Bedding the Bad Boy (Bad Boys of Football Book 1)

by Penelope Silva

  It was my turn to blush. Was he referring to all the women or the trouble?

  “Be someone he can count on. Make him see he’s someone who can be loved,” Frank said.

  Chapter Sixteen – Isla

  “Thiswill all blow over, you know,” Beck said as he hugged me.

  Part of me wanted to believe him. The other part knew better than to believe this story would go away on its own. It added more fuel to the already burning fire. It complicated things for Beck. His first court case hadn’t yet been resolved and now he had another one. This one could land him in jail for quite some time if he was convicted.

  Beck lifted my chin. “Isla, stop worrying. My attorneys are taking care of it. Now since you’re not working, you can focus on the baby and me.”

  Like I’d ever be able to forget about him. From the first moment I met him in the nightclub, all I’ve done is think about him. Want him. Dream of him. Now I was having his baby and practically living with him; what else did he want from me?

  “That’s why I have to worry. I have a baby to think about and without a job, how am I supposed to take care of a child?” I knew it sounded ridiculous. I knew what his answer would be, but the fact of the matter was, I didn’t want him to take care of me. I didn’t need his money. I wanted to do things on my own.

  Beck laughed into my hair. “Do you hear yourself? Why are you acting like you and the baby are going to live in squalor? Do you think I’d let that happen? How would it look if I was living the high life and you and the baby were living in this little bitty apartment?”

  How did he think it would look? It would look like I wasn’t after him for his money. It would look like I was a grown ass woman who didn’t have to depend on a man to get through life. That’s how it would look! “Why are you making this about you and how people would perceive you?” I asked, heat rising in my throat.

  Another laugh. I loved to hear him laugh, but not at my expense.

  “Stop. I don’t know what you think is so funny. I’m not laughing,” I said, pouting my lips.

  That only made him laugh harder, like I’d told him some kind of joke and he was my biggest fan. “You’re beautiful when you act like a brat.”

  “Excuse you?” I asked, feeling my emotions start to get the better of me. “I’m serious. I don’t know why you walk around acting like everything is a big joke. It’s not. This is real life. This is not your life we’re talking about. Maybe someone should have told you, you don’t walk on water because you don’t.”

  There; I said it. It had to be said. If not by me, then who?

  “Kiss me,” he whispered.

  That got me every time. I had to avert my eyes, otherwise I’d jump all over him and have him for breakfast. He knew it. No matter how hard I tried to prove I was in charge, he’d use his sex appeal to prove me wrong. Why did he have to be so gorgeous? Why couldn’t he have been one of those hot guys who had no idea how good looking they were?

  “What are you thinking about? If it’s not about putting your luscious lips on me, then stop it because you’re killing the mood. Well, not killing it, but not helping to keep things on point, if you know what I mean?” He lifted the sheet to give me a glimpse of his erect penis.

  “Like I needed a peek to tell me? I could feel it against my thigh,” I said as the space between my legs grew warm with desire. Yep, he had me. It was hopeless to try to resist. The man was too damn fine.

  I sighed, giving into the moment. “Can I kiss it?”

  His eyes lit up. “Be my guest, gorgeous!” He tossed the crisp white sheet aside and positioned himself flat on his back, exposing his toned body. “I’m all yours.”

  I hoped it was true.

  We didn’t roll out of bed for a couple of hours. If my bladder hadn’t been so weak, I would have remained in bed with him forever if I could have. But I needed to pull myself together, so I jumped into a warm bath to motivate myself to get moving. He made everything better or, at least, made it seem better for the time being. I didn’t have to worry about being a statistic.

  That’s how I was referring to myself these days. It’s essentially what I’d become. Another unemployed, pregnant black woman. Yep, I did my mother proud.

  I reached for a towel to wrap myself in and slipped, tumbling forward.

  “Whoa!” Beck said as he grabbed my arm. “Be careful. You’re going to hurt both my babies that way.”

