Game For Love: Winter Heat (Kindle Worlds Novella)

  Text copyright ©2014 by the Author.

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Nyree Belleville, Oak Press, LLC. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements of Game For Love remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Nyree Belleville, Oak Press, LLC, or their affiliates or licensors.

  For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds

  Winter Heat

  Tasha Black

  13th Story Press

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Afterword

  Chapter 1

  Christopher was pitching a classic fit. Becca paced the floor of the small room, trying to be patient with him.

  "Becca, you have no idea what it's like out there! I'm under so much pressure. I just need a little privacy."

  "Mom said I can't leave you alone here. Not for a minute."

  "How old are we, Becca?"

  "Twenty-one."

  "And the door has a lock, right?"

  "Yes."

  "Do you really think something bad is going to happen to me if you go have dinner by yourself and give me a minute?"

  Becca McCall studied her twin in silence. He was a gifted figure skater. And he was perhaps an even more gifted actor. She was pretty sure he was manipulating her. In any case, placating him wasn't worth what they all had risked to get him here.

  "Christopher, Mom said not to leave you alone. I'm not going to leave you. You know what we all sacrificed to get you here. If anything goes wrong it was for nothing."

  Becca wasn't just talking about the possessions they'd sold and the things they'd done without in favor of paying for Christopher's training and his participation in the IW Games. She was also thinking about how she had gone to state college with him instead of art school, and delayed her own hopes and dreams.

  Christopher must have followed her train of thought. He relented, but not quietly. Christopher always had to have the last word.

  "Fine, Becca. I don't need a basic human right like privacy. But will you do one thing for me?"

  "What thing?"

  "My knee hurts. Would you please go get me more ice?"

  Becca hesitated. The ice bins were on the first floor three buildings over. She could be back in ten minutes if she hurried.

  "Come on, Becca, I'm worried about tomorrow."

  Tomorrow was the qualifying round. This should be Christopher's year – he had paid his dues and really turned a corner since Nationals. He would have been the top news story of the International Winter Games if it weren't for that snowboarder.

  Somehow snowboarding was now an Olympic-level sport. Naturally, the news channels felt that a snowboarder boy made a more interesting sound bite than a male figure skater.

  It didn't hurt that the snowboarder had a sappy back-story. Samir Andrews had been adopted from an orphanage in Nepal when he was only two years old. Then his mother had run off and left him to be raised by a brave single dad in sunny southern California. Now he was a stunningly handsome young man who had all the girls going gaga.

  And so Samir Andrews had been featured in endless clips and was consequently pursued by sponsors, while Becca's brother attended endless, painful practices without fanfare. All of which were paid for by their hardworking single mom. Single mothers, Becca could only assume, were too pedestrian to garner sympathy.

  Now their hopes for a lucrative sponsorship for Christopher hung on a big win this week. It was a lot of pressure.

  "Christopher, are you trying to get me out of here so you can do something crazy?"

  "Becca, for the last time, I was kidding about going crazy here! What crazy thing am I going to do? I feel like I was just run over by a truck. I just want to ice my knee, watch some bad reality TV with you and go to sleep."

  Becca smiled.

  Christopher let his shoulders down and grinned back at her.

  "Okay, I will be back here in ten minutes. You rest, okay?"

  "Thanks, sis," he said with saccharine sweetness. "You're the greatest!"

  Becca rolled her eyes but smiled to herself anyway. Say what you would about Christopher's attitude, the fact that he had the energy left over to be high-spirited was incredible. He had always been loud and funny and interesting. She was proud to be his twin.

  Trotting down the stairs, Becca wondered if she would bump into anyone she knew on the short trip for ice. The American skating team was tight but most of the skaters were likely locked up in their rooms already, getting massaged, eating yogurt, and trying to get some sleep.

  She turned outside the building and passed two giggling girls who were headed in. They were rail thin with amazing posture. One of them looked familiar. Was that Sasha Fedenko? Sasha was a Russian skating star. Last time Becca had seen her was at last year's IW Games on the ice. She looked taller now but she wore a very short skirt and a pair of striped knee socks – she looked like a hot anime character. Her friend was even thinner with a long neck, like a swan.

  Becca supposed that she was lucky that her mother let her go along with Christopher to the Games Village this year. Last year she'd stayed in the cheapest youth hostel they could find nearby and taken a shuttle in to watch from the stands. Her mom had stayed in the Village with Christopher. It was only at Christopher's insistence that Becca had been given the opportunity to stay here this time.

  She picked up her pace a bit. It would be awful if something did happen and then it would all be her fault. You hated to think about what these games meant to the participants and how far someone might go to sabotage an opponent.

