Ballers: His Game (Ballers Series Book 1) Read online

  “So what made you want to be a lawyer,” I hear rumble from beside me.

  I turn and narrow my eyes at him. “I have not had enough to drink to sit here and tell you my life story. So let’s not and say we did,” I say and turn back to people watch.

  From the corner of my eye I watch him signal to the waitress and she brings him another beer a few minutes later. An hour later he is still sitting beside me having gone through beer after beer. Stacey has not returned yet. I have finished the champagne and have started on the second bottle that arrived. I should feel bad that I am drinking the expensive bottles and ignoring this guy totally, but I am a little too annoyed with Stacey to care.

  “So are you ready to talk yet,” he says beside me.

  I look over at him and his impish smile and laugh. He is seriously waiting for me to drink enough to talk to him. I’m not sure if I should be annoyed, flattered or alarmed. I turn toward him and cross my legs leaning my elbow on my thigh and placing my cheek in my palm.

  “Okay Dimples, what do you want to talk about,” I say with a small smile.

  He laughs and lifts a brow at me. “Dimples?”

  “Yup, that’s what I have named you. No names remember,” I shrug.

  “Okay Counselor,” he chuckles. “What made you want to be a lawyer?”

  “This again,” I sigh. “Okay, my dad was a lawyer and then became a judge. I’ve wanted to be one too for longer than I can remember. Why football?”

  “I never said I play football,” he says looking amused.

  “You didn’t have to, your neck and forearms gave you away,” I reply with a laugh.

  “You checking me out Counselor,” he says with an air of confidence.

  It is my turn to throw my head back and laugh. I laugh so hard my belly hurts and a tear slides out the corner of my eye. He looks at me with mock shock then gives me a half grin.

  “You’re very pretty when you laugh, but I don’t think you checking me out is that funny.”

  “Aw, Dimples I’m sorry,” I say trying to bite back my laughter. “My brother used to play until he injured his knee, my uncle played for Atlanta for years, and one of my best friends was not only married to a Pro but her father played for years. So I know a player when I see one.”

  “Sorry about your brother,” Dimples says with real concern.

  “He’ll be okay. He hasn’t been healing the way we all expected so he is going all organic and holistic now and it seems to be working much better.”

  “That’s great. A few of the guys on my team eat organic and all that. I thought about it but coach isn’t big on it so I haven’t done it yet,” he muses then takes a pull of his beer.

  “It’s made a difference for my brother. So… why football?”

  “My dad and brother have tossed a ball around with me back on the ranch for as long as I can remember,” he says with a reflective smile. “Don’t tell anyone but I suck as a ranch hand so I was never going to be any help to my dad. I guess I always wanted to play ball. I love the game.”

  I laugh again and give him a genuine smile. His eyes search mine as I laugh. Then his eyes dropped down to the twins that are sort of on display with the way I am sitting. I reach to place my fingertips under his chin and lift his head, bringing his eyes back to mine. “Up here Rookie,” I snort.

  His brows furrow and he reaches for my fingers wrapping my hand in his. “How do you know I am a rookie?”

  I am shocked by the surge of electricity I feel from his touch. I snatch my hand back and wrap my arms around my middle. I shrug and shake my head to clear it.

  “It’s in the sparkle in your eyes. It hasn’t jaded you yet and it hasn’t changed you yet. You still talk about the game with love not like a job. You’re built but not Pro built and you are still wearing that baby face, which says you just came out of college. You’re good enough to play because when you said you won it wasn’t just a, my team won, you said it with pride like you had a part in it.” I shrug and bite back the smug smile trying to make its way to my lips.

  “That is amazing,” he laughs. “So how is a woman like you still single?”

  “And who says I’m single?” I challenge.

  “There is a lack of sparkle in your eyes. You are celebrating something great and if I were your man there is no way I wouldn’t be here celebrating with you. There’s no ring on your finger. As beautiful and amazing as you are, any sane man would brand you in any way he could to claim you as his own,” he replies with a heated stare.

