Mister Baller: A Small Town Enemies-to-Lovers Sports Romance (Bad Boys in Love Book 2)

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  “Can I?”

  I nod again, a hot feeling rising along my spine.

  He reaches for the papers and almost immediately, his eyes bulge. “Whoa!”

  Whoa! is an understatement. This alien shifter BDSM book is steamy!

  I collapse back on the mattress, pulling a pillow over my face to hide my blushing grin. He’s going to think this is weird. That I’m weird. Oh gosh, things won’t be the same between us after this.

  Eventually, I pull the pillow from my face. I lie there watching his wordless, stock-still body, absorbing every shift in his expression, every twitch in his features as he skims the sex-drenched pages. His cheeks take on a pink hue and I feel my own blush intensifying on my skin.

  My nipples pebble. My flesh heats up. I feel slick between the thighs.

  After a few tense minutes, he whistles low on his breath.

  “What do you think?” I dare to ask.

  He glances over at me. Then back at the papers. Then back at me again.

  He scrubs a big hand down his face. “I-I’m having trouble coming up with words…”

  I giggle like a silly preteen in a Sex Ed workshop. The room is thick, heavy. Sex clinging to every air molecule. I wish he’d just kiss me. I wish he’d crawl over me and put his mouth on mine and slip his fingers into my panties to see exactly how I feel about him in this moment.

  Instead, he looks away. Again, he blinks heavily and gives his head a graceless shake. “I-I really need to get out of here.”

  I rise into a seated position. “What?” I thought that something was happening here. Between us.

  He waivers a little when he stands. “I’ve had way too much to drink at the bar so my judgment isn’t the best. And after reading this…” He waves the manuscript in the air and his words trail off.

  My gaze drops to his crotch and I can see that bulge trying to tear its way through the seams of his jeans.

  He strokes my cheek. “I don’t want to do anything stupid tonight. You understand that, right?”

  I’m sure disappointment is written all over my face. Still, I nod. “I understand.”

  Tenderly, he brushes my hair from my face and presses his soft lips to my forehead. His stubble deliciously bruises my skin. “I know that things are dark in your world right now. But I promise you’ll find the light one day soon.”

  Things aren't so dark right now. Not with you here in my life. The words threaten to leave my mouth.

  When I inhale him, I have to reach up and curl my fingers in his shirt to keep from fainting with lust.

  Jude slowly pulls away and walks over to the door. He watches me and I see desire that mirrors mine. “Let’s be clear about one thing…I’m going to fuck you, Iris. And when I do, I’m going to be perfectly sober and so will you. Because I’m going to make sure neither of us ever forgets it.”

  At his words, my belly fills with fire. My only response is a muttered, “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Good night.” With a smirk, he closes the door softly.

  Perfectly flushed from my split-ends all the way down to my chipped toenails, I drop back onto my mattress and whisper up at the ceiling. “Good night…”

  26

  Jude

  Last one. Tighten your abdominal muscles. And curl, curl, curl. Hold it. Engage your core.”

  Iris scrunches her nose as she wearily executes my orders, the strain evident on her face. “I can’t,” she whines. “I can’t do it.”

  “Yes, you can,” I encourage her. “You can do it…Hold.” I silently count down from five to one. “Now, release.”

  She collapses onto the lush lawn, expelling a dense, pained exhale.

  “That was good,” I tell her. “Really good.” I’m sitting in the grass beside her with my legs stretched out in front of me.

  She wheezes and rolls over onto her side in the fetal position. “You’re a sadist. A mean, mean sadist.”

  I choke out a laugh and drop down beside her.

  We’re working out in the backyard today. The weather is beautiful and the house felt a little stuffy. Plus, I figured I could use the fresh air because hangover or not, there’s no way I was missing my exercise today.

  If my physiotherapist noticed I was off my game, he didn’t mention it. In fact, he looked encouraged by my progress during our session earlier.

  Now, I’m here in the grass with the beautiful, sweaty, panting Miss Merlini and there’s no other way I’d rather spend my afternoon.

