to kiss my throat, I feebly ask, “How long will you do this to me before I’m affirmed the winner?” I concentrate on not squeezing my fingers into her tits, or I’ll shoot cum all over them, which makes me want to lose even more.

From the crook of my neck, Becks declares, “I guess I’ll stop and get dressed.” She tantalizingly drags her tongue back up my neck and then over to my jaw. Gripping my hands, she presses them into her tits, so I’ll grab them tighter. Becks hotly moans, and I drop my right hand and tear at the crotch of her underwear, exposing her pussy.

She sits back, her eyes ablaze with desire, but she feigns innocence, asking, “What are you doing?” She knows exactly what I’m doing because she has me by the short and curlies.

I ominously glower at her. “I lose. Now fuck me, Hadley.”

Becks giggles. “No. You should aim to win.”

Deliberately shaking my head, I growl, “No fucking way. I give up. I surrender. I concede. I forfeit. Whatever. I want you. You’ve had fun, teasing me. It’s time to claim your victory.” I jerk her to me by the cotton material and force her hips down onto my eager dick. Burrowing into her cloud of pubic hair, I effortlessly slip into her, and I groan, slamming my head back on the couch cushion.

Becks, always the voice of reason too late, says, “Finn, wait.”

Clutching her hips, I smoothly glide her back and forth, her glossy hair tumbling over her shoulders. Amid my panting, I mutter, “Huh-uh. Don’t care. You won. I want my hot fuck with my number one Finnatic. Don’t you dare stop.”

She claws at my gray T-shirt and rides me. “What’s gotten into me? What’s gotten into you?”

“Your teasing. I told you I can’t get enough of you.” I sit us up, touching my lips to hers. “You do things to me, Hadley Beckett. I can’t resist you. You’re my ultimate downfall. Can’t you tell?”

Her fingers trail down my cheek. “I feel your love inside me, Sparks.”

“Feel it because I love you to the stars.”

“I love you beyond. You’re my weakness, Finnigan Wilder.” Fuck, I’m already losing it.

“Becks,” I groan her name and watch her pussy as I blast into her, knowing what I may have just done.

She moves faster on me. I don’t want her straining herself any further, so I help her by prodding her hips, which sets her off. “Sparks! Fuck! Oh, Finn!” Her snug warmth spreads over me, and I bring her lips to mine, kissing her as we fall back to the couch. She sighs as I coax her to keep riding me since I’m still rock-hard, and she leaves my lips to squeal more as she wrings my cock dry. “Oh, God!”

I wheeze, “Damn, baby,” as Becks collapses against me.

Panting, she asks, “What?”

I breathlessly grin. “You just fucked a loser.”

“They’re always the last to know.” She giggles, and I laugh, brushing her hair away so I can see her beautiful face.

Shaking my head, I smile with a sigh. “You’re so funny.”

Becks sits up as her smile falters. “I made an appointment to see my doctor in a few weeks.”

Still buried inside her, I lightly grasp her thighs. “If you don’t want to go on it, that’s up to you. I haven’t exactly been… diligent lately.”

Her gaze falls to my chest. “No, I guess not. We shouldn’t have even had sex last night or now without anything.”

“Hey.” I clasp her chin and tilt her head back. “Becks, it’s okay. I’m not in a stupor, or a high like you call them, so let’s just leave it at that.” I feel bad she might have a hard time getting pregnant or not at all. I need to make her happy somehow, even if it’s a major game-changer.

Am I having second thoughts about knocking up Becks?

I don’t know.


Quite possibly.

Shit. How is this happening?

She looks unsure as she kisses me.

Trust me. I’m confused as fuck, too.

We eat lunch and get to the ball field. I borrowed Becks’s makeup to cover my love bite, but it’s not the good stuff, so I expect jokes.

Becks told me about Morgan moving up her wedding two weeks. That cuts it close to our vacation. Weddings are a drag. If I’m able to go, I don’t want to see Becks dancing with other men. The only thing besides alcohol that will get me through it would be seeing Becks in that mystery dress and knowing we’ll have a hotel room.

With one arm hung over Becks’s shoulder and carrying the bag of balls, slung over mine, we amble from the lot to the field. I’ll make another trip for the bats since Ricky will be out today again. He’s been working extra shifts, naturally, when I need him the most.

Reaching the field, I toss the bag in front of the bench where Morgan is sitting. I’m still infuriated with her for attacking me at dinner.