  I feel his words down low. I clench my thighs and squirm a little. Why in the world is it suddenly so warm in here? I fill my glass and gulp it down before looking at him again. He licks his full lips and I find myself staring at them. I think I have officially had too much to drink, but damn if his lips aren’t full and sort of sexy. Okay, really sexy.

  “Relationships are distractions. Women like me can’t afford those kinds of distractions. As soon as you set out to accomplish goals a man just gets in the way. So I made myself a promise to swear men off until I graduated from college, passed the bar exam and landed my dream job.”

  “So I know you accomplished two of those, how are you doing on the other one?” He asks as his eyes rake my body.

  “That would be a checkmate,” I say with a smile.

  “So you are free to date now,” he says with his brow raised.

  I laugh and slide over to sit closer to him. He watches my every move with a smile on his face. I look up at him and smile.

  “Let’s find you a girl so you can go celebrate Rookie,” I chuckle, “How about her?” I tipped my glass toward the bar to a brunette talking to a group of girls.

  He follows the line of my glass and points with his chin. “The one in the pink dress?”

  “Yup,” I let the p pop.

  “Nice face but look at her ankles,” he murmurs.

  I look down to see she has on shoes that look too tight and her ankles look swollen. My head falls against his shoulder as I laugh hard. I can feel his body shake and hear his rumbling laughter.

  “She does have kankles. Oh my gosh. Those poor shoes,” I cry. I compose myself and start to scan the room again. “What about her the tall one in black,” I point my glass toward the edge of the dance floor to a lithe blonde.

  “I plead the fifth,” he laughs.

  “What? What is wrong with her?” I frown and look up at him.

  “I like my women with meat on their bones. Not to mention I’m six five, I think she might be taller than me,” he teases. He is clearly exaggerating. She may be six feet tall.

  I break into a fit of giggles and shake my head at him. I scan the room again trying to find a better match. He snakes his arm around my waist splaying his large hand against my belly and points across from us with his beer.

  “I think it’s my turn,” he says against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.

  Maybe I am just sexually frustrated or something. I have to blink a few times when he starts to absentmindedly rub small circles against my flat belly with his thumb. I have all types of butterflies in my tummy. I take a deep breath and follow his gaze.

  “The one with the platinum and black shirt,” he says.

  Once the description is out of his mouth my head snaps back toward him. His face is mere inches from mine. I pull back a little. “Dimples, the description of that shirt alone cut, blocked and sealed him from ever making the list,” I laugh.

  He chuckles and looks back at the bar. “Okay,” he tips his beer bottle like an arrow once again, “The tall one over there with the other two guys.”

  I look at the tall light skin guy he is pointing to. He is nice looking but one close look and that will be a big no. I look up, start to laugh and shake my head. “Turn on your gaydar, honey. He is batting for the wrong team but if you think he is cute I’ll go talk to him for you.”

  He shrugs looks around then gives me a little squeeze. “What about him?” he nods and I follow his gesture.
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br />   I shake my head and smile. “I actually know him and although he has asked me out a few times before he is not my type,” I say with a smile and a wink.

  He has pointed out a friend of Stacey’s, Paul. He is a nice looking guy, tall, dark hair and green eyes. He works out a lot too. I’ve just never been interested.

  “Meaning he’s white?” he asks with drawn eyebrows and tense eyes.

  “I guess,” I say honestly.

  “So this poor white boy never stood a chance,” he teases and gives me a sad face.

  “Oh my gosh, Dimples,” I gasp. “You’re white?”

  He laughs deep, sending the vibration through me. His eyes sparkle when he looks down at me. He bites his lip and shakes his head. “Nope, I think the lighting in here is off,” he says and starts to whistle and look around.

  I laugh and elbow him in his side. He looks down at me and my lips and gives me that official panty melting smile. He is still making those darn circles with his thumb. I am ready to lose it. I pull away and slide over a few inches.

