Balls (Cruz Boys #1)

by Danielle Slater

  It was white and printed on the front was the same tattoo that covered Leo’s chest.

  My pride was growing.

  He tenderly laid it in the crib.

  “Oh, hold on,” he said.

  He grabbed a giant shopping bag off the floor and dug through it and pulled out a little rubber giraffe. He laid it next to the onesie.

  “Babies need to chew on stuff, like a dog.”

  He could’ve stopped before comparing our baby to a dog, but even so, he couldn’t have been cuter.

  He grasped a bar of the crib and gave it a little shake. The whole thing rattled.

  “We should probably get a safety inspector out here to go over this,” he said.

  I giggled. “I think he’d condemn it to demolition.”

  Leo acted shocked, like he wouldn’t stand for such a thing.

  Whether or not the baby crib worked didn’t matter. Not right now anyway. What mattered was how we worked together towards a common goal.

  What mattered was us, not the thing.

  “How about a break, boss?” he asked.

  Warmth sparked between my thighs.

  “What did you have in mind?”

  He swept me off my feet and held me in his arms like a bride about to get the carnal knowing of her husband.

  Like a baby mama about to be claimed yet again.

  Yes, please.

  He carried me through the living room and out onto the balcony. We passed the living room TV droning in the background.

  No.

  I recognized the voice before I understood the words.

  My ex was going off about how horrible my present boyfriend was. Hopefully Leo didn’t hear it. I was looking forward to some time on the couch under the stars.

  He stuttered to a stop.

  Dammit.

  He backed up and stopped in the living room. A huge TV on the wall showed Robert’s idiot face. His lower lip had a big butterfly bandage covering it. Served him right.

  Like he was in a trance, Leo stumbled forward and set my feet on the carpet. I tried to pull him away, but he couldn’t be moved when he didn’t want to be.

  “Come on, let’s go. Nothing this jerk says matters.”

  “Give me a minute,” he said.

  One single minute was how every eternity began.

  Robert opened his busted, stupid mouth.

  “What more evidence does Mr. Garcia need? The Jackal of Spain is a stain on the honor of his federation of soccer.”

  What a dumb ass. Probably thought he was a poet for coming up with that crap.

  A little box appeared in the upper corner and played out the night in front of the bar when Leo told the world that he would be a father. Seeing it now made my heart swell with love and appreciation.

  The grimace on Robert’s face made it clear he didn’t feel the same way.

  “And now we find out he’s gotten some girl pregnant, some girl he’s known for what? A month or two?”

  “Some girl?” I shouted at the screen.

  Now, I was upset.

  “I say to you, Mr. Garcia, President of the Royal Spanish Football Federation, it is time to take action. Why do you continue to defend this criminal?”

  Leo walked over to the TV and reared back. I covered my eyes, expecting to hear the shattered glass where the TV once was. I peeked through my fingers and saw Leo’s fist rocket forward and smash a hole through the wall. He yanked it out and chunks of drywall fell to the floor.

  “Son of a bitch!” he yelled. “What’s with this guy? He’s got some kind of fucking vendetta against me.”

  The ugly face that was ruining both of our lives continued, “Is this the message we’re sending to the world? That a bastard child created by a casual, meaningless encounter is acceptable?”

  Leo’s body tensed and he roared. He tore the TV off the wall and slammed it down on the carpet.

  “Goddammit! Goddammit!” He bellowed as he smashed the gigantic TV over and over until it broke apart. And that still didn’t satisfy him. He grabbed a jagged piece and broke it in two over his knee. He flung the pieces across the room.

  The veins in his neck bulged. His biceps looked like they were about to pop out of his skin.

  “I’m gonna kill him! Rip his head off and shove it up his ass!”

  I stood there frozen. If any other man had done this, I would’ve been cringing in fear. Running away. But for some reason, I felt completely safe with Leo. He never looked my way. He was enraged but keeping—and the baby—away from his anger. Despite the wreckage, I knew I was perfectly safe.

  Still, I’d never seen rage so unhinged. He was an animal.

  And then I realized: he was a lion protecting his pride.

  He slammed his fist through the wall creating a matching crater. He yanked it free and turned to me.

  Fire burned in his eyes.

  “Marry me,” he said.

  I almost fell over.

  Where did that come from?

  He took both of my hands in his. His knuckles were a mess of cut flesh and blood. He didn’t seem to care.

  “I’m not kidding, Alex,” he said. “I will not allow the world to think of our child as a bastard. Never.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I’d never read about this kind of proposal in a fairytale. Those had different elements involved like a guy bending down on one knee and discussion of true love. Things like that.

  Not blind, protective rage.

  “I appreciate how you feel about it,” I said. “But getting married as a response to how other people view our lives isn’t a good reason.”

  He didn’t blink.

  “Marry me.”

  He wasn’t used to taking no for an answer. And I wasn’t used to giving it in this situation. The only other time I’d remotely been in it I’d said yes, and I should’ve said no.

