Baller Made (Bad Boy Ballers Book 3)

by Rie Warren

  Coach D departed, but Peyton snagged Delaney’s arm as she passed by. “Hey, Laney. You remember Reggie, right? Calder’s sister-in-law.”

  “Of course. Met her at the practice grounds.” Delaney’s long black hair shone beneath the lights. The beer lights, that was. She focused on me. “Calder might’ve mentioned you a time or two before as well.”

  “Mentioned me? I hope only good things?” I shook her hand.

  “The best. Plus, I like Calder. He’s kind of a quiet . . . storm, isn’t he?”

  “Yes,” I murmured. “That’s exactly what he is.”

  Rafe and Peyton had sidled off without me even realizing it, leaving Delaney and me in a small bubble at the bar. I waited for awkwardness to settle in, but it didn’t.

  “Congrats on the Artemis League win. That’s amazing.”

  “Thanks. We’re pumped about it. But it might’ve been my last game, at least for a while. Brooklyn and I want to try to start a family.”

  “I wish you all the luck in the world.”

  “What about you? Any kids?”

  “No.” I frowned. “No. Chris and I never . . .”

  “I’m sorry,” Delaney clasped my hand. “That was rude or, at least, really stinkin’ nosy.”

  “Don’t apologize. It’s easier to talk about than to hide away from what happened to me. I just wish Calder felt the same.”

  “About you? He does.”

  I peered at her in shock.

  “It’s in the way you two look at each other.” She shrugged. “Trust me. I tried to fight it with Brooks from day one and that obviously didn’t work.” She flashed the engagement ring at me. “And I am so damn glad it didn’t. I don’t think I’d have learned to love again without him. Calder needs that too.”

  “Does everyone know?”

  She snorted. “Nah. Dudes are pretty much clueless.”

  On that I had to agree, and we clinked bottles right when Calder—still dancing with Raquel—crossed our line of sight.

  I tried like hell to keep the sour feelings curdling in my stomach at bay.

  This was his night. His team’s night. And we hadn’t made any promises to one another.

  Delaney followed my stare. “You know you don't have to worry about that, right?”

  I’d thought so, but now I wasn’t so sure anymore.

  I nursed my beer, lying through my teeth. “Oh, I know.”

  “Besides, Raquel gave Calder plenty of opportunity to jump her bones, and he didn’t even consider it.”

  My heart lifted a little.

  “And”—Delaney continued—“pretty much every guy here is gagging for a chance to dance with you.”

  “Well, why hasn’t anyone asked me yet?”

  Leaning in, she whispered, “They're scared of Calder. Wimps.”

  “I can fix that.” I placed my beer on the bar and sauntered right over to Deacon Cross.

  He was older than the rest, not a silver fox yet, but in his prime and definitely handsome in his own quiet way.

  I touched the defensive tackle on the arm, drawing his attention away from several guys who’d all been shooting the shit. “Would you care to dance?”

  He took one look at me, glanced over at Calder, who watched while pretending not to watch, and took my palm in his. “Damn right I would.”

  Deacon held me securely, just like he’d cradled the football when he crossed the end zone in that amazing interception play at the end of the game. Perhaps a bit more delicately than the football since he didn’t try to spike me into the floor.

  “You’re not married yet?” I asked.

  “Waiting for a sweet lady to snap me up.” A wide smile spread his lips, and he had boyish dimples on both cheeks.

  “I’m surprised that hasn’t already happened.” I flirted lightly.

  He chuckled. “Calder ain’t gonna like this.”

  “Really?”

  “You should see the way he’s staring at us right now.”

  “So, who should I ask next?”

  “Buckley. Definitely,” Deacon advised.

  “Oh, you’re bad.”

  “You know it.”

  So I did as Deacon suggested and asked Buckley for the next dance. That time it was a two-step, but the cute Nebraska boy with the blond good looks knew exactly how to lead me into the dance. He’d also been taken on by Carolina Crush the same time as Calder.

  I wondered if my roomie had steam blowing out of his ears yet.