  “Game over,” I murmur.

  “Oh no,” he says. Sliding to follow me, he places his arm back around me. “We’re having so much fun.”

  I sigh. “If it means I get to find you someone to go bother, fine.” I look out toward the dance floor again. “Look right there, she has a nice rack. Her butts not bad and she is average height, and since you don’t seem opposed to others she is perfect.”

  I am pointing out a Hispanic looking girl who really is decent. He looks toward her and sweeps her with his eyes then holds his hand up in a so-so gesture and shrugs. He looks back to me.

  “She’s okay, but look at her skirt. It’s so short she may moon us if she bends over, which means she is looking for someone to find their way up there and I would be far from the first and eons from the last.”

  I burst into laughter and tears. Her skirt is really short, but hearing him say it the way he did with that drawl and his description, I can’t help the laughter. I wipe at the tears and place my hand on his shoulder.

  “You have to help me out here,” I giggle. “What are you looking for?”

  He looks down at my mouth and sets his beer down on the table. In the next minute his large hands are plucking me out of my seat and dropping me into his lap. He rubs his palm up and down my back, searching my face.

  “You,” he breathes and I feel it straight to my very core.

  I am so stunned that it takes a few seconds to realize he is slowly leaning into me. I blink back my surprise and scramble off his lap. This time I put more distance between us when I sit back down.

  “Listen, it’s late and my family is doing the whole party thing for me tomorrow. I should probably be going,” I say and pull out my phone to look at the time.

  He reaches in his pocket and retrieves his phone. He swipes his finger across the screen then looks up at me and frowns. He turns the phone toward me.

  “I think your friend left with my buddy,” he says almost like he is apologizing for Stacey.

  “Oh, um, I’ll just take a cab,” I reply as I read his text then look back at my phone to see a similar message from Stacey.

  “You had a lot to drink. I have a car waiting for me. I could give you a ride home if you like,” he says with concern.

  “No that’s fine,” I say and stand up. I turn to leave and the room spins with me. He is right behind me steadying me with his hands on my waist.

  I turn to face him and have to take a step back and put my head back. Man he is really tall and I have on heels. He smiles down at me and snakes an arm around my waist.

  “At least let me walk you out and make sure you get in a cab,” he says with a bit of a plea in his voice.

  “Ok,” I consent.

  I am more wasted than I thought. He stops at the bar to close his tab and pay the bill, asking for a bottle of water for me. I guzzle the water but still need his help walking out of the club. The fresh air helps, but only a little.

  “Hey, are you sure I can’t give you a ride home? I would feel better if I did, you are pretty drunk,” he says with concern.

  I look up at him nervously and chew on my bottom lip. He has been really nice all night and I am probably safer with him than in a cab with a driver I really don’t know. I bounce in place as indecision wars in my head.

  “Okay,” I sigh heavily and he seems to relax.

  He helps me over to his waiting Limousine and I slide inside. He gets in after me and sits close. I kick off my shoes and lean against his arm.

  “You remind me of my brother,” I murmur sleepily. “A big old bear, safe and ready to protect, are you soft and cuddly?”

  “Not right now, sweetheart,” he replies huskily.

  I ignore his insinuation and wiggle under his big arm. “Mmm, you’ll do just fine,” I yawn and snuggle into him.

  He brushes my hair out of my face and cups my cheek. “Sweetheart, you have to give the driver your address,” he chuckles.

  “Oh, right,” I say and pop up, “but no personal information.”

  I crawl over to the window bordering between us and the driver and knock. He rolls the window down and I lean to whisper my address to him. He chuckles and nods his head.

  “You got it,” I chirp.

  “Yes, ma’am. We’ll get you home,” he says with a nod of his head.

  “Great,” I slur and crawl back over to Dimples.

  He is smiling at me and laughing. This time I crawl into his lap and wrap my arms around his neck. His arms tighten around me and I snuggle in.