  “Thanks, but where did you come from? Were you spying on me?” I asked, using his arm as a brace to keep myself steady.

  “You fell asleep. Someone must have worn you out. Tell me, how did he do it? Did he lick you right here?” He asked as he kissed the back of my neck. “Or, did he kiss you here?” He turned me around to face him and planted a kiss on my cheek. “Or, did he tickle you here?” He yanked the towel loose, sending it slipping to the floor as he cupped my breasts.

  “Are you flirting with me, Mr. Fiancé?” I teased, enjoying the playful moment. I could never get enough of him. Never.

  “No, not at all. I heard you’re engaged to the best quarterback in the league,” he said.

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah,” he started, as he pulled me closer. “And, I hear he knocked you up.”

  And, the moment was gone.

  I smacked his shoulder playfully. “Don’t say it like that! Yes, I’m pregnant, but no one knocked me up.”

  “Oh, really? Then, what do you call the cute, little baby bump you have going on there? Too many mimosas?”

  He was right. My body had begun to change. My breasts were larger and tender to the touch. My hips were fuller. And, I’d begun to notice my pants were starting to fit a little snugger. I was finally beginning to show.

  “Don’t tease me because I’m fat,” I said.

  “I’m not teasing you. You’re not fat, by the way. I don’t even know what fat means. You women are all obsessed about being some imaginary size, while us guys are like she’s got tits, an ass, and someplace to poke, then, she’s good. She’ll do. We don’t care what size your waist is or what size your pants are,” he explained.

  I had to admit, I’d never thought of things that way.

  “Why are you smiling? Did I say something funny?” Beck asked, letting his hands skim down my body.

  It was time to get back to reality. As much as I wanted to make love again this morning, we didn’t have time. Beck was supposed to be the keynote speaker at a charity event this evening and I needed to make sure he was prepared. We had to arrive without any further controversy. The last few weeks had been a whirlwind of disasters for us. Beck had the court case. His assistant had been arrested for paying the bimbo twins to party with him and take illicit photos of him in compromising positions. Knowing what his proclivities were, I could only imagine what kind of scandal that would have caused, had they made it to the hotel room Beck was planning to take them to for the night. On top of all that, I’d lost my job and Beck had been arrested for assaulting a woman.

  “You sure you want to turn down the hottest player around?” Beck teased.

  “I’m sure, you need to stop hanging out with those animals you call friends and stop letting people blow your over inflated ego up any further. If you don’t watch out, your head is going to explode,” I teased him, while he lifted the towel and wrapped it around me.

  “I thought you loved my over inflated head. I know you dream about it every night,” he teased, making a show of securing my towel around my breasts.

  I rolled my eyes at him. This was starting to become a habit -- a sexy ass habit, but a habit nonetheless. It was my experience habits were meant to be broken. I hoped, after the baby was born, this habit wouldn’t ever need to be broken. I wanted him to want me forever, because I had no doubt I’d want him forever.

  “I’ll leave you to it, then. We don’t want to be late. People are counting on me. I’m the star of the show,” he said, leaving me to finish making myself human looking again.

  “Don’t forget the cu
ff links,” I said. Now, I was beginning to sound like a wife.

  After a few quick dabs of lip gloss and mascara, I was about as good as I was going to get. Lately, I’d been too tired to even begin to consider spending more time than necessary getting dressed. I hoped, I wouldn’t turn into one of those sweatpants everyday kind of women because Lord knew my thick behind didn’t look good in sweatpants.

  “Are you talking to yourself again?” Beck called out from the other side of the door.

  I opened it, surprised by how handsome he looked in a three-piece suit. “Wow, you clean up good,” I said.

  He thanked me by planting a kiss on my cheek. “And you look damn good. Good enough to eat. I think I’ll have you for dessert.”