  “Leo, you’re hurt,” I said. “Don’t let him get to you. He’s nothing to us. What we have is ours and only ours. The rest of the world can go suck a bag of dicks as far as I’m concerned.”

  A laugh bubbled up through the anger in his throat.

  “A bag of dicks, huh?”

  It wasn’t one of my usual lines. It was more Megan’s style than mine. But it fit the situation.

  “I’m serious. How we live our lives is our choice. We don’t owe anyone anything, especially not my asshole ex.”

  Leo hugged me to his chest and squeezed me so tight I thought my lungs were collapsing.

  “I’ll never let anyone hurt you,” he said. “I’ll never let anyone hurt our baby.”

  I knew he wouldn’t.

  In my heart of hearts, I knew my growing family was safe in his protective embrace.

  But I’d been wrong once before.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Leonardo

  A week had passed since the night I’d asked Alex to marry me. Ask maybe wasn’t quite the right word. I had a few new scars from dismantling the TV. I’d get a few more the next time I ran into Alex’s ex.

  Camp Nou stadium was packed all the way to the nosebleed seats. This was the biggest friendly match we’d played yet in our schedule moving toward the opening round of the World Cup next summer.

  Germany.

  The score was two to two and the second half was about to begin. I stared across the pitch at the large center striker on the German team. My old friend, Bastian Kramer.

  I already had two goals under my belt to his one. But I was determined to make it three to both take the game and show that son of a bitch who was the king of the jungle.

  Rodrigo smacked the back of my head.

  “Head in the game, amigo. Don’t let that giant German bastard get to you.”

  I snarled at the man who’d fooled the world with his image makeover. He was a piece of shit and I knew it, even if the world didn’t.

  He blew me a kiss.

  I so wanted to flip him the bird, but I knew it would be broadcast on international TV and I definitely didn’
t need any more bad press.

  Rumor was that Mr. Garcia was about to slap me down with a three-game suspension. One more misstep and my campaign for the Cup could be in permanent jeopardy.

  The whistle blew and Rodrigo touched the ball to me.

  I dug my cleats into the soft turf and shot forward, straight at Bastian. I was going to make him look like a fool. I was going to clown him in front of the world.

  I wove my foot around and in the front of the ball in dizzying spirals of feints and soft touches. Right before I got to him, I juked right, then back left.

  The first one got him going right, then back left when he thought he had me figured out. His stance widened as he struggled to stay on his feet.

  I tapped the ball through his legs and cut hard right, throwing him aside as I passed.

  I rejoined the ball and sprinted down the field.

  That was going to be gorgeous on the instant replay.

  I looked up and saw an open lane. If I timed it right, I could take the ball all the way to goal and finish it.

  All I had to do was—

  My right knee exploded in agony.

  The full power of a well-aimed kick took me to the turf. I crumbled over the ball and rolled end over end to a stop.

  Oh no.

  Oh God, please no.

  I knew this pain.

  I knew this torture.

  A ragged knife ripped through my knee.

  It was destroyed. Felt like the ACL was torn in half. Five months rehab, best-case scenario.

  Through gritted teeth and the knife stabbing my knee, I squinted up at Bastian. He held his hand out and winked.

  I tried to stand and crashed back down in agony. My knee was done.

  Rodrigo flew at Bastian and bowled him over backwards.

  The whistle blew hard, again and again. The ref jumped between Rodrigo and Bastian doing his best to keep some semblance of control.

  I rolled over and saw Alex trying to storm the field. Two of the other wives or girlfriends managed to hold her back. Her eyes were wild with fear.

  Our trainers came out with a stretcher.

  They never came out with a stretcher unless they knew it was bad.

  “Get that Goddamn thing away from me!”

  There was no chance in hell I was being carted off like roadkill. If my legs got taken off at the knees, I’d crawl off the field on my stomach.

  “Help me up!”

  They each got under a shoulder and hefted me to my feet.

  I touched my right foot to the grass and put the tiniest bit of weight on it.

  It felt like Conan the Barbarian had shoved his giant sword through my leg.

  My teeth nearly ground to dust I bit so hard through the torture.

  Bastian stood off to the side, grinning like a piece of shit.

  I nearly launched at him to rip his head off, but I knew my knee would collapse and I’d do no more than crash to the ground like a felled ox.

  The trainers supported me as I hopped toward the sideline. Every contact my left foot made echoed and sent a sharp shooting pain up my right.

  My brain was numb with pain … rage … anguish.

  Would this end my World Cup dreams?

  Would I still be in top form four years from now when the next one rolled around? Thirty-two was over the hill in this sport that catered to young legs.

  I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t think.

  I’d been here before, down at the bottom of the dark well with a pinhole of light so far above that you knew you’d never make it back up.

  We passed Alex as the trainers helped me hop to the locker room. Tears streamed down her face.

  I hated that I’d been reduced to such weakness in front of the entire world.

  But mostly, I hated that I’d been so completely conquered in front of Alex.

  I turned away and focused on taking one more step, on hiding from everyone before I passed out.