  As she approached the ice bins she heard someone talking. In the shadows behind the bins, a dark haired man paced and spoke urgently into a cell phone in a low voice.

  Not wanting to disturb him, Becca quietly walked to the farthest bin. When she pressed her bucket against the arm, the ice came out of the machine in an ear-splitting clatter.

  The man cursed and hung up the phone, then stormed up to Becca.

  "What the hell are you spying on me for? Are you with LPS Sports?"

  Becca froze.

  He was familiar.

  He was also the best looking man she had ever seen.

  His jet-black hair was a little too long and brushed the collar of his white t-shirt. His big brown eyes had long, gorgeous lashes, and his powerful jaw line pointed to a sensuous mouth.

  The white of the t-shirt was pulled tight across a lean and muscular chest. It gleamed in contrast with the languid muscles of his light brown arms. Fashionably worn-in jeans hung low on his hips, showing just a hint of his cut abs, leaving Becca's imagination free to picture so much more.

  Becca tried to find her bearings, but there was something about this man that
took her breath away. Her whole body pulled toward him with an almost gravitational force. She dragged her eyes back up to his face.

  Anger flashed in his beautiful, dark eyes. And then something else.

  Suddenly it hit her. This was Samir Andrews - the snowboarder who had stolen her brother's chance for a sponsorship and her family's shot at a semi-normal life. All the years of sacrifice and pain came to the surface.

  "No," she heard herself say, "I am not with LPS. The press is not allowed in the village as you would know if you had read your handbook. And for your information, I was not spying. I was getting ice for my brother."

  She spun on her heel and marched away with her bucket of ice, feeling pleased that she had stood up for herself.

  If only her traitorous body wasn't still responding to his. It felt like if it weren't for her anger she would be pulled back to him like a magnet.

  Chapter 2

  Samir was rooted to the spot, incredulous that the enchanting little creature with the long auburn curls had yelled at him and marched away.

  Women almost always acted a little crazy around him, but it was usually because they wanted something from him: an autograph, a picture, a chance to tell their friends that they had slept with Samir Andrews, the famous snowboarder.

  Samir hadn't seen this girl before - that much was for sure. He would have remembered. She was the only girl he'd seen all day that looked like a woman.

  Dreamily, he pictured her again. His imagination called up her long, flame-colored locks, piercing green eyes, dancing breasts and round hips – then replayed the hypnotic sway of that feminine form as she walked away.

  He realized his heart was pounding and his cock was hard as a rock.

  Samir took a few deep, cleansing breaths.

  This was just what he needed to avoid. He should be focused on the Games and on keeping his secrets to himself. Instead he was out here goading them out into the open.

  In his defense, he hadn't expected the magical girl.

  Regretfully, he realized he had blown it with her anyhow. Why had he come out yelling?

  It must be the stress of the Games.

  Samir wasn't sure why he had even thought he could pursue a career in professional sports. His secret was sure to come out sooner or later. It shimmered just beneath the surface of his skin, waiting to burst through at the first serious injury or other disaster.

  Or maybe even at the first sign of serious attraction.

  He shook his head and pulled the phone back out of his pocket, determined to get his mind off the girl.

  His dad had, of course, called back three times since Samir hung up. His parents were so worried about security. In spite of the fact that they knew he could take care of himself and then some.

  Chapter 3

  Becca's heart was still pounding as she started up the stairs to the room. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't forget Samir's beautiful, tortured eyes. His sinfully gorgeous body would be on her mind for a while too.

  She tried to get off that track by reminding herself that it just wasn't fair. Samir would probably sleep with half the girls in the Village, drink all night, and then just sail down the snowy mountain on his little board. Poor Christopher had to ice his knee and go right to sleep to make precise miracles happen on the ice tomorrow.

  So it was downright betrayal to imagine Samir's powerful arms around her, and his sensual mouth feeding on hers.

  As Becca rounded the corner to the room, she swore she heard a familiar giggle. It got louder as she approached.

  There was a long striped sock over the door knob. What the heck?

  Becca pulled it off and turned her key in the lock.

  What she saw when she opened the door would be seared into her memory for life.

  Her brother was reclined on the bed. Sasha Fedenko, less the short skirt and long socks, knelt beside him. He was licking hungrily at her tiny nipples as she buried her own fingers in her vagina.

  On the other side of Christopher, the girl with the swan neck made slurping sounds as she sucked his penis in and out of her mouth.

  "Aghhh!" Becca yelled, covering her eyes with an arm.

  "Becca!" Christopher spluttered.

  "I was gone for ten minutes!"

  "There's a sock over the handle," Sasha said in her smooth accent, "you're not supposed to come in."

  That wasn't in the handbook.

