The Baller: A Down and Dirty Football Novel(25)

Wow. I wasn’t about to mention that I’d been ready to give in to his sex-only arrangement. I guess I’d won the battle of the holdout. By about thirty seconds. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes. I’d like to try, too. You’re an arrogant ass. But there’s something about you I like.”

He picked up my other hand and brought it to his lips, dropping a sweet kiss on the top. “Awesome. Dinner, then f*cking? Or f*cking, then dinner?

“Gee. How is a girl to decide with such titillating choices?”

“Flip a coin. Heads—you give me. Tails—I take yours. It’s a total win-win for you.” He winked. “By the way, I really like when you work ‘tit’ into our conversation, dirty girl.”

I laughed. “How about we start with an actual date?”

“Let’s go.”

“Not so fast.”

Brody looked like I’d kicked his puppy. “What?”

“If we’re going to do this, let’s start it right. You have a game tomorrow. I want a real date. How about next weekend?”

“No way.”

“Impatient much?”

“Patience is bitter. It's the fruit that’s sweet.”

“Did you just quote Aristotle?”

“Maybe.” He yanked the hand he was holding, pulling me against him hard. “Dinner. Wednesday night. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“Okay.”

“Now kiss me already, goddamn it.”

I didn’t have time to respond. In a heartbeat, his lips were on mine. His arms wrapped possessively around me, pulling me snugly against him. My knees went weak. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I would have sworn there was a mass of butterflies flapping their wings in the pit of my stomach. With a groan that echoed through our mouths and vibrated down my entire body, he licked my lips and nudged my mouth open. His tongue aggressively pursued mine and then took everything I gave. The desperation and intensity of the kiss was like nothing I’d ever felt before. My hands dug into his hair as he grabbed a handful of mine and tugged my head back further to where he wanted me. I whimpered, feeling desire flow from him and wrap around me. I moaned when I felt his hard-on pushing up against my stomach.

Holy shit.

We stayed like that for a long time. Grabbing and groping. Pulling and needing. When he finally released my mouth, he sucked on my bottom lip and released a hungry groan. “Overnight bag. Bring a bag Wednesday. Because there’s no way I’m letting you go again.”





Chapter 11


Brody “You know, when I was a kid they had real football players. They wore leather helmets and didn’t have bi—weeks. What kind of a sissy athlete needs a week off in the middle of the season?”

“When you were a kid, they kept score by chiseling X marks into stone.” I tossed a jersey to Grouper. Next week was a designated throwback week, when the team wore replica uniforms from years back. I’d ordered an extra for Grouper III. “Tell Guppy I signed it with a washable marker this time. Don’t want his mother getting another smelly-boy call from the school.”

Grouper held it up and sighed nostalgically. “I remember this uniform. This was from the non-*-player period.”

“Bite me, old man.”

Marlene was sitting on the edge of her bed, a floral swim cap on her head. She was scribbling some notes on her notepad while the closing credits of The Price Is Right rolled on the TV screen behind her. Guess I’m late today.

“Going swimming, Marlene?” I leaned in and kissed her cheek.

She looked up at me blankly. “Are you the bus driver?”

“No. I’m Brody. Remember?”

She still looked confused.

“I used to live next door.”

Recognition registered. “Willow’s Brody.” She looked around me. “Is she with you today?”

“Not today, Marlene.”

“She didn’t want to come?”

I hated when she asked me these questions. Sometimes it was easier when she didn’t remember who I was. “She’s working on an art project up at my cabin. You know how she can get when she’s working.”

That seemed to pacify her. So I changed the subject to one of her favorites. “How did you do today on your show?”

She looked down at her notepad. “I would have won the whole shebang. The woman who was in the finale, Kathryn, her name was, only had one oar in the water.”

“They can’t all be like you. Or it wouldn’t be much of a game, would it?”

“That Barker’s microphone is too skinny. I don’t know what he’s trying to prove.”

I chuckled. “Yeah. I’m not sure on that one either.”

Marlene took the remote off her nightstand and flicked the TV off.

“What time is swimming? I didn’t realize they changed the schedule.”

“Eleven.”

I looked down at my watch. It was five after twelve.

Marlene and I shot the shit for a while, and eventually Shannon walked in, carrying a small clear plastic shot glass containing a few pills. She handed them to Marlene with a cup of water.

“Are they running late for swimming?” I asked.