I pull Becks to me and kiss her cheek. Nodding to the bench, I say, “Okay, Becks. Sit.” Off to the side, I notice Betsy and Shasta whispering. I narrow my eyes at them, and they stop talking. Those bitches had better not give Becks a hard time, or I will enjoy benching them for most of the games.

Looking at Becks, her beautiful face wrinkles into a frown. “I’m not a golden retriever, Finn.”

“You promised you would sit if I brought you.” It’s not even an argument. I’ll take her home. Though, I’m not a good bodyguard.

“So bossy,” she grumbles on the way to the bench while arranging her ponytail. I wish she’d leave her hair down more.

I put my hands on my hips. “Yep, I am. Cocky, too, and don’t you forget it, dearest.” She pivots, and her eyes grow large as her lips part as if she wants to argue, but I beat her to it. “Morgan, make sure she stays here with you. The doctor said for her to take it easy.” I’ve already done a literal fuck job of that one.

“I’ll watch her, coach.” Morgan smiles and hooks her arm around Becks. Shooting another warning glance to Shasta and Betsy, I pull down my sunglasses and stride away from the field to grab the bats.

I only make it a short distance when Becks shouts, “I’m watching softball practice, not mining coal, coach!” I then hear giggling. Does she think I’m joking?

Sighing, I stop and turn around, loudly saying, “Your mouth will get you into trouble.” I know of other ways she can put that mouth of hers to good use.

She stands and walks up to me, crossing her arms, testing me yet again since I failed her last dare. Her green eyes spiritedly glitter. “Yep, but you love me mouthy, sweetie.”

From behind my sunglasses, I impatiently roll my eyes, in no mood. I guide her back to the bench and coerce her to sit once more. Stooping, nose to nose, I tell her, “Sit. Stay.”

When I stand, she asks, “Will you give me a doggie bone?” She puts her hands as if she’s begging like a dog and pants. I inhale and restlessly lick my bottom lip. This was a bad idea. I won’t focus on the team.

“No, but I bet he’ll give you his bone,” Rod says, walking in front of me and sitting down next to her. Already did that, dipshit. I can’t even keep my dick in my pants around her.

Exasperated from this conversation, I shake my head and walk back to my car.

As I open my trunk to grab the bats, a voice behind me says, “Hey there, Finn. How’s Hadley?”

Shutting the lid, I turn to Cara and lift my sunglasses into my hair. “She’s okay. She’s benched for a week, maybe longer. She won’t be playing shortstop anymore.”

She squints her blue eyes in the sun. “Why? Other than the accident, she did a good job.”

I set down the bag, lean against the back of my car, and cross my arms. “I don’t want her in the infield.”

Cara puts her hands in her back pockets, and it pushes her tits outward more in her white T-shirt. They’re nice, but nothing like Becks’s, which fit perfectly in my hands. “I think we’re wasting her in the outfield.” She grins. Her lipstick is too much. I love how Becks keeps it low key if she wears any at all.

“Why do you care?”

“You didn’t see her play yesterday. She was good.”

“Well, she got hurt. It could happen again.”

“You can’t give her preferential treatment, Finn. Anyone can get hit.”

“Hadley is my priority.” She’s everything to me.

She shakes her head. “You’re more overprotective of her than usual. Did something else happen at the hospital?”

I scratch my jaw and thrust my other hand into my jeans pocket. “No.”

“She’s not pregnant, is she?” She might be after our most recent sexcapades.

I frown and look past her to the field. “What makes you ask that?” I have no time for this bullshit. I need to keep an eye on Becks.

“She got hit in the stomach. Did she find out at the hospital or something?”

“Where do you draw these conclusions? I don’t want a ball to hit her in the same spot. With bruising already there, it could kill her.” And that would kill me.

Still sounding somewhat doubtful, she replies, “Okay. Rod feels bad about hitting her.”

I look back to Cara. “I’m sure he does. It’s not like he would intentionally hurt her. They’re friends.”

“He seemed really upset.”

“Yeah. Not a surprise. He’d be upset, hitting anyone.”

“No. Hadley’s different. They definitely look close.” She nods her head to the side, and I look over. Rod has his arm around her and his head close to hers. My body tenses and I grit my teeth. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

“No,” I lie.

“Before you got here yesterday, he pawed all over her. She didn’t seem to mind. And then last Saturday when you were at the speedway, he was picking her up and touching her a lot. Do you think they’re…?”