  With Iris lying there, still struggling for her breath, I focus on changing up the playlist. Something upbeat will probably give us the boost we need to make it through the rest of this workout.

  She picks up her bottle and sucks greedily on the nozzle. “Shit—I’m out of water,” she groans.

  My eyes flit over her delicious curves, stretching that spandex outfit in all the right places. My cock twitches approvingly. “Let me fill you up.”

  Her eyes snap to mine. I cringe when I realize how that sounded.

  “I-I just mean, let me fill up your bottle.” I grab her bottle and mine, and hurry my horny ass toward the kitchen.

  Neither of us has addressed the half-finished conversation from last night but the tense sexual energy between us is stifling. I need to work up the courage to confront this situation. Today. For health and sanity reasons, if nothing else.

  Since I’m already in the kitchen, I grab us some snacks after filling the water bottles. Some chips, marshmallows and pudding cups for me. A banana and some carrot sticks with spinach dip for her—because she’s into that whole fruits and vegetables thing. I don’t judge.

  When I get back outside, she’s poking around on my laptop, scrolling through my playlist. “Can you please put on some music that doesn’t sound like spring break in Cancun trying to bust its way out of your speakers?”

  I laugh, setting down the food then snatching the computer out of her lap. Iris thanks me for the water and happily munches away on her carrots while I search for music that will please her Majesty.

  We lie beneath the tree with our impromptu picnic. The gentle breeze swirls around us picking up the scent of the flowers and scattering it all throughout the yard, and I watch as Iris closes her eyes next to me. She grins, and inhales a deep breath of fresh air.

  As I’m clicking through folders on my laptop, I come across a folder of old photos from back in the day. A smooth, soulful beat starts pouring through the speakers and Iris doesn’t complain so I let the music flow. I nudge her in the shoulder. “Take a look at these.”

  She scoots closer. I ignore how good she smells as I click through pictures from our old college days. Most of them are from random parties, and people I can’t remember, but we laugh and point out all the famous stomping grounds in the photo backgrounds.

  “Isn’t that Dr. Melvern?” she asks, pointing to a man walking by in the background of one of the photos.

  “Yeah, he was my Intro to Medieval Philosophy professor. I had to take that class twice. I failed both times.”

  “Oh my gosh. I had that one, too. That was the most useless class ever.”

  “Absolutely useless,” I vehemently agree. “ I don't understand why it was even on the curriculum. They could have easily replaced it with something useful. Like How to Do Your Laundry So You Don't Accidentally End Up Turning All your Clothes Pink 101 or How to Clean Your Dorm So It Doesn't Smell Like Sour Milk and Moldy Feet 101.

  Iris giggles next to me, throwing her head back and exposing her gorgeous neck. “Yes! Or, how about How To Survive A Night In The Wilderness When Your Car Breaks Down 101. Or even better, How Not To Be A Selfish Jerk And Make Sure Your Girlfriend Gets Off Now and Then 101.”

  My body stills. What the heck? Did she just say what I think she said? My words are slow, “Would Kirk need to take that class?”

  “Kirk would need to be in the front row in that class,” she says firmly, but then buries her face against my shoulder. “Why did I say that? I shouldn't have said that. Forget you hear
d it.” She tries to laugh it off, but it’s a strained sound.

  “Wait. Are you saying that Kirk never made you...come?”

  Iris doesn’t look up at me. Her head moves from side to side once more. “It’s okay though. We're all built differently. Not all women were wired for orgasms. It doesn’t mean that sex doesn’t still feel...nice.”

  My mind is absolutely blown. Despite what she says, this is not normal.

  Was Kirk really that selfish? And how the hell do you marry someone who can’t get you off?

  “First off, that's bullshit that incompetent men say to justify their incompetence. A man who knows what he's doing will make sure you get there.” I tilt her face up because I need her to see me when I say this next part. “And secondly, we're not talking about all women. We're talking about you,” I emphasize, while my eyes shamelessly scan down her figure. “And there's no way that beautiful body of yours wasn't wired for orgasms, Iris Merlini. You just need the right man to show you.”

