Million Baller Baby: A Secret Baby, Second Chance, Sports Romance (Bad Boy Ballers Book 1)

by Rie Warren

  Not a bikini and definitely no such thing as a tankini.

  What she revealed made me drool. Her aqua blue bathing suit stretched like a slingshot of meshy, shiny fabric from her pussy to her tits, revealing hips and side-boob and a whole lotta flesh in between.

  Looking up from spreading out a beach blanket while I simply gawked at Peyton, Liv gushed, “OH EM GEE! Love your monokini.”

  Monokini. That was what it was. Consider me an instant fan.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sneak Attack

  Rafe

  “JUST FOR THE RECORD, you’re never wearing one of those,” I whispered quietly to Liv, and she screwed up her nose at me.

  Could not stop staring at Peyton, though. I was supposed to set up beach chairs, the umbrella . . . whatever.

  The bare length of her spine captivated me, and that dip at her waist before her hips swelled goddamn mesmerized me. Not to mention . . . was that a tat on her lower back?

  A big boner was gonna be hard to hide inside my board shorts, but I wouldn’t trade one single second of having Pey with me.

  In the slingshot bathing suit thing that made my skin tighten all over my body. And in one specifically dangerous place.

  Holy hell.

  Somehow I managed to keep my erection under control.

  I got Ma settled in her chair.

  I wiped off Liv’s boogie board.

  Refused to look at Pey again. Not until I could give her my full attention without a full-on raging hard-on.

  Finally in control of my urges, I spun around to find Peyton oiling herself up.

  So not in control.

  Reclining on a blanket, she bent one leg at the knee, massaging sunscreen into her shimmering skin.

  “Lemme help you with that.” Fuck yeah.

  I wanted to slather the cream all over her body—would be better if it was my come—but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and I’d take what I could get.

  Just wanted my hands on her.

  She slipped her sunglasses down her nose and peered at me. “No chance.”

  I advanced closer. “Oh really.”

  Leaping to her feet, she threw the bottle of lotion at me. I batted it easily away.

  “Rafe”—retreating in the sun-hot white sand, she held her hands up to ward me off—“I’m warning you.”

  “That right?”

  The chase was on.

  I lunged at Peyton, barely connecting with her slippery skin before she bolted toward the dunes.

  Seagulls and pelicans scattered. Liv shouted from the shoreline. My ma held up her own fancy phone, most likely snapping photos. She’d probably figured out the video thing by now, too.

  Sand spit into my face from Peyton’s fast feet, but my legs were longer, my reach stronger. When I caught up to her, I hauled her to me with my arms around her waist.

  It only took two more moves to spin her around and lift her over my shoulder.

  “Put me down, Rafe!” she squealed.

  “No chance.”

  Bypassing Liv, who shouted “Team Rafe! Team Rafe!”, I jogged into the ocean with my precious cargo kicking her feet. The warm water and rolling waves foamed up to my waist, and I threatened to catapult Peyton from my arms.

  “Don’t you dare!” Fuming, she clutched onto me.

  I relented at the last moment. Sliding her down the front of my body—my pumping chest, my hard cock, my wet legs—I swooped in for a fast kiss of her lips. A taste. A salty teaser.

  That one single moment was more hot, more intense than any other in my life.

  We stared too long. Touched full length.

  Her nipples pebbled against the thin material of her suit and pressed against me, and her ragged breaths matched mine.

  Silent seconds passed as her half-mast gaze hooked me.

  Until she scooped up a handful of water and splashed me full in the face.

  “Bring it, Miss Fox.” I shook streams of water from my head then lunged for her.

  For the next half hour we tussled, swam, basked in the sun. Wet and slippery, we were pushed together by the waves, pulled apart by the tide.

  Finally swimming away from me, she stood in the shallows. Water cascaded down her back as she flipped her hair over her shoulder—a deeper copper color—and rung it out. Walking with a roll of her hypnotic hips, she toed her way across the seashells toward the umbrella.

  I wanted to grab that hair in my fist, bend her over, and ram her hard with my cock.