  “Perfect,” I murmur before passing out.

  Chapter 2

  I feel someone gently shaking me out of my sleep. I open my eyes to find a pair of blue ones staring down at me. I blink a few times and he smiles.

  “You’re home Sweetheart, wake up,” he says softly. I try to peel myself off of him but he tightens his grip. “Here hold onto your purse.”

  He ducks out of the car taking me with him in his arms like I am nothing more than a football. He turns and asks the driver to hand him my shoes, letting him hook them onto his fingers. He turns making his way up the path to my front door and sets me on my feet before it. I fish out my keys and open the door stumbling inside.

  “Counselor,” he calls from behind me. I look over my shoulder at him and raise my brow in question. “Your shoes Darlin’.”

  “You can drop them right there,” I point. “After you come in and shut the door.”

  I turn and start for the kitchen again. I hear the door shut behind me then the sound of his heavy footfalls as he follows me. I pull out a glass and pour myself some wine.

  “I think my brother left some beer here. Would you like one?”

  I look up to find him watching me. “Sure,” he replies. “Can I use your restroom?”

  “Yeah, first door on the right.” I point him in the right direction.

  I open the refrigerator and pull out a cold beer and open it. I set it on the counter for when he comes back. I decide to go use the bathroom in my room while he is doing the same in the powder room. When I am finished I go back to pick up my glass and the bottle and go into the living room. I sit down on one side of the couch and he sits on the other end nursing his beer.

  “Tell me about football without getting into personal information,” I say as I pull my feet up and turn toward him.

  He gives me a huge grin and starts with his father teaching him the game. I listen to him as his voice pulls me in. The more he talks, the more I sip at the wine and the closer to him I move. Until I am right beside him and my knee brushes his thigh.

  “And here I am now, a pro player,” he says with a great big smile. “What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “For starters, not that I am one, as we established at the club,” he says with a smile, “but why the aversion to white men?”

  I shrug. “Never really thought about it, I guess I’ve never really been attracted to one before.”
I wrinkle my nose thinking about it. “It’s not that I haven’t thought of any of them as attractive I just never seen myself with a white guy. Don’t take it personal. I haven’t been with any type of man, white, black, purple, or orange in seven years.”

  I look up at him through my lashes and he is giving me that hungry gaze again. This man is really attracted to me, but that is not what is bothering me. I think I am really attracted to him. All of Stacey’s comparisons in the differences between different races of men start to roll through my brain. Could I do this, be with a white guy? It’s just one night and the thought of his hands on me in the club has me thinking that this may be something I actually want.

  The next thing I do surprises us both. I pull my tight blue dress up to free my thighs so I can straddle him and sit in his lap. I brush a lock of hair from his forehead and nuzzle his cheek. His stubble tickles my nose and feels nicer than I thought it would.

  “You know you’re sort of handsome,” I breathe as I tangle my fingers in his hair. “You’re sort of really handsome.”

  I brush my lips across his once, twice, a third time and he snaps. He palms the back of my neck and nips my bottom lip causing me to moan and open for him. He groans and grasps my thighs pushing my dress up more.

  His kiss is hungry but not sloppy like I was expecting. I don’t mind giving him control, I kind of like it. And boy does he take control. He deepens the kiss and cups my butt in his huge hands. I moan, grinding against him.

  “Darlin’, you had a lot to drink. Are you sure you want to do this?” He pants as he breaks the kiss to look into my eyes.

  “If you don’t want me just say it and we can go back to talking,” I tease.

  He curses and crushes his lips to mine. His tongue sweeps my mouth and his hands are everywhere. He scoops me up and stands.

  “Bedroom Sweetheart, where,” he growls.

  I point up the hallway, “The door at the end of the hall.”

  We are in my room with him kicking the door shut in a flash. He toes his shoes off without putting me down or breaking the kiss. Before I can think I am on my back on the bed and he is over me palming and lifting my back with one hand and reaching for my zipper, tugging it down with the other.