Bossy Baller: A Hero Club Novel

by Melissa Belle

  I sigh. “God, you really are bossy, aren’t you? Are you like this on the football field?”

  “Yep. I’m always yelling for the ball.” He flashes me a grin. “Because I know throwing to me gives my team the best chance to win.”

  Well, he’s hot when he’s bossy off the field. I bet he’s twice as hot being the boss in a game.

  “So, tonight…”

  “Tonight we sleep.” He shifts me toward my bed. “Let’s go.”

  He must be a damn saint because he turns around while I take off my sundress and slip into his clothes for the second night in a row.

  “All set.” I climb under the covers, and Maverick pulls them over my shoulders.

  “Will you sleep with me?” I ask him. “I swear not to jump you.”

  “Hannah…” He sounds like he’s in pain.

  “What?”

  His tense expression relaxes, and he brushes the back of his hand gently across my cheek. “Nothing. Of course I’ll sleep with you. Be right back.”

  Ten minutes later, I’m already half-asleep when Maverick slides in behind me in the queen-sized bed. His strong arm covers my body, and he pulls me back against him.

  His lips brush the shell of my ear. “Goodnight, Hannah.”

  “Goodnight, Mav.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Maverick

  I keep my arm wrapped around Hannah as her breathing evens out. My dick is hard as nails right now, and I’m trying like hell to keep my lower body separated from hers.

  As she sighs in her sleep, she presses her ass against my groin.

  I barely suppress a groan as I slowly withdraw my arm from her warm, soft body and shift onto my back.

  Fuck, I’m hot. I strip off my t-shirt, leaving me in just my boxers.

  I take deep, calming breaths, willing my dick to get under control.

  Hannah’s request for sex didn’t come as a surprise, exactly. I’m used to women asking for a night of mutual pleasure. But I’m not used to a woman like Hannah.

  She was…different in her approach. More real. And the thing about it is…I want her. I’ve wanted her from the moment I saw her even though she was off-limits.

  If I’m completely honest with myself, I want her for more than just one night.

  But I can’t go there. Not once, not twice, and not endless times like I crave.

  Because despite what she said, I already know that letting Hannah Walsh go at the end of this road trip will be far from easy.

  I need easy right now. Football is going to be tough as hell. Supporting my three brothers until they’re old enough to stand on their own is going to take an all-out effort. I do that by staying healthy and staying focused on my career. One injury, and I lose everything. And supporting my dad, who sacrificed so much for me, is a gift I’ve wanted to repay for years.

  So, my love life needs to stay on the back burner. Meaning, Hannah and I can’t get involved.

  She turns again in the bed, and this time, she flings an arm and a leg over my body.

  Christ. Still on my back, I scoot farther to the left in the bed, but she follows me like an octopus clinging to its prey. Her heavy breathing lets me know she’s still sound asleep, so I give up fighting her unconscious advances. I lift my hand and place it gently on her head.

  And then, I run my fingers through her thick, midnight hair. She’s still got an elastic band wrapped around it, and I gently undo the elastic until her hair is loose and flowing.

  She sighs in her sleep and burrows into my chest.

  The ache I feel there isn’t physical. But I don’t want to analyze what it is. That would mean I’d have to take a closer look at what this road trip is turning into, and I’m not prepared to do that.

  Because no matter how much I like my copilot, when the trip ends, so does whatever this is between us.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Hannah

  Oh, shit.

  That’s thought number one on the morning of my twenty-third birthday as last night’s events come flooding back to me.

  God, Maverick’s bare chest is warm against me is thought number two.

  And thought number three?

  I need to get out of this bed before he wakes up.

  My eyes feel like two paperweights are on them. I roll away from Maverick quietly. Just as I’ve got one leg dangling off the mattress, a strong arm bands across my waist and drags me backward. My back makes contact with Maverick’s chest.

  I squeeze my eyes shut. “Good morning,” I say softly into the air.

  “Happy birthday, Hannah.”

  “Thank you.” Before I can apologize for last night, and possibly ask him to forget he ever heard my humiliating proposition, he adds quietly, “We need to talk.”

  Oh, God. Here’s where he’s going to reject me. He’ll try to be kind and let me down easy.

  But it will still sting.

  Because I like Maverick. And I want to move past Craig. I need to move past Craig. My relationship with Maverick is the opposite of Craig. It’s simple and uncomplicated, and I like that. Sex with him would be perfect as a rebound. And we could say goodbye without angst.

  “Can it wait?” I slip out from under his arm. “I have to shower.”

  Once I’m safely locked inside the bathroom, I look into the mirror.

  I’m wearing his clothes again.

  Not complicated, my ass.

  This trip has gone from a getaway ride to something undefined.

  Undefined has always scared me. Life without rules is dangerous. Like the driver who fell asleep at the wheel and crossed the line, killing my parents, we all need firm lines in our life.

  And yet, with Maverick, I just told him last night I was willing to throw away the rules.

  I stare into the mirror at my pale, hungover reflection.

  Am I?

  Maverick goes to work out at the hotel gym while I take my time getting ready for the day.

