Free Baller: An Off-limits, Sports Romance (Bad Boy Ballers Book 2)

by Rie Warren

  “I need to break out the tissues in case you go all Akoni on me?”

  “Fuckin’ AK.”

  “Fucking AK,” Calder held up his bottle of water.

  We both drank, me the IPA and Malone the H2O.

  “So, you got a girl back home?” I’d asked, adjusting my seat to maneuver for more legroom.

  His face closed up tight. “Nah. There’s no one.”

  “Well”—I’d rubbed my jaw—“looks like you could have the pick of Cougars.”

  “Maybe so.”

  “Except Delaney.” I’d growled.

  “Figured that.”

  Delaney Jones. Jeeeesus. Seeing her in action made me hard. Made me freakin’ groan. Made me wanna fuck her in every room in my house, maybe even in the barn, too, because she was just that action-packed. The way she threw the ball. The way she hot-stepped it into the end zone.

  The length of her legs and the tightness of her tummy.

  Shit. Felt like I was objectifying the woman, but that wasn’t it. Mostly. She possessed mad skills, and it’d fucking thrilled me to watch her play live. I hadn’t been lying when I’d told her she could give Rafe a run for the money as QB.

  Hell, I hoped she’d give me a run for my money . . . today.

  I’d made it to practice yesterday early, reinvigorated from my mini-trip. Our next game was against the New York Dragons, and I ripped up the training field, running ball after ball to the end zone.

  For once Coach D had nothing but praise, and Coach Frank kept nodding and clapping his hands.

  After the sweaty drills and weight lifting and tactical talks, Rafe had caught up to me in the shower block.

  “Delaney, huh?”

  “Shuddup and pass me the soap.” I caught the bar he flung at me between slippery fingers. “Velcro that motherfucker.”

  He shook his head under the shower spray. “Yeah. You been bringin’ it.”

  “What about me?” Marquis shoved into the middle, soaping up his gleaming black skin.

  “Butter—” I tossed the soap over his head of dreadlocks.

  “Fingers.” Rafe caught it one-handed.

  “Fuck you, both of you.” Our best wide receiver glared through the spitting shower. “And you, Mac Daddy, just you wait until you’re gettin’ up for midnight feeds with a newborn.”

  “Hate to break it to you, but Charmaine already decided I was the baby whisperer.”

  “I wanna be a fly on the wall when you have to deal with the first diaper blowout.” Marquis tucked his dreads into the pink showercap that never failed to make me laugh.

  “And I’m outta here.” I hitched a towel over my hips.

  “You got a date or somethin’?” Rafe called out.

  “Not until tomorrow.”

  “Delaney, huh?” the grinning fucker asked.

  I flipped the bird and stepped out of the water.

  A bar of soap slapped against the back of my head, and I scowled at the bastards.

  Rafe gargled water.

  Marquis showed me his backside. Something one really only needed to see on the field when he was running for yards.

  Akoni broke out in opera halfway down the showers, Bunyan joining in, cringingly off-key.

  Then Buck stuck his head out across the way. “A date with Delaney? Hooking up with Sporty Slut, are you?”

  I hauled the slippery schmuck from the shower so fast his feet tripped on the tiles. “I think you’ve got a problem respecting women. First Miss Fox, now Delaney?”

  Lucas Buckley—loudmouth extraordinaire—blanched.

  I wanted to see him turn white. Dead white. I cocked my fist and pummeled it into his abdomen. Should leave a huge bruise, but who’d see it when he was in uniform?

  He hocked and retched, rolling onto his side on the wet floor when I dropped him.

  “You’re a sick fuck with very little talent and nothing to show for this season.” I cocked my fist back to hammer again just too see the shitheel flinch.

  Heads popped out all around.

  Rafe didn’t drag me away.

  Even Akoni watched, a glimmer of approval in his eyes.

  Calder leaned against the nearest wall, Deacon Cross right beside him. The pair had been recruited alongside Buckley, but this time neither of them intervened.

  “Maybe you got away with running your mouth and flapping your gums in college, boy, but this is a whole new game.” Sneering down at him as he clutched his stomach, I barely refrained from kicking him in the face. “Say anything like that about any woman again, and I’m gonna put you in the hospital.”

