Hard Man: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (Bad Ballers Book 1)

by S. J. Bishop

  "Sorry, Angelo."

  "Lars?" I could hear him shaking the sleep off.

  "Yeah. I would've called later, but I know how you hate bad news. You always said that kind of thing was better to get sooner rather than later. I assume that still holds true."

  There was silence for a second.

  "What is it, old buddy?"

  Oh shit. If he was pulling that 'old buddy' shit with me, that meant he was expecting to get mad. Real mad. He only ever said 'old buddy' when he was open to blowing someone's head off. And I hadn't even told him why I was calling yet.

  "Look, about what we talked about earlier...about the game..."

  "What about it?" he asked, his voice cutting sharply through the phone.

  "It's just that...I've changed my mind."

  Silence.

  "Can you repeat that please?"

  I took a deep breath.

  "I can't throw the Super Bowl."

  "Can't or won't?"

  "Both," I said, wondering if that was really true. "The Giants' coach, Brett Walker, was in a bad car accident this evening. I've been at the hospital all night. I only left a couple hours ago."

  "I'm sorry to hear that, but what does that have to do with the game, precisely?"

  I expelled another breath, wishing there was an easy way to get out of this. The easy way would have been to not get into this mess in the first place. I had no one to blame but myself.

  "I just can't do it, Angelo. The Super Bowl meant too much to him. It means too much to me. It isn't right."

  "You realize that this means you are breaking an agreement with me."

  "I realize that."

  "Do I have to remind you what happens to those who break agreements with me?" His voice was slick and cool, always cool. That's why he was so good at what he did.

  "No, Angelo, you don't have to remind me. I'm the one who used to enact your punishments for breaking contracts, remember?"

  "Nevertheless, I think you need a history lesson. Breaking agreements means that something else needs to get broken. If you can't ensure a loss for me during the game, I shall have to find some other way to ensure it."

  "Go ahead and break my arms if you want, I'm not throwing the game."

  Angelo was quiet. For a moment, I thought I'd lost him. "I don't just break arms anymore, Lars. I have new men on my team. Men who aren't afraid to get dirty."

  "What are you saying?"

  "The things you used to do for me are a joke compared to what these guys will do to fuck you up, should you choose to be fucked up."

  "I'm not choosing anything, Angelo, except to play the best game I can for a man who means a lot to me."

  The static hummed over the phone line while I waited for his reaction.

  "Is that your final word on the subject?"

  "It is."

  "Then I'll be seeing you soon."

  The phone went silent. I sat with it pressed against my ear for no more than a half a second when there was a creak. He can't be here already! I spun around and saw Clarissa standing there, her mouth hanging open.

  Shit.

  "Clarissa!" I yelled, jumping from the chair. "How long have you been standing there?"

  "Long enough. I heard everything."

  31

  Clarissa

  "What the fuck is going on, Lars?"

  He stared at me with his stupid, dark eyes and ruffled hair, and I wanted to punch his lights out. Every single thing about him pissed me off right now, from his good looks to his flexed muscles. Even his tattoos were annoying.

  "Look, let's just relax a minute," he said, taking a deep breath and blowing it back out as if he expected me to do the same.

  "Relax?" I spat the word back at him as if it were a four-letter word. "I heard everything you said, Lars. How can you expect me to relax when I've just learned that you're throwing the motherfucking Super Bowl?!"

  "Whoa," Lars said, throwing his hands up in the air as if I had a gun trained on him. "I don't know what you think you heard, but you've got it all wrong."

  "Oh yeah? Because I think the only thing I've gotten wrong is letting your idiot ass in my bed." I ran toward him, intent on knocking him down. I rammed against him, trying to push him toward the stairs and out the front door. The whole scene would probably have looked ridiculous if it had been caught on camera. I was attacking him like a football player, ramming my shoulder into his side. He stood there taking it all, much like he had in the hospital. There, a nurse had finally come out and shushed me. She’d glared at me as if she'd never seen a frantic woman in a hospital emergency room before. Now there was no nurse to stop me. But my shoulder was starting to ache anyway, so instead of pushing Lars, I glared at him.