  Guess what?

  When Buckley murmured his next move so I’d be ready, we swept by Calder who definitely was not dancing with Raquel anymore.

  “So you were a Cornhusker?” I ignored Calder, pinning my attention on Luke Buckley.

  “Yeah.” Buckley grinned. “Got tired of all the corn and wanted to spend some time on the coast.”

  “Are you having a good season?”

  He turned me effortlessly then rolled me back into his arms. “Getting drafted is the number one win. Hit a few bumps in the road though. My own fault. I’ve got a big mouth.”

  “You’ll grow into it.”

  “I’ve already grown into something else that’s pretty big. Wanna find out?” His light blue eyes glinted with teasing humor.

  “Now I see what your teammates meant.” I grinned, the song coming to a close. “Who should I dance with next?”

  “If you’re trying to get under Calder’s skin, just stick with me.”

  “But what if I want to play the field?”

  “Bunyan. He’s had a hankering for you since that show in Vegas.” He held my hand a moment longer. “Good luck. Calder’s one of the good guys.”

  I approached big Bunyan, tapping on his shoulder to draw his attention.

  He spun toward me, doffing an imaginary cowboy hat. “How do, little lady. I’m Paul Biggs, what can I do you for?”

  “I know who you are, Bunyan.”

  “You do?” He crossed his arms over his chest but bashfully looked down at his size-huge feet.

  It was cute.

  “I do. And I was wondering if you’d like to dance with me?”

  “I think I can accommodate you.” He winked. “Just don’t pull any of those fancy showgirl moves on me. On second thought, maybe you should do that.” He wiggled his eyebrows while I laughed.

  Guiding me out onto the floor then pulling me close—friendly close, not boundary-pushing close—Paul made me feel safe and soft and a little bit like a vixen.

  He swayed with me, broad shoulders shifting under my palms.

  “Calder’s gonna kill me for this,” he murmured near my ear.

  “His fault, not yours.”

  “So you want me dead?”

  “No. Of course not!”

  “I’m kidding.” He towered over me, his arm wrapped around my waist. “I’m bigger than that little shit anyway.”

  I shook my head, laughing.

  After the next set of turns that took us across the dancefloor, I glanced up. “I have a question for you.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Do you really have a blue ox, Bunyan?”

  Lifting me off my feet, he swung me around. “Nope, babe. But you are one fine fox.”

  “Smooth words.”

  “Got some smooth moves too.” He dipped me, completely supporting me.

  As soon as he easily drew me back up, I tapped his chest. “Paul Biggs. Why hasn’t some lucky lady snapped you up already?”

  “Saving myself for you.”

  I laughed lightly.

  On the next spin, I saw Calder.

  Flat glare. Tightlipped smile.

  Uh oh. And oh yay.

  About damn time he paid attention and staked his claim.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Cracking Skulls

  Calder

  THAT MADE THREE DAMN dances in a row between Reggie and Bunyan. Hell yes, I was keeping count. As soon as she’d sauntered over to Cross and he guided her onto the dancefloor, I’d been watching her like a
hawk.

  First Cross, then Buckley. One dance each. But Bunyan was another story, and they just kept on a’dancin’. Her smiling and laughing, him grinning and flirting. Good thing he kept his hands well away from the T & A zone, or I’d have to break them off at the wrists. And that’d be the end of Big Man Bunyan’s NFL career.

  I took another gulp of ice cold water then crunched through a couple of cubes with my teeth. Brooks appeared in front of me, and I almost knocked him aside to regain my view of Reggie.

  “What’s up, my man?” Brooklyn slid to the side.

  “Nothin’.” I chewed out the words like I’d chewed up the ice.

  But I straightened up a little more when Bunyan twirled Reggie the full length of his arm. That damn shirt I’d bought her. Her nipples were hard. Better be because of the A/C.

  Brooks rubbed a hand over his beard, and I could feel him squinting at me. “Is that why it looks like you’re about to go nuclear?”