  Iris leans a little closer to me, and I don’t even think she’s aware that it’s happening. She’s breathless, and just inches away, when she innocently asks, “Do you know anybody for the job?”

  My cock is the first part of my body that hears the question, perking right the hell up with the shot of blood that arrows through it. But I can’t find the right words to say, so I sit there, dumbfounded.

  Iris buries her face in her hands when I leave her question hanging in the air. “Sorry. Pretend I didn’t say that. Oh god. I’m so embarrassed.”

  Her soft laughter and her sweet scent mix with the music, filling my head. Iris’s beauty runs even deeper beneath the surface. There's no way to convince me a woman like her doesn't deserve a good man. I want her to know that she deserves a man who cherishes her like the moon and the stars. I want her to know that one day some lucky bastard will walk into her life. Hell, I want to volunteer for the position but I know I'm not the right man for the job of loving Iris Merlini.

  Last night, she said it herself. My stay here with her is only temporary. What’s the point in getting her attached to me when in the long run, I’ll be gone? She’s already been through enough. Despite my insane attraction to her, I don’t want to be the next man to hurt her. That would be selfish.

  Sunlight filters through the leaves, playing on her pretty face. She squints up at me. “You’re staring…” she whispers.

  A peachy flush courses up her neck and explodes across her freckled cheeks. She plucks a rose from the nearby bush and twirls it between her fingers.

  I take the flower from her and pull off a single petal. I brush it back and forth along her rosy bottom lip. “I’m just wrapping my head around the fact that you’re just as beautiful after your workout as you are when you get home from the salon.” My tone is serious, not at all like the carefree, playful footballer I usually portray to the world.

  Her shy expression tells me she can’t handle serious right now. The compliment is too much for her. “I guess they didn’t do a very good job at the hair salon then,” she jokes.

  “No. It’s because you don’t need a beauty salon to make you gorgeous.” I brush loose strands of hair from her eyes to fully appreciate her perfect face. “I want you to tell me a secret." My demand comes out as a hoarse whisper. “Tell me something nobody knows about you."

  Her eyes dart away, and she licks her lips nervously. It’s too late. I know that I've lost her. I know she's retreated back into her shell, and I've ruined the moment. That's what I get for being a pushy bastard, for shoving her further than she's able to go. I curse myself inwardly.

  But then, one hand comes up and lays on her chest. A pained look grips her perfect features as she clutches the front of her shirt with her pale fingers. "Sometimes, I'm afraid to breathe." Her diamond eyes widen with the confession. Her words seem to vibrate with grief. "Because my heart hurts so much. Sometimes it feels so fragile. Like the slightest movement will force it to shatter inside my chest."

  “Iris…” Her raw honesty steals my fucking breath.

  A rush of protectiveness invades my gut. I brush my knuckles down the ridge of her cheek. She leans into the touch and mewls like a kitten starved for affection. And at least for that one hot, intimate moment, putting this shattered woman back together becomes my entire life's mission.

  I hear myself groan. "God, I want you so much..."

  I roll over onto my side and cradle her cheek, I lower my face over hers, I nudge her nose with the tip of mine and press our mouths together. She steals in a surprised breath as I gently suck her bottom lip into my mouth and glide my fingers through her hair to cup her skull.

  She tastes sweet like brown sugar and a tiny bit salty from the veggie dip. I taste her need for affection. I taste her desire to have a man's hands on her. I taste her wild urge to lose control.

  Although this feels like heaven, the voice in the back of my head saying don’t take advantage just keeps getting louder and louder and louder, until the guilt is thumping in my head like a second heartbeat.

  I begin to pull away, but Iris takes control. She hooks her little hand around the back of my neck and pushes me down in the grass so she's straddling me.

  She kisses me like a woman with an empty belly and a starving soul. I let her have her fill of me. She needs this. I shift my pelvis, nudging my screaming erection against her core as my hands flirt with the hem of her shorts.

  And now, she's grinding her pussy against me, and her tits spill against my chest. My palms are cradling the curve of her ass, my tongue plunging into her mouth, and my cock thrusting against her mound.