  "Are you calm enough to listen to me now?"

  I panted as I stared angrily at him.

  "Fuck calm," I snarled under my breath.

  "I guess not, then."

  "How could you betray my father like that? How could..." I took a deep breath. "How could you betray me like that?"

  "Listen to me," Lars said, finally raising his voice enough to be heard over my angry shrieks. "If you really heard everything I said on that phone, then you should've heard me saying that I'd changed my mind about it all."

  "Which means that you agreed to do it in the first place."

  Lars hesitated. I saw something dark flash in his eyes. "Yes," he said. "I admit it, alright? I'm ashamed of myself. I wasn't thinking." His cheeks flushed a dark crimson as he stared intently at me. "But that's why I told Angelo to count me out."

  "Angelo? Who the fuck is Angelo?" I tried to catch my breath while my stomach twisted itself into knots. "Is he one of those scumbags you used to run with? Is this what you meant when you said you weren't on the right side of the law? You used to work with cheaters and liars and—"

  "Yes, Clarissa, that's what the wrong side of the law is. Cheaters, liars, thieves, and murderers."

  "Murderers? Is that what you used to do before you went into football?"

  "No, just listen!"

  "I want you out of my house now!"

  "Fine," Lars snapped. "You won't listen to me. You won't let me get a word in edgewise. Just let me get dressed, and I'll go."

  I could see him glowering at me, though I was the one who was justified in my anger, not him. I followed him back to my bedroom, afraid to let him out of my sight, as if he might start stealing our towels or going through my jewelry. You couldn't trust a career criminal like Lars clearly was. His chest muscles flexed tightly as he pulled his fitted shirt over his head. Every time he breathed, it was like watching a waterfall of muscle ripple across his chest in a tidal wave of bare, sinewy flesh.

  I tried to stay mad at him, but the more I watched him, the easier it was to become distracted. I replayed snippets from the conversation I'd overheard Lars having.

  Go ahead and break my arms if you want, I'm not throwing the game.

  I've changed my mind.

  I can't throw the Super Bowl.

  All I'd heard when I'd come out of my bedroom was "throw the Super Bowl." I hadn't stopped to absorb everything he was saying. Lars was clearly telling the asshole on the phone to fuck off.

  "Shit," I murmured. Lars was putting on his shoes when I approached him. He flinched as my hand reached out to touch his chest through the thin fabric of his shirt. He was probably expecting me to hit him again. "Dammit, Lars. I'm sorry. You're right, I wasn't even listening to you."

  His face relaxed, the look in his eyes softening as he turned to me.

  "I'm ready to listen," I said. "Only...I want the truth. All of it."

  "You might not like me much anymore after you hear it, but if it's the truth you want...then it's the truth you'll get."

  32

  Lars

  I hated the way Clarissa was looking at me. It was as if her eyes had grown three sizes too big for her head. Her petal pink lips were pursed into a tight bow that made me simultaneously want to kiss her and tell her to re
lax. She sat on the edge of her bed, gripping the sheet tightly in her hands as if she were listening to a ghost story.

  "The mob?" she asked. "As in...the mafia? Like in the movies?"

  I nodded. I sat across from her in a desk chair that I'd pulled out. I rested my head on its back as I let her think through everything I'd just told her.

  She drew in a deep breath. I watched her breasts lift as her chest expanded under her robe. I wondered—I hoped—that I'd get to see them again after everything had settled. This was all the stuff I'd kept hidden from those around me. Coach had guessed at some of it because he was a clever man. My mom knew about a lot of it because she'd spent her whole life in Vinegar Hill, just like me. Only, even she didn't know that I'd cradled Ash's head in my arms as he bled out on me. That his last words, telling me to get out of this life, had sparked something in me that I would be forever grateful for.