  “I’m perfectly goddamn calm.” I slammed the glass down as Reggie tossed her head back, all those soft silky brown curls almost reaching Bunyan’s hand at her waist.

  “Obviously.”

  “I’m kinda busy here.”

  “Mm hmm. Real busy. Glaring. I can see that. But I don’t think Reggie gives a shit.”

  “Fine. I don’t like the way Bunyan’s all over her.” I snarled.

  “Looks pretty tame to me.” Brooks took a swig of his beer.

  “Bullshit. Bunyan’s maybe not a player, but anyone with two eyes and half a brain can figure out he’s into her.”

  “Then why don’t you cut in if you wanna dance with her so much?”

  I spun my glare on him, but Brooks didn’t flinch. He merely shrugged and went back to his beer.

  “Fuck it.” Heading off across the floor, I tried to take measured easy strides.

  Prowling anger lengthened my steps. My jaw was tight. My muscles bunched. I didn’t want Reggie dancing with anyone else for the rest of the night.

  I blew out a deep breath before approaching her and Bunyan, the depth of my blood-red jealousy making me feel too reckless.

  I clapped a hand on Bunyan’s shoulder . . . instead of punching him in the smiling face.

  He looked over at me. “Hey, dude. We were just talking about that killer play you called.”

  Some of my anger cooled, but I still wanted his hands off Reggie’s body pronto.

  I glanced at Reggie. “I believe you owe me a dance.” I’d reached the limit of my patience with all the laughing and flirting and groping.

  “I thought you’d never ask.” She turned to Bunyan. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Not if I can claim you for one more later.” He lifted her hand to his mouth while I gritted my teeth.

  “He’s not gonna claim you for anything,” I muttered while I led her into a dance.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothin’.” I cinched her to me, tighter than I would’ve deemed acceptable with any other man.

  The song was sizzlingly slow. Reggie felt incredibly good. Soft against my hardness. And I was fucking hard as a baseball bat.

  I was angry. Hot for her. Especially feeling her in my arms exactly where she should always be. Her hands roamed over my back, her tits rubbed against my chest, and my cock nestled against her belly.

  “You’re pissed?” She lifted dark and dilated eyes to mine.

  Tucking a hand under her hair, at the nape of her neck, I tipped her face further back. “Why would I be pissed off?”

  “You think I was trying to make you jealous.”

  “Weren’t you?” Our bodies brushed together, the heat amplifying.

  “I just wanted to dance. You were otherwise occupied.” A hard light entered her irises.

  “Already told you there’s nothing between Raquel and me.”

  She snorted. “And you think there’s something between me and men I hardly know because of a few harmless dances?”

  Tightening my hold on her, I listened to her sharp gasp when my hard-on dragged even more powerfully against her. “It’s not harmless when it makes me feel—”

  Her fingers curled around the side of my neck, her thumb rubbing the heavy stubble and nearly tearing a groan from my throat. “Feel what?”

  My grip shifted and I lowered my mouth to her ear, growling out, “I just wanna make sure every other guy in here knows the deal.”

  “What deal is that?”

  “That I’ll bury any man six feet under for daring to touch you the way I want to.” The words rumbled harsh and fast before I could rethink them.

  Shock hit us both at the same time. Six feet under.

  I loosened my hands, stumbling back. “Jesus Christ, Reggie I didn’t mean that.”

  “Yes, you did.” She gripped my wrist. “But you’d never have said those words about Chris.”

  “How do you know that?” I barked out, spinning away.

  “Don’t you dare turn away from me again. Look at me.”

  I pivoted back to her, and she placed her hands against my chest.

  Her voice hushed. “You were only ever a loving brother. And loving me now the way you want to—the way we both want you to—isn’t being disloyal to Chris.”

  Around us, the partygoers sang, danced, chanted, drank. But between Reggie and me, there was a quiet, contained bubble as the past, the barriers, the pain, the shame disintegrated with those words.

  She watched me while I blinked, drawing her back against me.

  “You have to let this go, Calder,” she whispered.

  I nodded. Swallowed. Tried to control my ragged breaths.