  After watching her ass, her back, her softly rounded shoulders and strong legs until my mouth dried up and my dick lurched in my wet shorts, I dragged myself away from the sight of her. Propelling myself through incoming waves with deep lunges, I hoped to race through the lust-hunger thundering inside me.

  I managed to cool down and tried to keep my eyes off Peyton’s shimmering sleek form when I returned to the beach. Liv proved to be a good distraction—the two of us spent an hour down near the tidal pool, building a massive sand castle.

  Unfortunately the distraction failed when Peyton wandered over and began decorating the perfectly formed turrets with seashells she’d collected.

  Unable to handle being so close to her and that monokini any longer, I suggested we all head to the house.

  I needed a cold shower pronto.

  I led Peyton upstairs after grabbing her bag, our hands brushing together sending that same hot sizzle coursing through my body.

  “You can shower up in here.” I guided her into my room, giving it a quick once over.

  I’d changed the sheets, made the bed, tidied the fuck up . . .

  Dammit. I’d missed a pair of briefs on the floor.

  Swiftly kicking them under the bed while Peyton inspected the ocean view outside the tall windows, I said, “Bathroom’s through that door. I put out fresh towels for you.”

  And dammmn, Peyton looked good in my bedroom when she spun to face me. “This is your room?”

  “Mmm.” My gaze lingered on her body and that goddamn bikini-thing.

  “What about you?” she asked, strolling closer.

  “Are you inviting me to join you in the shower?” Because if so I was in danger of shredding my shorts with my rapidly hardening cock.

  “Maybe.” She blushed deliciously.

  Drawing her straight against me, I brushed a light kiss over her smooth, slightly salty lips. “Trust me, darlin’. If my mom and Liv weren’t here I’d have us both stripped down and you soaking wet in ten seconds flat.”

  Her fingertips made small circles through the black hair on my chest, and I cursed quietly. “Who says you haven’t already made me wet?”

  I barely refrained from mauling her. She had to feel the solid bar of my cock hot and throbbing and pressing against her belly.

  “I’d love to find out.” My palms skimmed to her hips, but she pulled back an inch.

  Her cheeks flushed even more. “I suppose this happens a lot.”

  “What?”

  Her bare feet overlapping, she shrugged. “Having women over. And I don’t mean your mom and Liv.”

  I tilted her chin beneath my knuckles, lifting her eyes to mine. “Peyton Fox, you’re the first woman who’s ever been in this bedroom. I swear.”

  She whimpered once then I crushed her against me. The floodgates opened and our lips slid together. She gripped the back of my neck. I hauled her up and wrapped her legs around my waist. Our hot tongues tangled, tasted. And I was so close to slamming her against the wall. Her grinding hips were making me crazy.

  When she started nibbling my neck with her soft moist mouth I had to break away before I ripped her suit off and tackled her to the floor.

  Fuck me. Her nipples were making peaks in the material of that sexy blue suit, so hard I could think of nothing but sucking them.

  “Rafe.”

  “Huh?”

  “You’re staring at my boobs.”

  I stared some more. Mighta drooled, too. “Because I want them in my mouth.”


  When she started untying the string behind her neck, I pivoted away. “Fuck. Don’t test me, Pey.”

  I heard the wet slap of her suit hitting the floor, and it took the last shred of my willpower to keep my eyes glued straight ahead. Struggling to breathe deeply enough for air to actually inflate my lungs, I stood like a wooden soldier. A very stiff wooden soldier.

  And when I felt her bare tits—warm from the sun—brush against my back, I jerked forward as if burned.

  “Now I gotta go cool down before I do something everyone will hear.” I rushed out of the room, her smoky laughter following me all the way.

  Hurrying downstairs, I stripped off and dove into the outside shower, hitting that shit on straight-up ice cold. No joy. Even the icy prickles of water couldn’t deflate my cock.

  Stupid fucking appendage.

  I stood under that damn water for minutes, hands braced against the wall, breathing like Akoni had just tackled me to the ground.

  Thoughts of Akoni—the big sensitive Hawaiian—proved to be excellent anti-boner material.

  Thank fuck for that.