  Becca stole a glance at her. Christopher had leaned away from her chest, but her fingers were still working her glistening pussy.

  "This is my room too," Becca managed.

  "He's the athlete, you're just the sister. He needs his stress relief. Come back in an hour," Sasha said lightly.

  Christopher looked at her with pleading eyes.

  "Give me a few minutes, Becca. I'm only human."

  It was the final straw. Becca was glad she hadn't had a chance to unpack.

  She slammed the bucket of ice on the dresser and grabbed her duffel and her sewing machine case.

  "Good luck tomorrow, Christopher."

  Becca wasn't sure what she expected to happen when she left. But it certainly wasn't the laughter she heard as soon as she had slammed the door. It was one thing from those two skate bitches, but it broke her heart that Christopher was laughing at her too.

  Didn't he know that the only reason Becca didn't have a life was because she had given hers up for him?

  Chapter 4

  Samir couldn't get the girl off his mind. Back in his room he paced and ran his fingers through his hair.

  "What's wrong, big guy?"

  "Taylor, didn't you ever learn to knock?" Samir said.

  He was actually glad to see the younger teammate. Maybe hanging out would help to clear his head.

  Taylor shrugged, apology in his bright blue eyes. Then, his natural exuberance freed itself and he bounced over to his friend.

  "Can you believe qualifiers are tomorrow?"

  Samir smiled and pounded Taylor on the back. He was glad their events were qualifying right away for so many reasons – one of which was that poor Taylor was really sweating them.

  "It'll be okay, buddy. How's the ankle?"

  Taylor shook his golden curls.

  "Still giving me problems. Doc said to keep it elevated but... it's hard."

  Samir could well imagine that his friend would have a hard time sitting still long enough to elevate an ankle. He smiled at him.

  "Look man, make yourself at home. I'll grab you some ice for that. We'll watch something on TV if you want – it'll make it easier to sit still."

  Taylor grinned and flopped himself onto Samir's bed with such abandon Samir figured it would be a miracle if he didn't hurt himself again just trying to relax.

  Samir tossed him the remote.

  "Find something good."

  Outside, the cold night air felt amazing. Stars twinkled in the Lake Placid sky.

  Samir looked around hopefully – knowing as he did so that the exquisite girl was long gone and would have no reason to come back.

  That's when he heard it.

  Someone or something was making small muffled sounds in the shadows where he'd called his dad just a few minutes ago.

  Samir strode over quietly and peered into the darkness.

  What he saw had him blinking in disbelief.

  The beautiful girl was sitting on the concrete patio, leaned back against the wall. A bunch of luggage was beside her. A book and pencil were hugged to her chest. Her auburn curls cascaded over her shoulders. Her hands were covering her face.

  And she was sobbing into them.

  Samir's heart clenched.

  Crying women were not Samir's forte. His mom had left when he was little, so he'd been brought up solo by his amazing dad. Samir liked to think he was an enlightened guy – but situations like this one threw him. Most women didn't let you see them cry unless you were family.

  Samir's first instinct was to back away, quietly.

  But something about this
girl had touched him. She was so fierce - he couldn't bear to see her to cry. He had to comfort her.

  Samir approached carefully and crouched down opposite her.

  "Hey."

  She ripped her hands away from her face and gasped.

  Samir's heart clenched again. Tears glittered like emeralds in her startling green eyes. Up close she was even more beautiful than he could have imagined. Her skin was milky white and her full lips trembled. She nervously brushed her hair over her shoulder. It smelled like peppermint.

  "Are you okay?"

  "My brother kicked me out."

  "Why?"

  "I, um, caught him in a compromising position?"

  Samir stared at her, having a hard time understanding her through a haze of desire.

  "He was in bed with two women."

  Samir's eyebrows went up. The thought roused him from his trance. What an unthinkable thing to do when you knew your sister was on her way.

  "I see."

  Samir wondered who the brother was. Couldn't be a snowboarder or he would know the sister, wouldn't he?

  His eyes met hers again and he lost his train of thought. She was fussing with the pad of paper, trying to turn a page over.

  "What's that?"

  "It's nothing," she said too quickly, pulling it back to her chest.

  He pulled it down and looked.

  On the open page was a pencil drawing of a lean muscular guy with jet black hair –

  Hey!

  It was Samir. He was in a casual stance with one arm folded behind his head. The other hand held his board. He was looking away with an intense expression that contrasted with his body language.

  "That's me!"

  She nodded her head miserably.

  Why was she so sad? She should be really proud – the drawing was good. It was great, actually. It captured his public and private selves perfectly all at the same time – almost like she knew him. And he looked super hot.

  Oh.

  He pulled back to study her, but she had looked down and allowed a tumble of copper curls to cover her face.