  I almost made it.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Alexis

  Three weeks of seclusion and moping around wasn’t going well for Leo. You’d think hanging out in the poshest suite the W Hotel had to offer would make anyone the happiest person on the planet.

  Nope.

  I was no longer employed, which worked out well because it was a full-time job keeping Leo from falling into a deep depression.

  Deeper depression.

  He sat in his underwear in the living room watching TV. A new TV. A mound of pillows on the ottoman kept his right leg elevated.

  He’d graduated to being able to walk around with crutches yesterday and I was hoping that would improve his mood.

  No such luck.

  He was all doom and gloom.

  I wasn’t feeling particularly rosy either.

  We hadn’t had sex more than a handful of times since the day of the injury.

  At first, it was because the slightest movement had him twisted up in pain. But even when he was able to be carted around in a wheelchair, my every advance was met with blank disinterest.

  He wasn’t mean about it.

  He just wasn’t there. The Leo I knew was buried so deep I began to fear I’d never see him again.

  “You hungry?” I asked. “I could make a sandwich or something.”

  “Nah,” he said. He didn’t even turn his head to acknowledge me. He stared blankly at the screen watching a soccer game.

  Fortunately, it wasn’t the Spanish national team. They’d played once since his injury and he had been an absolute bear the rest of the day.

  “Come on,” I said. “You skipped breakfast and it’s past lunchtime. You need to eat.”

  “Nah.”

  That was my life lately. Trying to communicate with a monosyllabic mask of a man.

  And I was fed up to higher than I could reach with it.

  I stepped into his vacant line of sight and he stared impassively like it didn’t matter.

  “I won’t let you waste away, Leo.”

  He turned his head and looked out the window at the harbor and the city of Barcelona beyond. A city that mourned for his loss and rooted for his recovery, if he would just listen.

  But I knew better than anyone, listening wasn’t his strong suit.

  Words weren’t going to get to him.

  Unless they were the right words. The right words that went along with the right actions. I needed actions that could bypass words and connect with him on a level that couldn’t be ignored.

  An idea came to me. Something scary and thrilling.

  Something that might break through to him.

  I walked over to a drawer and grabbed the pair of scissors we used to change his dressing each day.

  I marched over and knelt in front of him.

  He’d already resumed his zombie devotion to the game.

  I gently slid his left leg to the side and scooted between his legs.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, his eyes still glued to the screen.

  “Don’t mind me,” I said. “Watch your game.”

  I pulled the elastic band of his underwear out and angled the scissors to get at it.

  “Stop,” he said. “Just stop it.”

  I held the scissors like a knife.

  “Leonardo Cruz, God help me, I will stab you in the eye if you don’t sit there and shut up!”

  I was not taking no for an answer!

  He rolled his eyes and went back to watching the game.

  Good.

  I sliced through his cotton underwear and peeled away the fabric covering his limp, and yet still massive, cock.

  I picked it up like a length of rope and gave it a little tug.

  “Alex, please,” he said.

  I jabbed the air in front of his face with the scissors.

  “I’m not kidding, Leo. Shut your mouth and watch the game.”

  He exhaled deeply and did as he was told.

  I lifted his member and leaned down to lick his balls. He had a big set
of balls. I wasn’t usually into balls to be honest, but this pair was unlike any other.

  This pair made a baby inside me. These balls were mine.

  I tongued and bobbled them around in my mouth. After a few minutes of focused attention, his lifeless cock twitched.

  That was a hopeful sign. The flatlined patient showing signs of life.

  I spat in my hand and stroked his shaft.

  A familiar, delicious warmth stirred between my thighs. It had been such a stupid forever since I’d been stretched by his girth. Okay, only a few days, but that felt like forever.

  He was going to satisfy me one way or another. I wasn’t a quitter.

  His cock slowly took on its more familiar shape. Big and strong. Hard as stone.

  I stroked him and tongued his balls. The musky scent of his manhood filled my lungs.

  My core squeezed tight and wetness soaked through my panties.

  I slipped my mouth around the flared head and sucked him into my throat. I held his shaft at the base with one hand and massaged his balls with the other.

  I slid all the way down, taking him onto my tonsils. I gagged and choked and still didn’t let up.

  He liked seeing me work for it. His hand ran through my hair and cupped the back of my head.

  “Oh, God, Alex.”

  I backed off and let him pop out like a finger popping the inside of your cheek.

  “Keep your hands at your sides,” I said. “And your eyes on the game. I’ve already told you that. Don’t make me say it again.”

  Flickering coals burned in his eyes.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I took him back into my mouth and made sure every millimeter was licked clean like it would soon be received by the Queen of England at a high-society luncheon.

  A few more minutes of attention and I had that beautiful cock straining with tight skin.

  I stood up and took a few steps back, making sure he still had a clear line of sight to the screen.

  His eyes darted to me.

  “Eyes on the game!”

  I slipped out of my tank top and shorts and let them drop to the floor. I unclasped my bra and dropped it as well. I was seriously going to have to invest in the next size up in the near future.

  I rubbed the growing bump of my belly and slid my hand down into my panties.