  He wasn’t kidding either. That had become another one of our routines. Sex in the morning. Sex at night. Sex every time we saw each other. I still hadn’t completely moved in with him yet. I could only imagine how much sex we’d have when I did move in.

  “Why are you looking at me that way?” I asked.

  “I can’t believe you’re mine,” he said, his eyes floating up and down my body. “No one is ever going to take you away from me.”

  Could he be any sexier?

  “You’re stuck with me. No one is going to make me do anything I don’t want to do,” I said, planting a kiss on the scruff under his chin. “Now, can we go? I’m starving.”

  The media followed behind us as we drove. They weren’t as aggressive as they had been before. Something had shifted. Maybe my pregnancy had softened them? Perhaps they were waiting for Beck to slip up again or waiting for me to start showing more? I was glad to have Beck somewhat to myself. We needed this time. I needed to be close to him.

  He massaged my lower back as we drove. I was putty in his hands. His touch soothed me. He had become the man I loved more than words could say. Even if being with him made me nervous most of the time, I couldn’t help but love him.

  The quiet moment we shared, ended the second we stepped out of the car. Paparazzi stormed the car, shouting questions at Beck.

  One question stopped us in our tracks. “Is having a mixed race baby your way of connecting with the African American community?”

  I squeezed Beck’s hand, urging him to ignore it, but it was too late. Beck had already turned to stare down the reporter.

  “What did you say? You have a problem?” Beck towered over the reporter, looking like an ogre by comparison.

  “Beck,” I started as the first punch was thrown.

  Everything happened so fast. One second, I’m calling Beck’s name; the other, I’m shoved against the car door and both Frank and Beck are pummeling a couple of guys while their camera crews recorded every minute of it.

  “Stop!” I yelled, but Beck couldn’t hear me.

  “If you touch her again, I’ll kill you. You got it, bitch?” Beck lifted the overzealous reporter off the ground, his legs dangling underneath him. “I’ll kill you!”

  I was horrified, unable to move.

  Luckily, Frank had the presence of mind to intervene. He pushed through the throng of people and stepped in between Beck and the bleeding man. “Beckham, stop now! He’s not worth it! Think about Isla!”

  Frank’s voice brought Beck back to reality. He released the man and let him fall to the ground. It didn’t take long for the police to arrive and another nightmare to begin.

  As the officers made their way through the melee, Beck tried to pull me over to him, but I resisted.

  “Sorry, baby. I’m not going to let some asshole talk about you or the baby. I’m so sorry. Come here, let me hold you. Are you okay?” He asked, checking me for injuries.

  I didn’t have a chance to answer. The police had him surrounded. What happened next was a blur. It was as if I wasn’t even there. Like I was outside my body watching with no ability to talk. The situation was hopeless.

  “Miss Johnson?” Frank tried to cajole me into letting him lead me away.

  “I want to go home.”

  “I’ll take you home,” Frank promised, but the police were inching closer to him. He wasn’t going to go anywhere, except the police station with Beck.

  Frank handed me the car keys. “Get in the car and stay there. Call the security team and have them meet you,” Frank said.

  I heard his words, but they made no sense in that moment.

  A police officer approached me, asking, “What happened here? Did you see it?”

  “Yes, I saw it all.” I scanned the crowd, unable to see which way Beck had gone. “Where’s Beck? Is he under arrest?”

  The officer took my arm. “An ambulance is on the way. Why don’t we have them check you out? Are you injured?”

  I wasn’t hurt. Not that I knew of, at least, but I couldn’t find the words to explain myself. All I could think was that our lives were ruined. Everything was over. My child would grow up without a father and I’d forever be the black girl who had a baby with a white quarterback.

  “Miss Johnson?” The officer called my name.

  I blinked back tears.

  “Mr. Alexander is being taken down to the police station. He’s not under arrest yet. They’re going to talk to him and find out what happened. Okay?”

  I nodded, not at all relieved by that information.