  “I need to be alone with you.” My voice so deep, it sounded gravelly.

  “Then take me home.”

  ****

  The drive to my house was tense. We didn’t touch. Didn’t talk. We didn’t look at one another. Combustible chemistry coalesced between us, set to explode.

  Reggie laughed with a whoop when I swung her out of my truck then rushed up the porch with her in my arms. Inside, I kicked the door shut then backed her against the wall.

  I wanted all of her at once.

  I wanted to take my time so our first time never ended.

  Reggie held the back of my head, moaning, when I kissed the warm length of her neck. I tongued her lightly then started nibbling on her earlobe, teasing against the earring, sucking and licking.

  My hands lifted to her tits.

  I wanted to shred her shirt open.

  Wanted her to strip for me.

  Wanted to open each button with my teeth so my mouth just barely brushed against her skin.

  I weighed the soft mounds before closing my fingertips in to toy with the swollen crowns.

  “Not so fast.” Although her back arched and her body swayed and her voice was nearly lost on a whimper, she pushed me away. “Who said I was going to let you fuck me?”

  “You’re a tease.” I leaned back, breathing like I’d just pancaked a defensive lineman.

  “Only for you.” She slid from between the wall and me. “Now . . . how about instead of you reenacting that cheerleader dance, I dance for you. Just you.” She drew my mouth down to hers.

  The hot latch of her lips and the soft curl of her tongue in my mouth drove all other thoughts from my mind and every ounce of remaining blood in my body to my cock.

  She pulled back with a soft, wet, loud suck of my bottom lip and asked, “Would that make you feel better.”

  Jesus fucking Christ. Yes. I nodded like I couldn’t find my voice. Which I couldn’t. It was with all the blood in my cock.

  Taking my hand, she led me into the living room. Seated me in the middle of the couch.

  She stood in front of me, her hips swiveling back and forth as if music already played.

  “One problem, I don't have any of my costumes. What should I wear?”

  “Anything.” I spread my thighs wide. Had to. My dick was trying to travel down the inside of my jeans. “Nothing.”


  With her hands braced on my shoulders, she dipped those gorgeous tits so near my face I salivated for a taste.

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Her tongue dragged along my neck.

  I grunted in agreement, somehow knowing she wanted me to keep my hands at my sides.

  My fingers balled.

  “Would my bra and panties work for you?”

  I swallowed thickly, staring at the jutting orbs hanging in my face, the delicate outline of her nipples definitely defined through the shirt. “Please.”

  Yanking my head back by a grip in my short hair, she brought my gaze to hers. “Such good manners.”

  “You’re only gonna get away with bossing me around so much, Reggie. You better watch it.”

  She backed off and started slipping buttons free on her shirt. “No. You better watch it.”

  I growled, my thighs flexing, my cock almost vibrating it throbbed so hard.

  Without the benefit of any music, Reggie stripped right in front of me. She unbuttoned the top enough it hung open when she slowly lowered her hands to remove boots and socks.

  Gotta love a truly flexible woman. Holy shit. And those tits. My eyes almost dried up from staring so long.

  Pivoting on one foot, my sexy little dancer woman tugged her shirt free of the jeans. With each lower button undone, the cream silk slipped farther and farther down her tantalizing back.

  And I was sweating, motherfucking panting, about to have a heart attack.

  The top fluttered to the floor. Reggie turned in silhouette. That bra was white lace and nearly completely see-through. Couldn’t wait to see the panties. With a coy smile, she flicked open the button on her black jeans. The zipper stuttered down. Slowly.

  My head fell back against the couch, and I was about to rip cushions apart with my hands.

  Her hips swishing back and forth, still in profile, she tugged the jeans down and off, bending at a perfect angle.

  When she stood, she arched her spine. Dragged her hands down over her tits and hips.

  I leaned forward, ready to rush her to get at all that flesh. Fuck me. She was wearing another thong because the whole crescent of one ass cheek in side view teased me.

  “Show me.” Nostrils flaring. “Reggie, sweetheart. I’ll fucking beg if you want.”