  A day later, I still wanted to punch Buckley’s face clean in as I followed the directions to Delaney’s apartment. But I let the rage go as I rolled up to the building complex in Mt. Pleasant.

  It was a fine, fine autumn Sunday. A sweet seventy-degree day promising a mild South Carolina winter. A day that was just about to get sweeter as I hopped out of my truck and strolled up to Delaney’s door on the first floor. The place was a well-maintained duplex, and I was looking forward to snooping around inside. The woman was so private I hardly knew anything about her, except I liked her fighting spirit, her sheer athleticism, her dry sense of humor, and of course her smoking hot body.

  I didn’t even get a chance to knock before the door swung open, and Delaney stood, framed in the light of the entryway.

  “Eager much?” I grinned down at her.

  “What’d I tell you last time, Brooks?” She grabbed a slouchy bag off a table and jingled a set of keys.

  “Something about me being irresistible?”

  She chuckled, hustling me back onto the stoop. So no snooping around for me. Things that made me go hmmm.

  Reaching up, she patted me on my face. “Wrong. I said you think too highly of yourself.”

  I stood there, my thumbs slung in my belt loops, the big Lone Star belt dragging the denim down.

  Delaney quickly locked the door—giving me the chance to drool over her nice round ass—then spun to catch me staring.

  I shrugged then stared some more. She might look like a football vixen in her uniform on the field, a total tomboy in the basketball gear, but today she simply looked hot and casual and a little edgy. Black hair in a long loose braid. Soft-looking blue shirt that slipped off one bare shoulder. Tight faded jeans and low-heeled boots.

  My eyes roamed slowly upward, taking in the long legs, the slight swell of her hips, the bigger swell of her tits. “You look good.”

  Her gaze moved from my battered cowboy boots to the belt buckle then quickly scanned away from the evident bulge.

  A flush turned her cheeks pink. “Not so bad yourself.”

  Pulling her hand into mine, I tucked our fingers together. I kissed her cheek, considering her unusually shy averted gaze.

  My voice dropped. “You feel good too.”

  “Brooks . . .” Her eyes, those golden depths, flittered to mine.

  “Shall we?” I tugged her gently to my truck, opened the door for her, thought about giving her a nice boost on her juicy ass but settled for watching said juicy ass as she took her seat.

  “Is this the ride?” Delaney asked after I got behind the wheel of the old Ford.

  “Nope.” Caressing the dashboard, I glanced at her. “This was my granddaddy’s baby.” The engine roared to life, and I backed out.

  “Are you close to him?”

  “Heck yeah. He pretends to be all ornery and shit, but he’s always been one of my best friends.” I turned onto Longpoint Road, shifted the gears, then nabbed Delaney’s hand again.

  Something about her made me all touchy-feely. I kinda wanted to touchy-feely all over her body, but this was good, too. Perfect even. Especially since the handholding seemed to surprise her.

  “That’s sweet, Brooks.” Her voice came out soft and hushed.

  I barked out a laugh. “Ain’t so sweet when he calls me up after every game to tell me, play by play, everything I could’ve done better.” I squeezed her fingers.
“But yeah, I come from good people.”

  “And you’re skipping Crush Family Day for me?”

  “Oh, I expect the full riot act tomorrow.” Journeying down the road, past the creeks and the plantation, I merged onto 17.

  “Risky,” she said, and her thumb lightly caressed over my big knuckles.

  A damn shiver shot down my spine at her small touch. “Worth it.”

  “Aren’t you worried about the nonfraternization policy?” Delaney’s thumb continued to move in a soft circle.

  My thighs tensed, swift arrows of arousal shooting to my groin, but I played it cool.

  “Do I look like I’m worried?” Lifting her hand to my lips, I kissed it. “They can suck it.”

  She drew in a sharp breath but asked teasingly. “You’d give up your career for me?”

  “Well”—I slanted a grin at her—“I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “Brooks!”

  My booming laughter filled the truck cab.

