Balls: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (A Cruz Boys Novel Book 1) (6 page)

I had no clue what he was like on a personal level. All my interactions with him thus far showed me he was an arrogant ass that maybe, just maybe, had an ounce of humanity.

Maybe.

What about what he did for those kids in the crowd? Probably grandstanding for the media. An act for the cameras.

Except he also stood up for me in the meeting. The Meeting. The one where we first started dating. That probably wasn’t the kind of story the ladies around me expected to hear. And it definitely wasn’t one I was going to volunteer.

Leonardo had the ball now on the near side of the expansive field. Even in practice, his intensity never wavered. He challenged for every ball like the world depended on it. Like the Cup depended on it. He fought and scraped for every inch of forward progress like a madman.

Watching him was mesmerizing. His body moved with the certainty and grace of an animal born for this medium, like an eagle soaring on an updraft or diving at prey below. His muscles rippled through the tight jersey. He looked dangerous. A predator among prey.

Truly, The Lion of Spain.

He feinted to the left and tapped the ball through a defender’s wide stance, ran around and retrieved it, continued on at top speed. The goalkeeper charged out of his goal in an attempt to cut down on the angle of attack. Leonardo faked a shot which caused the keeper to stumble. In that fraction of a second of hesitation, he chipped the ball over the keeper’s head. He turned and began walking back toward midfield as the ball bounced and then rolled into the open net.

One of the ladies next to me hissed. A dyed blonde with boobs so big it was a shock she didn’t need a back brace.

“Why does he always have to make my Miguelito look like an idiot?”

Hoping she didn’t expect an answer for me, I kept quiet. Besides what would I have said?

My man is just that much better than your man.

It didn’t seem like a good way to make friends. Not that I cared. Rather, it seemed like a great way to make enemies. And I wanted to avoid that if possible.

Coach blew his whistle as the ball rolled into the goal.

“Start again!”

The enclosed stadium caught the warm spring sun above and kept the temperature at field level comfortably warm for those of us not doing much on the sidelines.

Leonardo lifted his jersey and wiped the sweat from his brow. The hard ridges of his stomach stood out in stark relief. Rodrigo Romero, his teammate from the locker-room incident, slapped his butt as he jogged by. For such testosterone-filled man hunks, they sure touched each other’s butts a lot. Leonardo followed his friend until his line of sight passed me.

He paused, staring.

Oh my God.

Should I wave at him? Should I blow a kiss? Should I jump up and down, screaming my head off? What did the girlfriend of the most famous soccer player in the world do when he scored?

I sat there frozen like a statue, not knowing which was the right answer.

He smiled. A mischievous smirk that told me I might have seen him score, but I hadn’t seen anything yet. He jogged over to the section where all of the significant others were imprisoned.

“Alex, honey, it’s great to see you.”

He reached over the railing and grabbed my hand. He started to pull me away from the others.

I resisted. “I’m supposed to stay here.” I pointed to the box of seats that corralled a bunch of fashionably casual hens.

He arched an eyebrow at me. “You need to learn when to break the rules.”

“I broke the rules to get your interview and look where it got me.”

Before I could resist, he lifted me over the railing and carried me down the field, away from everyone else. He finally set me on my feet as gently as a snowflake landing on a blade of grass.

“Leonardo, I wanted to talk about this … arrangement.”

“I knew you did. So talk.”

His blue-gray eyes stroked down my body to my feet and then back up again. An electric tingle trailed across my skin in their wake.

My mind went blank. Whatever I had wanted to say no longer had meaning. It wasn’t the words that were a problem. It was the thoughts that formed them.

There were none.

“You look sweet enough to eat.” He ran his tongue over his bottom lip.

I blushed, having no doubt about his meaning. My breath came in short, ragged gasps. Being the sole focus of his laser attention was overwhelming. It was like he created a bubble around us, and the outside world was a pale, gray remote thing. But here inside the bubble, between us, everything was uncomfortably vibrant. The faint smell of his effort intoxicating. The bead of sweat rolling down his neck hypnotizing. The impression of his thickness through his shorts a scandalous promise.

One my body was already begging him to keep.