  "So this friend of yours, Ash..." I watched her eyes searching for the right way to ask her question. Even now, I had a hard time talking about Ash without tearing up. "You say he died when you were out on a job for this guy, Angelo?"

  "That's right." I'd given her every fact I could think of, was willing to answer every question she'd had, including the ones that were still coming.

  "So, what happened to the guys who killed him?"

  I paused, wondering precisely how open I should be here.

  "Just tell me the truth," she said, sensing my hesitation. "I can take it. You swore you'd answer all my questions."

  I sighed and hoped she wouldn't have nightmares later. "Angelo sent some guys after Big Nose Vincent and cut his nose off. They left a gaping hole in his skull where his nostrils used to be. Then Angelo took that nose down to his butcher and put it through a meat grinder."

  Clarissa's jaw dropped open. I could see her mind spinning and wished I hadn't gotten into it with such detail. At least I'd left out the part about Angelo feeding his special homemade burger to Big Nose before dropping him feet first into the Hudson River. Bricks had a funny way of dragging people to the bottom and keeping them there.

  "Did he die?" Clarissa asked. I nodded. "What about the others?"

  I decided from the green look on her face that she'd had enough stories for one evening. "Angelo took care of it," I told her, giving her a quick summary.

  She cocked one eyebrow at me but asked no more.

  "So...when you left Angelo's, um, employment, you didn't... I mean, he didn't, like, try to stop you?"

  "Are you asking if he threatened to cut off my nose or something even more vital?"

  She nodded.

  "No. At least, not unless I talked to the cops or the Feds, but that holds true of anyone."

  "And this guy, Angelo... he's the one you were on the phone with tonight? The one you've just rescinded your deal with?"

  I nodded.

  "Aren't you worried? What if he comes after you?"

  I thought about it. "I told you once, and I'll tell you again...my life ain't worth shit if I don't like the man I am. And fucking over Coach and the rest of the team...and you... I'd rather be dead."

  Clarissa's crystal blue eyes stared at me with a fever I'd never seen before. She slipped off the edge of the bed and walked languidly toward me. Stopping a few inches from my face, she lifted her hand. I braced myself for the slap I knew was coming and closed my eyes, ready for the sting I knew I deserved.

  Suddenly, I felt her soft hand slip around the back of my neck and pull me close. Her mouth found mine, moist and ready for her. She slid her supple pink tongue along my upper lip before pressing herself firmly against me. I opened my eyes, feeling an urgency that was now consuming me, trying to break free.

  "I can't believe you'd risk your life like that for my father," she whispered, her hot breath on my face. I could smell vanilla and cinnamon emanating from each strand of her hair. "You're the best kind of dangerous...dangerous to everyone except me. And I think I like that. A lot." Wild passion overtook me as she fell into my arms and I carried her to the bed.

  33

  Clarissa

  I felt like a virgin teenager as he carried me to the bed. My body trembled so that I was hardly able to move. I told myself to snap out of it. I'd already fucked Lars twice. There was nothing to be anxious about. But this time was different. This was a new Lars. Opening up to me as he had had made everything fresh and unfamiliar.

  I raised my head to Lars’ mouth as he held me in his arms. Anxiety bubbled up inside me like a percolator set on the stove with the heat turned all the way up. He laid me gently on the bed and stepped back. The fitted shirt he'd put on when I was trying to kick him out clung tightly to his muscles as if his whole body were wet. He pulled it over his head, exposing his sumptuous, sculpted form.

  His golden brown skin was covered with tattoos, which were quickly becoming one of my favorite things about him. Every time I saw the tattoos, they aroused something deep and primal within me. Slowly, he pulled down the silver zipper of his jeans, exposing just the tuft of dark, coarse curls at the base of his cock. My heart raced as I pictured what lay further down between his tight, golden thighs.

  "Show me," I begged. "I can't wait anymore." My voice was raspy as I tried to get my breathing under control. He pulled his zipper back up, taunting me.