  We turned off a few minutes later, the Ford kicking up dust along the graded dirt road. Fields swaying with high grasses on one side, the Francis Marion Forest on the other. Delaney sat up straighter as I pulled up to the ranch-style homestead that faced sparkling blue tidal waters and winding paths of dark green and deep orange reeds.

  “It’s gorgeous,” she breathed out.

  I let her hand go long enough to hop out and stride to her side.

  When she eased from the truck, she did a full 360. “But it’s so . . . isolated out here.”

  She clutched her bag a little tighter, a frown marring the smooth skin of her forehead.

  “Well”—I shoved my hands into my back pockets—“I usually don’t mind being alone.”

  “Usually?” She turned to me.

  “Much rather be with you.” I winked, hoping to allay whatever jitters possessed her about being alone with me.

  “Smooth talking will get you nowhere.” Her shoulders dropped a bit as she lifted her face to the warm sun.

  “That’s why I’ve got something else planned.” I hooked her hand in mine again and propelled her up the wide porch steps. “Just gotta grab a couple things inside first, if that’s okay.”

  “Lead the way.”

  She gasped again when I opened the front door and guided her inside. The great room to the left, the huge family-style kitchen to the right, the staircase in front of us made of highly polished planks of wood leading to the balcony and the second floor.

  Windows on every wall with no shades or curtains opened to the dynamic nature-made panorama.

  “You’re totally loaded.”

  I choked on a laugh, squeezing Delaney’s fingers. “Well, I used to be a bit more loaded.”

  “Oh shit. I can’t believe I just said that out loud.” She drew her free hand to her mouth.

  “What about you?”

  “Not loaded. You’ve seen my apartment and my car.”

  “Technically I haven’t seen your place, but you’re welcome to a tour of mine if you want.”

  “Lead on,” she said, smiling.

  I kept the excursion short, A. because I wasn’t into bragging about shit, and B. I really did have plans that didn’t include dragging Delaney into my bedroom.

  Aaaand we halted at the door of my bedroom. “So this is where I—”

  “Sleep.”

  Not really what I have in mind at the moment.

  Delaney’s gold-tinged eyes scanned from the large bed to the windows to the floor to mine, fleetingly. “Where’s this ride again?”

  My gut felt hollow and my groin tight, and I didn’t wanna make one single misstep with this woman. With most chicks, it was easy to tell if they were flirting. Delaney? She was an entirely different story with so many layers I had to be careful.

  “Not in the bedroom.” Yet.

  We walked down the stairs, my hand at her lower back.

  “I sort of thought you just brought me here for a romp.”

  “Because of what you’ve heard about me?”

  “Mmm. You have been in the gossip rags, Baller Brooks.”

  In the entryway, I clasped both her hands in mine. “Would you believe me if I said I’d been fucking my divorce out of my system, but I’m over that now?”

  “Yeah. I’d believe you.” Wide and more guileless than I’d ever seen them, her eyes locked on mine.

  The next second, she pulled her hands free and huffed, “But you’re still loaded.”

  Delaney beautiful Jones. I just stood there, chuckling and shaking my head. One minute all ballsy, the next a little sweet and shy, and then she was busting my balls.

  “The ride?” she asked.

  I touched the bag slung over her shoulder. “Do you need this with you, babe?”

  “It depends on what you have in mind.” Protectively hugging the bag against her chest, she scowled.

  I stepped off immediately. “Hey. Still a surprise. And you can definitely keep the bag with you if you need to. Not a prob.”

  She chewed on her lip, looking out the open door to my truck then to me. “No. It’s okay.”

  She slipped the bag off her shoulder and handed it to me. I laid the suede sack on the entry table. It gaped open, revealing a Taser inside.

  A Taser? What the hell would she need one of those things for?

  Chapter Seven

  One Helluva Ride

  Brooklyn

  I QUICKLY QUIETLY CLOSED the bag, and keeping my face carefully neutral, I joined her on the porch. “You ready for this?” I asked, toting a picnic basket in one hand.

  “I’m usually ready for anything.”

  Considering the Taser in her purse I wasn’t surprised, but I was definitely concerned.

  “That’s a barn.” She pointed at the structure I led her toward.