I snap my head back to her. “Do I think they’re what? Fucking?” Am I that blind? Becks said they’re just friends, and he’s like a brother. I believe her. I seriously want to.

Cara flinches at my sharp tone but then shrugs. “I made a joke about him being her other boyfriend. She laughed but didn’t deny it much.”

“Huh?” I bow my head as I digest that while searching the ground for answers. I put a hand on a hip and restlessly burrow into my hair with the other, jostling my sunglasses.

“She said they’re only friends, but the look on her face hinted otherwise.”

I drop my hand from my hair. Cara smiles and observes my messy hair, I imagine. I ask, “How would you know? I trust Hadley. She loves me, not him.” Doesn’t she?

“Okay. I hope you can trust her. They seem to boost their affection for each other when you’re not around.”

I vigorously shake my head and glare at her. “She doesn’t want him.”

“She sure could’ve fooled me.”

I watch Becks and Rod laugh. She smacks his leg, and he moves to rub the back of her shoulder. Could they be sleeping together? Does she let him see her stunning naked body? Does she tell him the same things she whispers to me while making love? Touching him the same way she touches me? Does she tell that jackass she loves him and wants to get married? Am I an idiot to think those sentiments are only meant for me? Does he promise her he’ll marry her and give her children since I won’t?

No. I want to put a ring on her finger. I want to father her children.

So why don’t I?

Because I’m a world-class dick.

If Becks leaves me for Greg Rodwell, my fucking life is over. My best friend dared me to take shooting lessons at a gun range. Ricky also has a nice collection, and I have easy access.


“What?” I look around and impatiently inhale. “Nothing. I need to start practice.” I grab the bag of bats and make my way over with Cara trailing behind. Val is passing out bright red hats with Legal Eagles written across the front in white. I need to talk to her about Becks taking vacation time next week. I’ve been busy, or people have been around.

“Here, coach!” She hands me one, and I remove my sunglasses from my hair and put on the hat, adjusting the plastic strap in the back. Becks gives me her pretty smile, and I can’t help but smile back. “Okay, here are our shirts! I have the sizes written next to the names, so bear with me. Coach, here is your shirt. Cara, this one is yours. I have Ricky’s. Rod, sweet pea, here’s yours.”

I lean against the chain-link behind home plate, and Cara stands near me, weirdly surveying the group. Is she looking for more telltale signs of an affair between Becks and Rod?

Should I be?

Morgan laughs. “How much you want to bet sweet pea’s number is negative nine with Dick Rod on the back?”

“I’m Rodwell and number three, hag.”

“Sylvie. Betsy. Brandon. Morgan, here are yours.”

“Let’s check out yours, Morticia, six-six-six.”

“Hilarious, Ass Rod. I’m Yates, four.”

“I guess Val has odds against your marriage since she opted for your spinster name.”

Val says, “It’s bad luck before the wedding, Rod.”

Rod sneers, “Ivan said bye-bye to luck the day he proposed.” Morgan flips him the bird, and I laugh. I see Becks blankly staring at her hat, again lost in thought at a ball field.

“Betsy, here’s yours. Shasta, hon. Crick.”

“What number did you get, Crock?”

Becks frowns at Rodwell. “Be nice and stop changing his name.”

“I could call him something way worse that rhymes with Crick.”

“Knock it off, you ass hat. That’s my assistant,” Morgan gripes.

“My condolences to you, Crack.”

“Children…” Val warbles as she reads the packing slip.

Becks scolds, “You changed his name twice in the last five seconds.”

“Three, if you count the one I was thinking of.” Rod looks up from Becks and yells, “Crunk, what’s your number, bro?” Make that four times.


“Aw, yeah. I’m a higher rank.”

“No ranking, Rod. They were mostly random,” Val informs him.


“Babe, here’s yours.” Knowing Val calls Becks that from other times at practice, I jog over and take it from her before Becks has a chance.

Delivering it to her, I say, “Here, babe.” I smirk and hand Becks the red shirt.

Rod practically hops over. “Hadders, is your name spelled right? What number did you get?”

She unfolds the shirt, and her beaming face rivals the sun. “Becks, eleven.” Maybe I can’t share my name with her, but I’ll give her my high school baseball number.

“You’re way down the rankings. You’re in Suckville. I guess they charge by the letter, and you got fucked.”

“Gregory!” Val admonishes.

Peering up at me, Becks happily says, “It’s perfect.”

I grin and bite my lip to curb my amusement, somewhat.

It’s good to be coach.

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