The Baller (12 page)

Read The Baller Online

Authors: Vi Keeland

BOOK: The Baller
4.59Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Through the glass front doors, I saw Brody leaning against his car. He was swinging the keys around casually and watching the people come and go from the building. I was an equal mix of excited and nervous as I stepped onto the sidewalk. When he caught sight of me, his face curved into a delicious grin. He folded his arms across his chest and watched me intently as I walked toward the car. The street was filled with people walking in all directions, yet he didn’t seem to notice a single one of them. It was the craziest thing—the way he was looking at me, watching every move I made with desire on his face—was actually turning me on a little. My body became aroused without a single touch. I was suddenly starving, but it definitely wasn’t for dinner.

He extended a hand to me as I neared, then abruptly tugged it hard, pulling me against him. Surprising me, he proceeded to kiss me—right there on the street.
And what a kiss.

My brain was short-circuited when he finally released my mouth. “Damn.” His hands slid down and locked around my waist, keeping me flush against him. “We could skip the date.”

Even though my body wanted nothing more than to do exactly that, I said, “I can’t make it that easy for you now, can I?”

“You’ve done nothing but make me hard since the day I met you.” He pulled me even tighter against him—I literally felt his sincerity. Pushing against my stomach.

“So where are we going?”

“Dinner and a museum.”

“Museum?”

“You said you loved them the other day.”

“For a guy who doesn’t believe in bullshit flowers and sweet gestures, you’re pretty damn good at them.”

Even though we went to a small restaurant that was off the celebrity grid, between the time the valet took the car and when we were seated at a quiet table in the corner, two people stopped us.

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. I’m used to it. Only I don’t remember the wives of the men who stopped my dad looking at him the way that last guy’s wife was ogling you.”

“I met your dad once.”

“You did?”

“Yep. Training camp my first year on the team. He took me aside, and we talked for about a half hour. He used to come the first day of every season.”

“What did you talk about?”

“He told me if I ever went near his daughter, he’d crush my nuts in a vise.”

My eyes widened. “Really?”

“Nah, I’m just screwing with you.”

I laughed. I did that a lot around Brody. He had an uncanny ability to change my mood in an instant. One minute I would be laughing, the next I could be practically panting from the extreme sexual tension.

After we had ordered wine and appetizers, another excited fan interrupted our conversation and asked for an autograph. It was mid football season, and I was having dinner with the starting quarterback of the number-two-ranked team.

“Does it bother you? Fame?”

“Not usually. I generally don’t do anything in public that I care about being interrupted. Believe it or not, I don’t go out too much.”

“I’ve seen you photographed with plenty of women.”

“Most of that was from events. Obligations for sponsors or the team. I actually can’t remember the last time I had a date like this. Without it being something I was required to attend.”

“Why is that? I’m guessing it isn’t from lack of opportunity.”

“I like to keep my focus on the game.”

“So you’ve never had a serious relationship?”

Brody leaned back into his chair and glanced around the restaurant. “I’ve had a relationship, yes.”

“Just one?”

“Just one.” A muscle in his jaw flexed. Clearly this conversation made him uncomfortable. But I wanted to know more about him.

“What happened?”

“It ended.”

“I gathered that much, considering we’re sitting here, and you’ve been trying to get me to sleep with you for weeks.”

Brody’s eyebrows shot up. “Why does it always feel like I’m being interviewed when we’re together?”

“Probably because you don’t volunteer much information.”

The waitress stopped by our table. “Can I take these plates for you?”

Brody nodded. “That would be great.”

When she disappeared, he tried to change the subject. “So, journalism?”

I wasn’t letting him off the hook so easily. I sipped my wine and ignored his blatant attempt. “So you have had a relationship before?”

“Yes.”

“How long ago did it end?”

“I don’t know, Delilah. I haven’t kept a calendar. Four years ago, maybe.”

“So only casual dating since then?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting.”

“Not really. Is it my turn to ask the questions yet?”

“By all means.” I waved my hand as if I were giving him the floor.

He scratched his chin for a moment. “If you knew you were going to be stranded on an island for a month and could only bring three things, what would you bring with you?”

I laughed. “You could have just brought up football or politics to change the subject.”

“I could have, but I really want to know if you’d pick a vibrator as one of your three items.”

“You think if I was going to be stranded on an island and I could only bring three things, I’d bring a vibrator?”

“Guess I’m kind of hoping you would.”

“Don’t think that would be on my short list.”

“What would be?”

“I don’t know. Off the top of my head? Matches, water and a fishing net.”

“Smart choices. I’m disappointed. But at least you won’t starve.”

“Your questions are bizarre, you know that, right?”

“Maybe. But your answer just told me a lot about you. Like I just learned you’re practical. You know you can get yourself off with your hand, so you won’t waste one of your three things on an unnecessary toy.” He tapped his finger to his temple and grinned. “Good thinking.”

“Let me ask you something. If we eventually have sex—”

Brody interrupted. “If?”

“When.
When,
you know…”

“I fuck you…”

“Yes, that. Will you stop talking about sex so much afterward?”

He leaned forward. “Not a fucking chance. I’m gonna bet that once I’m inside of you, it’s only going to get worse.”

“Okay then.”
God, it’s warm in here.
I needed to change the subject, or this date was going to end very soon. Taking a cue from Brody, I asked, “If you could have your pick of any Disney princess, which one would it be?”

Brody smiled. “Nice. Let me think about that one.”

He was quiet for a moment, then surprised me. He was taking my question seriously. “Definitely not Sleeping Beauty. She lies around sleeping all day, waiting for some shmuck wearing tights to come kiss her.”