  I pair green shorts with a pink, white-laced tank top that has a built-in bra. With this heat, I want to wear as little as possible. I brush my dark hair until it’s smooth and has lost some of that tangled feel from being on the road. Grabbing an elastic, I pull half of my hair up into a knot and fasten it with the elastic.

  Maverick returns to the room just as I’m stepping into my sandals. He’s all sweaty and breathing hard.

  “Hey.”

  I stare back at him in silence, mesmerized by how drop-dead gorgeous this man is.

  “The gym was really nice,” he says, not seeming to notice my mouth hanging open.

  I slam my jaw shut and nod.

  “Do you work out?” he asks me as he tugs at his shirt by the neck.

  I can’t answer him, because one more tug and the shirt comes over his head and is dropped onto the floor.

  And my mouth drops right along with it.

  Because Maverick’s body…holy hell.

  I felt his bare chest this morning in bed, but I didn’t get a look. And right now, I’m getting an eyeful.

  The visuals are impressive. From his muscled chest to his washboard abs, his body doesn’t appear to have an ounce of fat. My gaze drags further down—past his abs to the dark trail of hair leading into his gym shorts.

  Maverick’s voice gets my attention. “Hey. Hannah. Up here.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  I look up to find him shaking with laughter.

  I know I must be beet red. “I was just…”

  “Objectifying me,” he says, still laughing.

  “I was not!” I protest. “I was simply…”

  I search for a word that doesn’t prove his point, and he stands motionless and waits.

  “Admiring!” I finally say. “I was admiring your hard work to get a body like that.”

  His eyes brighten. “I appreciate the compliment for my ‘hard’ work.”

  I pick up a pillow and toss it at him. It hits the toe of his sneaker.

  He bends down and picks it up. “Is thi
s fair game?” he teases me. “Can I throw it back at you?”

  I start walking backward. “Sure.”

  In a second, the pillow is flying straight for me. I keep backing up until my legs hit the bed, and I catch the pillow in my arms as I collapse onto the mattress.

  Maverick advances upon me until he cages me in with both his hands resting on the mattress on either side of my body.

  The air around us thickens, and I want nothing more than Maverick’s hands all over me. My lightweight clothing feels far too heavy, and I want to rip it off of me.

  His dark eyes fix on me, and I feel myself tremble under his gaze.

  We’re both breathing heavily as he continues to stare at me.

  His mouth is the closest it’s ever been to mine, and I drop my gaze to his lips as he murmurs, “I like your tank top.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  “Welcome.” He leans in closer.

  And closer. Until…

  His lips graze mine.

  A quick closed-mouth peck, and his lips are gone. Before I can even react, he’s standing and heading for the shower.

  “What was that for?” I call after him.

  “A birthday kiss.” I can hear the smile in his voice.

  I wait until he’s shut the bathroom door to let out a long exhale. I hug the pillow to my chest, willing myself to breathe normally.

  If a simple peck from Maverick makes my body go this haywire, I can’t even comprehend what an actual kiss would feel like.

  Our room came with a complimentary breakfast, so after Maverick has showered and changed, we head down to the buffet.

  “They have a waffle maker!” I grab Maverick’s hand without thinking and drag him over to the waffle stand off to the side of the buffet.

  “Sorry, it’s broken,” the server says.

  I turn away, trying to hide my disappointment.

  “Do you know if there’s another waffle maker in the kitchen so we can order them directly off the menu instead?” Maverick asks the server.

  I tap his arm. “I’m good. It’s not a big deal.”

  He looks at me. “We can go somewhere else for breakfast. There are endless options in Vegas.”

  “I’m fine. Let’s eat here. We have the coupons and everything.”

  He cups my cheek in his hand. “You sure? You’re the birthday girl.”

  I swallow at his term of endearment. “I know I said this before, but you’re really super sweet,” I tell him. “And I would like to stay here and eat.”

  “Okay.” He says he’s going to use the restroom and he’ll be right back.

  I check my phone messages while he’s gone. Kia called to wish me a happy birthday. I send her back a quick text and tell her I’ll let her know once we’re close to Chicago.

  She texts me back immediately.

  How’s the guy?

  I didn’t want to talk about Maverick to Kia until I had to. She’s sure to be overly-enthusiastic about what could be, and that’s the kind of pressure I don’t need right now. But I can’t help from saying—

  He’s good. He’s handsome and nice, and I’m glad I met him.

  Lots of dots appear and then disappear before her reply comes through.

  Are you fucking him? And how hot is he?

  No. And on a scale of 1-100, he’s 1000.

  The dots go crazy across my screen and then disappear. Then they come back. Then they disappear.

  By the time she’s coherent enough to type a response, Maverick’s back.

  “You ready to get food?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  I look down at my screen as I follow him to the buffet.

  A thousand??? Girl, who is this guy? And why are you not fucking him?

  Because I’m two days out of a relationship, I type back. I have to go.

  Two days out of prison! She writes immediately. Go. For. It.

  Maverick glances back at me. “You okay?”

  I smile brightly. “Yep.”