  “Uh huh.”

  “What’s in the barn?”

  “Technically it’s a stable.” I picked up the pace when I heard Jester nicker. “Saddles and stirrups and—”

  “Crops and kinky shit?”

  “Well, if that’s how you wanna think about it.” Pushing open the wide door, I waited a couple seconds for my eyes to adjust.

  Jester popped his head over the stall—whickering loudly.

  “That is a damn horse.” Delaney clutched my arm.

  “Yup.” I nudged her closer. “Jester. He’s like my granddaddy. Pretending to be ornery. Just give him a little sugar, and he’ll eat right out of your hand.”

  “Sugar what?” Backing into me as we stopped in front of the stall, Delaney pressed against my front.

  “Sugar cube.” I placed the tidbit in her hand and brought her palm to Jester’s muzzle.

  He lipped up the quartz-colored sweet then snuffled at my woman’s palm.

  Delaney jerked in my arms. “It tickles!”

  I grinned, keeping my arm around her waist. “Here’s another.”

  She fed him the crystal of sugar then reached out to stroke his forelock. “He’s huge.”

  “He’s a good workhorse.”

  She fed him one more cube, giggling at the sensation of his whiskers on her palm, then I pulled her away.

  Jester neighed mournfully.

  “Greedy bastard,” I scolded.

  “Him or you?”

  “Both probably.”

  “Wasn’t that the ride?” Delaney asked.

  “Nah. She is.” I opened the far end of the stable and pointed at the Appaloosa mare in the corral.

  “I’ve never been on a horse.” Delaney placed both feet on the bottom rung of the fence. “Never done a lot of things.”

  I just stood back as she whistled to the dappled chestnut mare who tossed her mane and pranced over.

  “Nothing stopping you now.”

  The sun glinted off Delaney’s high cheeks when she glanced over her shoulder. Cinnamon snuffed her nose into Delaney’s hair, and the woman bounced up in laughter.

  “Are you sure I can ride her?”

  “She’s trained as a
saddle horse. Cinnamon here’s an easy ride.”

  Delaney hopped down and came toward me, her hips swaying. “You’d know about an easy ride, wouldn’t you?”

  I captured her against me, my arms loosely linked around her. “Not into easy anymore.”

  “I really think a motorcycle might be more my speed.” Her eyes lowered.

  “Trust me.” Letting her go, I stepped into the corral. “Do you trust me, Delaney? Cinnamon isn’t gonna hurt you. Neither am I.”

  She nodded.

  “Besides, she’s yours.” I led the mare to the stable, fitted her with a saddle and a hackamore, Jester and Delaney following every motion.

  “You bought a horse for me?”

  “Had to have something for you to ride.” Other than the cock in my pants. I winked at Delaney, watching her cheeks get all pretty and pink again. “She’s from my folks’ ranch. And technically I got Cinnamon for him.” I thumbed toward Jester. “He’s tired of being a bachelor.”

  “Oh he is, is he?”

  “Yep.” I grabbed my Stetson off the peg, saddled Jester with a couple extra bags, and gave Delaney a boost up onto Cinnamon.

  That time I got a good feel of her ass, too. I walked around the horse, making slight adjustments to the stirrups. I’d judged the length well, but I guess that was what came from hours of studying Delaney’s top-notch body.

  After swinging up onto Jester, I prodded the big fellow forward with my heels. “I’m not a huge fan of being single either.”

  Delaney bounced in the saddle beside me, wary and cautious, the reins tight in her hands.

  Reaching over, I loosened her fists, showed her how to hold the reins properly. “She won’t bolt on you, babe. Just relax into her rhythm and don’t hold yourself stiff.”

  The sun filtered through the canopy of leaves and our horses’ hooves patted down forest-scented underbrush.

  I’d tried Cinnamon out myself. She could get spirited, but that was why I knew she’d be a good match for Delaney.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she said uncertainly.

  “Nothing to it. Let your body adjust to how she moves.” I nudged Jester forward, and he loped toward my favorite trail.

  Delaney rode beside me hesitantly at first, and I made sure to take it slow and easy, just the way I’d make love to her the first time.