“That’s not exactly how I would have summed her up. But, okay . . . continue.”

He rubbed his chin. “Snow White’s voice would annoy the shit out of me. Plus, I’m six-two, and she’s into short guys.” He paused. “I’m not sure I know any other princesses. Wait. No. That chick from
Aladdin
is hot. Or the
Little Mermaid.
But can a mermaid spread her legs? And is she even a princess?”

The rest of the evening continued the same way. We asked each other ridiculous questions, and the answers actually revealed a lot about each other. I started to think maybe I should throw one oddball question into my interviews from now on. After Brody had paid the bill, we waited outside for the valet to bring his car around. There was a crowd of people talking, and I noticed he steered us away from them and turned his back so as not to call attention to himself.

“Favorite position?” he asked.

Easy. “Quarterback, of course. I’m a daddy’s girl.”

He leaned in, whispering in my ear. “I meant favorite position naked.”

“Oh.”
Oh!

He was actually waiting for a response. “I’m not sure. Never really gave it any thought.” I swallowed. “What about you?”

He took my hands in his and brought them together behind my back. Capturing both my wrists in one of his large hands, his other lifted to my face and brushed a lock of hair from my cheek. “On top. Doesn’t even matter how. I’ve just had an ache to be on top of you since the day we met. As much as I’d love to watch you ride me, I think on top is what I’ll like best with you. And probably missionary. Because for some reason, there’s nothing more I want to do than watch your face as I sink deep inside of you.”

It wasn’t the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to me, yet I felt it everywhere, even in my chest. “Jesus, Brody.”

He brushed his lips against mine. “Our museum trip is going to be a quick one.”

The tenderness of his touch, combined with the rawness of his words, left me with a yearning I’d never experienced before. I leaned in, our mouths again lightly joining, and let my words vibrate against our lips. “Let’s skip the museum.”

 

***

 

When we pulled up to the hotel that was his football-season home, Brody waved off the valet and jogged around to the passenger side of the car. He extended his hand to help me out.

“In for the night, Mr. Easton?”

He laced our fingers together and pulled me toward the door, responding over his shoulder without stopping. “I may never come back out.”

My breath quickened as the elevator neared the top floor. We weren’t alone in the car, yet the only thing I could smell or hear was Brody. I watched his chest rise and fall in the reflection on the shiny silver doors, and my breaths began to match his. He was standing behind me, and I could feel his every breath. I didn’t try to fit my breathing into his pattern, my body just naturally joined in with his. It wasn’t going to be the only rhythm that came to us innately; there was no doubt of that. Raw sexual chemistry had been running like a current between us since the first day we met.

The sound of the lock closing behind me echoed through the hotel suite. I walked a few feet inside of the room but didn’t turn around. Brody was behind me. He wasn’t touching, yet I could feel him near. He tossed his keys onto a table; they rattled loudly. My body was so fired up, so filled with anticipation, that the sound actually made me gasp a little.

The suite was dark. It seemed to intensify what I heard, what I smelled, what I felt. Brody’s hand gripped my hip from behind as he moved in closer. He swept my hair to one side with his other hand. When his head dipped down, and he ran his nose along the pulse line of my throat, I let out a small moan, lifting my arms over my head and wrapping them around his neck. Thoughts of what was about to happen made me weak in the knees.

“There are so many things I want to do to you.” Brody’s voice was low and gritty, filled with all of the want and desire I was feeling myself.

“Like what?”

He kept his mouth at my ear while his hands caressed my body. Slowly, he ran his fingers down my side—from my hip over the curve of my waist, then around to my front, cupping both my breasts in his hands. He squeezed firmly. “I want to suck on your tits. Hard. Nibble on your nipples until you can’t take it anymore.”

“What else?” Any shyness I had was gone. The man made me desperate.

“Then I think I’ll eat you out. I want you to sit on my face while I do that. So you can control where you want me to suck, how hard you want to ride my tongue.”

“Oh God.”

“Then, when you’re good and wet . . . when you’re soaked for me and I can smell that you want me, I’m going to hold your hands over your head and fuck you. I won’t be able to go easy the first time. We’ll save that for the morning when the sunlight streams in on your naked body, and I can watch the way your face changes with every stroke, listen to the way your breath changes as I bury myself deep inside of you.”

Brody’s hands left my breasts and ran down the front of my body. He sucked on my earlobe and gripped my sides, pulling me against him. His erection was straining through his pants and pushing all the way up to my lower back.

“This ass. I’d like to have that, too. Maybe not tonight. But someday soon. I want to be inside every part of this body. Try everything with you. Own every piece of this body.”

I pushed back, rubbing my ass harder against him.

He groaned.

“That first day I met you in the locker room? I was hard the entire afternoon after you left. Not even a cold shower with a bunch of hairy football players nearby could calm me down. I came home and jerked myself off to a visual of your face on my eyelids.”

He spun me around, wisely holding onto me when he did. I was lightheaded from all the blood rushing to other parts of my body. Then he devoured my mouth, kissing me in a way I’d never been kissed before. Dominant, yet not forceful. Composed, yet needing. There was no question he was in control of my body. Our tongues tangled, lips meshed and bodies melted into each other. Separating for only as long as it took, he lifted my shirt off.

Other books

Tracie Peterson by A Place to Belong
Sefarad by Antonio Muñoz Molina
Mommy's Little Girl by Diane Fanning
Starship: Mercenario by Mike Resnick
Molly's Millions by Victoria Connelly
The Trail of 98 by Service, Robert W
The Road to Rowanbrae by Doris Davidson
The Mystery Horse by Gertrude Chandler Warner
The Caged Graves by Dianne K. Salerni