  After drying off, getting dressed, and combing my fingers through my hair, I arrived in the kitchen at the same time as Peyton.

  Her hair swung down around her shoulders, still damp. She wasn’t wearing any makeup except maybe some lip-gloss, and she was even more stunning au naturel. In a soft patterned sundress that floated around her delicious curves, she had me drooling all over again. And in a perpetual state of horniness.

  Think of Akoni. Think of Akoni doing the haka naked . . .

  Ew.

  Probably didn’t need to go that far.

  “May I help?” she asked, acting the perfect lady, not the sexy vixen who’d nearly had me blowing my wad without even touching me mere minutes earlier.

  I narrowed my eyes at her.

  She lifted her hand in a little wave.

  “Not at all, honey. That’s what we have Rafe for.” My mom smiled in Peyton’s direction while I switched my glare to Ma. “You’re a guest.”

  By the time we all settled down at the table on the deck—the glow from the sunset turning the Atlantic into a shimmering pink and orange seascape—I was just about ready to ask Peyton to marry me.

  Specifically so we could skip straight to the honeymoon, of course.

  Riiiiiight.

  We all dug in, Peyton exclaiming after her first mouthful of food, “This is delicious.”

  “Thank you.” I was just damn glad she wasn’t a vegetarian after all.

  Then Ma kicked me under the table.

  And I mumbled, “My mom made the potato salad.”

  “I made the green salad,” Liv chimed in.

  The conversation carried on during the meal, but I only heard the sound of Peyton’s musical voice as she chatted with my mom and Liv.

  She was vibrant, lively. Witty and drop-dead gorgeous. I couldn’t stop sneaking glimpses at her, and I damn near forgot to eat.

  I’d piped the tunes from the iPod outside, and picking up on the latest—“How Sweet It Is”—by Marvin Gaye, Peyton said, “Oh. This was one of my dad’s favorites.”

  “My mom digs the Motown classics.” I smiled at Peyton, hoping the memory of her father was a good one.

  Thinking maybe I could add to it.

  I rose to my feet and offered her my hand. “Care to dance, milady?”

  “I do believe my dance card is open.”

  With our bodies brushing together, and Peyton completely inside the circle of my arms, we moved slowly around the deck. Dancing around the table and gliding toward the fire pit, I was fully aware of our captive audience. Even Liv stopped talking long enough to stare while the music floated over us and Peyton linked her hands behind my neck.

  “This is nice,” she murmured. “I like it.”

  I tilted my head, barely touching her soft ear with my lips. “What else do you like?”

  Her breath shuddered, and I felt her little exhales on the skin of my throat before she answered. “Pretty sure you know.”

  When the song ended, I escorted Peyton back to the table. Ma and Liv clapped wildly before Ma pushed back her chair.

  “You wanna go around the dancefloor too?” I held my hand out to her.

  “Save that for your young lady.” She winked. “I was thinking Liv and I should hit the road.”

  “Tonight? You’re not supposed to leave until the morning.”

  “It’s only a couple of hours.”

  “Moooom!” Liv pouted.

  “Ma.” I frowned at her. “You know I don’t like you driving at night.”

  Shut up, asshole. Alone time with Peyton.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Quarterback’s Sack

  Peyton

  DAMN RAFE AND HIS concern for his mom, which made my heart—yup—flip-flop.

  And damn him for his gorgeous ass. And those board shorts.

  Not to mention the white linen shirt half buttoned, the deeply muscled chest, the bare feet, the faded jeans . . .

  The family man I’d hung out with today was not the pussy hound I expected. Not the guy I thought I’d caught in the act with Kelley-Anne the Cheerleader.

  “Who said anything about night drivin’? It’s evening.” Gracie reached up to ruffle Rafe’s black hair. “And as for you, young lady—” She leaned over and whispered quickly in Liv’s ear.

  Liv’s eyes popped wide, but her mouth clamped shut.

  The Family Macintyre was proving to be very entertaining indeed.

  Watching Rafe tromp up and down the stairs then outside to pack the car, I said my goodbyes, a guilty tug to my heart.