  “The paramedics are here. Let’s have them take a look at you and make sure everything is okay,” the officer suggested.

  “Nothing is okay. Absolutely nothing about this is okay,” I mumbled.

  Chapter Seventeen – Beck

  Coach Lawson had been riding my ass since I walked in the door. What did a guy have to do to get some time to think? All I wanted, was to come to practice to keep my mind off things and this dude acted like I killed his puppy. I know, I’d made another one of those promises about staying out of trouble -- keeping my life drama-free -- to Isla after the police let me go, but this shit was getting ridiculous. Everyone was all over me. They acted like I’d killed someone.

  The franchise owners wanted to cut me, but held back because my name made them a hell of a lot of money. They’d be stupid to kiss that kind of money goodbye. The coach was riding me because he had a daddy complex and took every opportunity to remind me of who was in charge. Millions of dollars exchanged hands daily and he believed he had some kind of power. He was no one. He worked for me.

  The media presence had grown to levels high enough the post office should have considered adding a new zip code. They ran deep. Some mornings, I’d wake up to find a couple of hundred reporters outside my gates or a few dozen cars following behind me. Yeah, that was another thing; I used to travel with my security team for major events, then I met Isla and lost my head. I blamed my security team for letting me leave the club with women that would eventually try to ruin me. I knew it wasn’t their fault. They were doing what they were told to do, but someone had to take the blame for what happened. I was a man who saw a delicious opportunity and decided to take it. Little did I know, it’d land me in a pile of shit. I didn’t know I’d end up engaged and about to be a father either.

  “Are you hearing me, Alexander, or is your bullshit attitude blocking your ears?” Coach Lawson screamed.

  “I hear you,” I answered.

  “Hey Beck, play it cool. Do what you do. Do your thing so we can get outta here,” Jared said, patting me on the back.

  “I’m good. He’s the one with a problem,” I said, pointing to the coach. “I came to play.”

  Coach Lawson never took his eyes off me. I was his target for the day. I couldn’t wait for it to come to a head. I was dying to let off some steam. Since I was prohibited from doing that, I felt the urge to do it even more. It’s like I was looking for a fight -- looking for a reason to blow up.

  “You girls ready to practice or do you need to call your mommies?” Coach Lawson’s tone shifted to a more condescending one.

  “We’re good, Coach. Let’s run some drills,” Jared said, always trying to be the peacemaker.

 
Three hours later, I was standing under the showers, wondering what life would have been like if I’d never picked up my first football or never wanted to be a rich superstar.

  How did my life come to this? I’d never been in trouble with the law before this year. Sure, I’d done plenty over the years that would have landed a lesser man in jail, but I was slick. I was sly. I knew how to play to my strengths: muscle, swagger, and this face – my moneymaker. My other moneymaker, according to dozens of women. People let me get off easy. They let me walk away. That’s how things worked. All I had to do was flash my killer smile or offer to do whatever it was they wanted, whether that was sex or money, it didn’t matter, but it always worked. That’s how I became the man I was today. The man everyone wanted to know, but no one wanted to love, no one except Isla.

  “We’re going to grab some lunch; you want to come?” Jared asked.

  “No, I have to go take care of some shit. Go on ahead.”

  “Man, what’s going on with you? You’re acting weird,” Jared said.

  He was right. I knew it, but I didn’t like him pointing it out. I didn’t want anyone paying attention to me unless it involved lining my pockets. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You should come out with us. You have to eat, right?” Jared continued to persuade me, but after the stuff that happened the last time I went out with them, there was no way in hell I was going to risk it again.

  “I said I’m good, man. Go on without me,” I snapped at him, the anger in my words surprising me as much as it surprised him.

  “Alright, if you’re sure, then we’ll see you, man.” He backed away and went to see what the other team members were up to. He must have said something to them about me, because soon I could feel their eyes on me. I was a spectacle in the one place in the world I felt the most comfortable.