Page 53 of Broken Play (The O’Ryan Family #1)

FIFTY-TWO

SUTTON

My stomach takes a nosedive as I read the message from my faceless blackmailer.

My hands are clammy, and breathing should be easy, but it isn't. I'm living in a nightmare that I can't shake, not knowing if the person is watching me at this very moment or if he's just a coward monitoring me through social media. I reread the warning.

"You can avoid total humiliation by dumping number ten. If you don't, the whole world will see you for the slut you are, and you'll never live to see your precious tennis protégé."

I fight the urge to throw my phone across the hotel room, wishing I could unsee those words.

My thoughts war with each other—how can I walk away from Greyson after fighting so hard to be together?

But the little girl beside me deserves a good life.

I can't risk her future for my own, not even for love.

The flight home is long, but changing planes goes without a hitch. As soon as we land, a cab takes us to the tennis academy, and I make sure Paulina is settled and the resident assistant knows she's back.

As if on autopilot, my car takes me directly to Greyson's ranch. This time, I don't go in the back way; whoever is watching me will know where I am. Before I turn into the paved driveway, the gravel crunches beneath my tires, but it's not louder than the mixed emotions tumbling around in my head.

He yanks open the front door before I've even knocked. His face is drawn, his eyes filled with worry and something else. He knows I've been deliberately putting distance between us.

"Why the hell haven't you returned my text?" His voice is as rough as sandpaper, desperate for answers.

I can barely look at him, standing in his sweatpants, which hang low on his hips, shirtless, with his trail of hair leading to the promised land. His hair looks like he's been digging tunnels through it for hours, and anxiety is etched into every angle of his face.

"I can't do this." My voice cracks, and my words fall out, beaten and worn.

The ache in his gaze is palpable. "I have to put Paulina first. I can't risk something happening to me and jeopardizing me getting custody of her.

I don't want my private life, much less my body, bared for the world to gawk at and share because some psycho has a phone. "

He reaches for me, but I turn just enough so that his hand falls back to his side.

His jaw tightens, and those little muscles pop in the porch light.

Pain reflects in his eyes. "Don't do this, Sutton.

Don't let this asshole win. You said you loved me.

Is this what you do when you love someone?

Turn your back on them? Turn your back on a good chance at happiness? "

Every instinct I have wants to close the distance between us, to let him hold me in his arms, and to wash all the doubt away, but I step back, even though I don't want it to end. "I don't have a choice."

"There's always a choice, and you're making the wrong one. Do you want to know how I know?" I shake my head no. He steps forward, placing his large hands on my cheeks and neck. "Because you're mine. All mine."

His mouth crashes against mine, and the heat of his kiss exceeds any he's given me before. It's hungry and angry. Greedy, taking what he needs.

My hands slide up his muscular back, and before I know it, we're inside the house, ripping off each other's clothes. He isn't wearing a shirt, so it's mainly him undressing me in haste, as if he needs to prove a point.

His mouth skates up my skin as he bites my nipples, causing me to arch my back and push into his erection.

It's like a hurricane when it makes landfall—desperate, wild, every touch drawing out a thousand unspoken words we're too broken to say.

It isn't just about bodies; it's about needing to feel alive, to anchor ourselves to something real before it all slips away.

I love the way Greyson makes me forget everything outside this room—how his hands and mouth make me feel seen, cherished, like I'm worth fighting for, even when I'm about to let him go.

I lose count of his orgasms after three.

I think he senses it's really over and that as long as he keeps making love to me, I'll forget all the reasons I need to leave.

He sucks and fucks me. He loves and worships every inch of my skin. He utters over and over, "I know you love me the same way I love you," as he hovers over me, his elbows beside my ears .

When it's over, he gathers me against his chest, his breathing ragged. There's a tremor in his voice when he whispers, "Please don't leave, Sutton. Not tonight. Not like this."

I place a soft kiss on his lips. "This isn't just about me. It's about Paulina." I ease myself from his grip.

"Sutton," he pleads, with tears threatening in his eyes. "I need you. You and Paulina both. Please give me a chance to work this out."

Tears sting my eyes as I frantically put on my clothes. "I'm sorry. You'll always be my Ten. Maybe one day, but not now." I force myself out the door, letting the cool, crisp air slap me in the face.

He yells my name, his voice shattering like glass. "Sutton, please. Please." I don't look back, knowing if I do, I'll never be able to leave, and I can't let a little girl be all alone in the world. I could never forgive myself.