  As she works her hips, she grips my face like she thinks I might just disappear. I squeeze the backs of her supple thighs, silently assuring her that I'm not going anywhere.

  I'd never admit it out loud, but having her this way has always been a fantasy of mine. Her delicate hands touching my skin, her desperate sounds filling my head, and her luscious body riding mine. It’s a fantasy come true.

  We’re a sweaty mess, tangled up in the grass when I hear my cell phone ringing. I’m tempted to ignore it like I’ve been doing lately, but I’m not wild about the possibility of any more friends or family showing up here unannounced in search of me again.

  I locate my phone, buried deep in the pocket of my athletic shorts. I answer just before my voicemail picks up.

  It’s Maxwell checking up on me. “Your drunk ass survived the night, you lightweight! Your hangover must be killer.”

  “I’m alive and well, smartass.”

  Iris is still all over me, running her hands up my chest, nibbling at my throat. She licks the sensitive spot beneath my ear and a helpless sound escapes me. She makes an adorable apologetic face and tries to scoot away but I hold her close and smile at her, with the phone to my ear.

  “You sound…busy,” my teammate chuckles through the phone. “I won’t keep you. Faith’s been on my case about checking in with you again. I tried telling her you were fine, but you know how my wife is. She won’t believe it until she sees you with her own eyes.”

  Maxwell’s wife is one of the good ones. You’ll find her on the sidelines at every home game, supporting her favorite quarterback. She’s gorgeous and fun and she always has her man’s back. She takes the job of loving Maxwell Masters very seriously. For a fraction, I imagine what that kind of devotion must feel like. I glance up at Iris and she gives me a smile that makes my soul thump.

  “We’ll be at our Reyfield home in a couple days,” Maxwell continues, “and I thought you could meet us for dinner.”

  My team captain grew up in Reyfield, a small town just outside of Chicago. It’s about a one hour drive from Crescent Harbor. He and Faith have a mini-mansion there.

  “Yeah, okay. Let’s do that.” My eyes are on Iris as I speak. “Make it a reservation for four. I am bringing…”

  My roommate?

  My friend?

  My makeout buddy?

  Fuck it. I tuck her against my side
and wrap her in my arms like she’s mine, like she always was mine, like she always will be.

  “I’m bringing a date.”

  27

  Jude

  I’ve always struggled with these…”

  I turn to find Iris bent over a flower pot with rapt attention. “What is that?” I ask. My hand falls to the small of her back when I approach her and I can hardly keep from running my fingers down to cup her round ass. Any excuse to touch her. In some weird way, I always seem to feel better these days when my hand is on her body.

  “Orchids.” Her lips hold a wistful smile. “They’re notoriously hard to grow. Almost everybody I know has trouble keeping them alive.” My hand sweeps back and forth on her spine. She doesn’t shrink out of my touch. Instead, she moves a half-step closer.

  Today, we’re huddled in one of my oldest brother’s greenhouses with harvest-ready vegetables blossoming all around us. Yet Iris somehow managed to find the one corner of this place occupied by pretty flowers. That makes me smile.

  Walker strolls between the rows, carefully inspecting his crop. Cannon and Lexi are behind a row of tall sweet pepper planters, making out like high schoolers.

  I’m still not sure exactly why we’re here. All I know is Jessa called this morning and asked us all to meet her after lunch.

  “You having trouble with your orchids?” Walker asks as he moves by us, idly inspecting leaves and plucking weeds from the planters as he goes.

  “Yeah, I can never get them to grow right,” Iris confesses with a sigh. I feel her knuckles brush against mine and I thread our fingers together. We glance at each other and grin.

  A faint smile zips across my brother’s face when he notices but doesn’t call us out on it. His expression quickly smooths back to neutral. “You’re probably overwatering,” Walker says expertly. “Most people usually are. Or it could be the soil.”

  I zone out for a little as my brother turns into an infomercial, educating Iris on the merits of adding different kinds of fertilizer to her soil. Normally, the guy won’t string two sentences together. But get him talking about farming stuff and he won’t shut up.