  Goodbye, Kia. Love you.

  As we grab clean plates and start to wander through the buffet, I watch how a professional athlete fills a plate when the food is unlimited.

  “This is amazing,” he says to me as he insists on adding a second strip of bacon to my plate. “I’m starved.”

  “Because you actually worked out this morning,” I say. “All I’ve done is attempt to clear my hangover.”

  While I’m talking, he tosses two pancakes onto my plate.

  I try to shove them back to him, but he just walks onward to the bin of hash browns.

  “Hey! Mr. Court.” I hurry to catch him. “Not all of us play a sport for a living.”

  “You need to eat well this morning,” he says. “We’ve got a long day of traveling ahead of us.”

  I do love a good breakfast. Craig hated to eat before work; all he ever wanted was a coffee and maybe a bowl of fruit. Because we rode together, I got used to eating what he ate and scheduling my meals around his free time.

  Eating like this with Maverick—where we’re putting pretty much whatever the hell we want on our plates and after nine a.m.—is refreshing.

  We take seats at a private table in the corner of the large cafeteria-style dining area. I’m worried he’s going to bring up how I propositioned him last night, but he doesn’t.

  Instead, he surprises me by chatting about easy topics like where he’s going to live in Chicago and what kinds of things his little brothers are into. Surprising me is something I’m starting to learn is typical of Maverick.

  He doesn’t often do the expected thing. And usually, the unexpected is far better than what I would have predicted.

  “Do all your brothers want to be football players like you?” I ask him curiously.

  He rolls his shoulders. “They say they do. But they’re still so young. I want them to follow their own dreams and not feel boxed into following mine.”

  “You’re a good big brother,” I say. “I always wanted a sibling. But only one that I could be friends with when we grew up. My roomie from college is barely on speaking terms with her brother. It sounds awful.”

  “Sibling relationships can be challenging,” Maverick agrees. “I’m a lot older than mine, which makes it easier maybe.”

  I’m so focused on him and what he’s saying that I don’t notice anyone standing next to me until I hear…

  “Happy birthday, Hannah! Happy birthday to you!”

  Four servers keep singing cheerfully to me as one places a huge waffle covered in whipped cream and with a single lit candle sitting in the center.

  I gasp and look at Maverick.

  “How did you arrange this?” I furrow my brow. “Wait—was it when you said you were going to the restroom?”

  He just winks. “I wanted you to have a birthday waffle.”

  It’s the kindest thing anyone’s done for me on my birthday since my parents died.

  Emotion clogs my throat as I just stare back at Maverick like a fool.

  “Make a wish.” He gestures to the candle. “Ask for something good.”

  I have no idea what to wish for at this moment.

  But I know who I wish were here. And even if it’s impossible, I’m going to send up a hello anyway.

  Miss you, Mom. Even though you’re not with me in person, thanks for finding a way to get me a birthday waffle.

  I take a breath and blow out the flame.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  We’re in the truck and leaving the Vegas limits when Maverick says all casually, “So. Last night.”

  I cringe. “Please forget what I said. I was drunk.”

  “I know.”

  “Good. Right. So, can we just pretend it never happened?”

  “Pretend what never happened?” He glances over at me as we come to a stoplight.

  I wave my hands in the air like I can magically make this awkward-ass conversation come to a merciful end. “Pretend that, you know. Pretend I never propositioned you. Please. O
r better yet, forget it ever happened. That would probably be easiest.”

  “Do you want me to forget it?” Maverick asks me carefully. “Is that your birthday wish?”

  Why didn’t I wish for that? “Yes,” I say.

  Silence.

  Then—

  “Okay,” he says. “Consider it forgotten.”

  Thank God.

  Except—

  I still want to have sex with him.

  Just one time.

  Okay, maybe twice.

  But I don’t want to say it sober. It would make me seem desperate, and I’m not desperate. I’m just looking for a rebound.

  “Unless…” Maverick says as he drags the word out slowly.

  I bring my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them tightly. “Unless what?” I say in a voice barely above a whisper.

  “Unless you do want me to fuck you.”

  I bang my head against the back of the seat. “You’re dirty.”

  “I am. Do you like it?” His hand reaches over. He unclasps my hand from my knee and takes it into his. “Do you want me to be bossy in bed, Hannah?”

  Oh, shit. My panties are going to be soaked if he keeps going.

  “Because I think you do. I think you like the idea of me being bossy when I fuck you.”

  I do like it.

  The idea of giving up control to Maverick for a night turns me on as much as it terrifies me.

  “Your call.” His thumb strokes my hand. “I’m up for whatever you want.”

  “I want to,” I say in a husky tone I don’t even recognize as mine.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Maverick

  I think you like the idea of me being bossy when I fuck you.

  Christ. I should wash my own fucking mouth out with soap.

  I spent most of last night listing off the reasons in my head why I can’t fuck Hannah.

  And here I am the very next morning—kissing her happy birthday, something that was completely unplanned, and now flirting with her and talking dirty to her.

  Maybe if I kiss her—really kiss her—I can let her go without taking it further.