  A sly smile spread across his lips. "I'll tell you when."

  His voice sent a deep chill down my spine. He climbed onto the bed with me, his weight pushing the mattress down as he straddled one leg on either side of my waist. His hand reached up and brushed the robe from my shoulders, shooting instant heat up my spine. My nerve endings were all on alert as Lars leaned over me, kissing first my bare right shoulder, then my left. I lifted my head to his bare chest, inhaling his masculine scent.

  It felt like the wires in my brain were all crisscrossed, shorting out different parts of my body. My toes tingled, my thighs itched, and the back of my neck felt like it was on fire. I breathed in his captivating lips, his dark midnight colored hair, and his caramel eyes. The tattoos that covered his chiseled chest aroused the bad girl in me.

  I kissed a small green dragon in the upper left quadrant of his chest, running my tongue over the thick scales that covered his bare flesh. The dragon's body spanned just a few inches of his chest, but its pointed tail ran the width of him, from his left to his right side and back again, creating a figure eight. I let my tongue trail the whole length of the tail, as if his body were a cold drink of water on a hot day. When I got to the sharp, pointed tip of the tail, I swirled my tongue around it, daring it to sting me. The dragon breathed fire back into me as my saliva sizzled on his skin.

  He opened my robe so that my breasts spilled out, forcing his gaze to my center. I could see the blaze in his eyes as he took in my voluptuous body, licking his lips. He reached down with one soft yet firm hand and began to stroke the soft tissue between my thighs. My back arched as my brain registered the pleasure of his fingertips on my clit, slowly twirling around the delicate pink flesh that began to blossom under his expert touch.

  He leaned down and kissed my ribs, teasing my sensitive skin. He slid his tongue up over my chest, between my breasts, to my collarbone, where he kissed me gently, still rubbing my clit with his soft, thick thumb pad. My core felt like it was on fire as he took my dark pink nipples into his mouth. Flames moved through every part of me, from my head to my feet, sending shockwaves up and down my body. Every inch of me was melting. I reached down and pulled at his zipper.

  "I can't take much more of this," I said, barely able to find my voice.

  "I already told you once," Lars said, his hot breath blowing against my ear. "I say when."

  I felt the smoothness of his chest as I reached out my fingertips, brushing them lightly over his skin as my hands inched downwards. The zipper that separated us was cold on my skin. I tugged at it with desperate fingers. Lars laughed, finally showing mercy on me and pushing my hands gently aside so he could lower the zipper himself.

  His
cock slipped out from under the fabric of his jeans as I worked frantically to push them down his waist. They pooled around his knees as he continued to straddle me. I spread my fingers wide and traced the hard ridges of his shaft as heat radiated off him. He groaned softly as I began to stroke his cock, his arousal growing with each up and down movement. I sat up and drew his mouth to mine, concentrating on the feel of his soft, supple lips as he pressed them hard against me.

  Suddenly, his jeans were off and on the floor. He slipped my robe the rest of the way off and threw it aside. I leaned back on the bed and spread my legs for him, sending an open invitation. His tongue slipped between my thighs, tasting me, caressing my clit with his velveteen tongue.

  I clamped my hands on the side of the mattress, pulling the corner of the sheet off the bed as my body spasmed. I felt my core erupt, desire overtaking me as Lars slipped his tongue deep inside my hole. My pussy was already wet and only growing wetter by the second. I groaned loudly as my eyes rolled backward.

  He lifted his head, kissing my lips before leaning close to my ear. "Now," he breathed, "it's when."

  34

  Lars

  I'd never had to work so hard to control myself. From the moment I'd touched her, my cock was ready to erupt. As my tongue worked its way into every sinful curve she owned, the look in her eyes hotwired my brain like a stolen car. It wasn't just Clarissa's curves that had me so turned on, it was everything about her. She had a fiery temper deep inside her that was as dangerous as it was provocative.