  “Peyton, it was purely a pleasure to meet you, hon.” Rafe’s mom hugged me and bussed both my cheeks. “Now, that boy of mine works hard, but he probably doesn’t play as hard as you might think.”

  She patted my shoulder before walking outside.

  “You’re such a baller chick, Miss Peyton.” Liv’s shout from right beside me nearly burst my ear drum. “Be nice to my bro, and make sure he honors the swear jar.”

  Swear jar?

  Following Liv outside, I stood on the upper deck, looking down at the family scene with new admiration for Rafe swelling my heart.

  He met his mom at her car after slamming the trunk closed.

  “I like her.” Her words drifted up to me. “A lot. And a redhead too. She’s got moxie. Don’t fu—don’t mess it up, Mister.”

  “I don’t intend to, Ma.” He turned to Liv and grabbed her in his arms, kissing the top of her head. “Don’t forget to practice your throws.”

  “I’ve got football camp this week so I’m all over that.”

  “Fu—frigging right you do.” He helped her into the Toyota before turning one last time to his mom.

  “I gassed up your car this morning. Checked the oil too.” He kissed her then handed her in and shut the door.

  Then he rapped on her window until she rolled it down. “And get Liv to text me on the road, hear me?”

  Goddamn it. I almost teared up, watching him watch his mom drive off like a big guard dog.

  Retreating inside the house, I navigated to the kitchen and opened the white pastry box I’d brought. I knew I should probably cut out of here, too—do the smart thing—but Phil had Cal for the night so I was free for the moment. Callum. Damn. I’d barely been able to keep his car seat hidden from Rafe when I arrived. This whatever between Rafe and me was such a bad idea, but I was helpless to stop the attraction anymore.

  Setting the fresh-made, frosted-high cupcakes on a plate, I was just licking icing off my fingertips when Rafe came up behind me.

  He didn’t touch me, but the contact was close enough I felt the heat rolling off his body. His mere presence sent shivers down my spine.

  When he peeked over my shoulder, his breath against my neck made my body feel all hot and swollen.

  “Not sure that’s kosher with my dietary guidelines.” His voice rumbled.

  “P
lease.” I sidled from the press of his body before I choked on my own breath. “Like you’ve got an ounce of fat you need to worry about.”

  “You been studying my form, Mizz Fox?” Smoldering forest green eyes dipped to mine.

  “It is inside my professional purview.” Sinking a fingertip into one frosted top, I brought the rich chocolate to my mouth, marveling at the luxurious dark taste. “Besides, I’m sure we can find a way to work off the excess calories.”

  His eyes darkened even more. “Bring it.”

  Danger. I was courting it.

  “You want some of this?” I dragged my finger back through the chocolate icing.

  His hand snapped out and he snatched my wrist. My heart stuttered in my chest when he took my finger between his firm lips. My pussy fluttered when his mouth closed, his tongue slowly licked, and he groaned around my flesh between his lips.

  Releasing my finger with a last lap, he kissed my palm. “Not sure what tastes better. You or the frosting.”

  I reached for one of the cupcakes and took a large bite. Licking the gooey crumbs off my lips, I held the remainder out to him, and—unbelievably—he demolished the rest in two huge bites.

  “Want more?” I asked, delicately licking my fingertips.

  His breath seemed to halt before becoming fast and ragged. “Nope.”

  “I like your house.”

  “I like you,” he said.

  I could tell he purposefully refrained from touching me. From kissing me. From dragging me against him.

  His muscles tensed until he blew out a long breath. “You wanna go for a walk on the beach?”

  “Not really, no.”

  His face suddenly sharpened with a hungry look that made my thighs clench, my sex throb.

  “What do you want?” Rafe’s deep husky timbre drew a tingling line from my nipples to my pussy.

  Being with him tonight could be the second biggest mistake of my life, but I was tired of playing by the rules.

  Besides . . . his bedroom eyes.

  Should be criminal.

  “You,” I answered.

  Rafe’s head cranked back. His hands balled at his sides. He swallowed deeply before lowering his head again. The next thing I knew, he swept me up into his arms and started stalking at a fast clip through the house.