He took my hand in his larger, rougher one.

“Starstruck? I get that all the time.”

I yanked my hand free. “Do you have to be such a jerk?”

“We’re not about to have our first fight, are we?” He laughed. “And things were going so well.”

My jaw locked down. My hands balled up into fists.

“Easy now. I’m messing with you,” he said.

My blood boiled. “Messing with me? You’re screwing up my life, my future.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who snuck into the dressing room. You did that. It was your brilliant plan that got us both here in the first place.”

My fault? It was all my fault?

He continued, “I’m trying to fix this disaster.”

“Fix this disaster?” I said in a voice barely below a shout. I’d never met someone so skilled at pissing me off. “Oh, thank you, Your Grace. Thank you for fixing my disastrous life.”

He grinned. “You’re a fiery one. I like that.”

“No, I’m not usually so emotional. But then again, I don’t normally get insulted by my fake boyfriend.”

He screwed his lips to the side and nodded. “Yep, we’re fighting. Our first fight. We should try to remember this moment. Are you into flowers? What about tulips?”

“What?”

“I’m wondering what I should buy you,” he said, “ to say I’m sorry.”

“I’m allergic to most flowers. And can you ever be serious for one minute?”

The levity in his voice and in his posture bled away.

“I absolutely can. I love tulips. Your
two lips
.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Will you marry me?” he asked.

He started to go down on one knee and I yanked him back up.

“Unbelievable!”

He grabbed my hand before I could tuck it behind my back. “You’re sexy, Alexis. I’m getting hard right now.”

My jaw fell open.

“You want my cock in your mouth?”

I snapped it shut. “I’d bite it off.”

He placed my hand on the hard lump in his shorts.

“I’d love for you to try.”

I punched him in the stomach with my free hand. It felt like punching a wall.

He let go of my hand.

“You can put it back there if you want,” he said.

“I don’t want, thank you very much!”

His eyes dropped to my chest, to my cleavage. I knew I should’ve worn a turtleneck.

“I want to bury my face right there,” he said.

I blinked hard to keep my brain from overloading right then and there.

“Do you just say whatever thing pops into your head?”

He nodded. “Mostly, yeah.”

“And that works for you?”

He nodded again. “Mostly, yeah. Why? Is it working on you? Are you damp down there?”

I laughed, an embarrassed cackle.

“No!” I said.

I was, but I wasn’t about to advertise it.

“I can’t wait to sink deep inside you,” he said. “I’m seriously rock hard right now.”

“You’re insane.”

And I was crazy for liking it.

He touched my waist. “Listen, we have to play this out.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Do you want to keep your job?”

He had me there.

“Okay. I’ll go along with the charade for now. But we have to break up soon.”

“Alexis, don’t break my heart. You haven’t even felt my tongue between your legs yet.”

A tingle sparked in that exact spot. I took a deep breath and steadied myself.

He squeezed my waist.

“What do you say?”

“I think you’re right,” I said.

His eyebrows jumped up. “You mean about my tongue?”

“No! Gross! I’m talking about fake-dating.”

“Oh, okay. We can start there.”

“That’s all we’re going to do and not one minute longer than is absolutely necessary.”

“Come on,” he said, “don’t make it sound so painful. You’re going to hurt my feelings.”

Somehow I seriously doubted that.

“So, how do we make this look real for everyone?” I asked.

He chuckled. “You never dated anyone?”

I was not about to go into the details of my romantic history, as limited and sordid as they were.

“I’ll make this easy,” he said. “We start with a kiss.”

That was his line?

The line to get a kiss from me?

It was so businesslike. And yet why did I want it so badly?

“Okay. A small one, for everyone watching.”

Leonardo waved off the focused attention of the surrounding people, of everyone that happened to be in the stadium at that moment.

“Don’t worry about them. They don’t matter. We do.”

And then he leaned in for a kiss.

I wasn’t ready!

But it was do it or run away screaming, and that didn’t sound much like the behavior of a happily dating couple.

So I kissed him.

His lips were firm and yet soft. Softer still was his tongue as it traced across my lower lip. A spark ignited deep in my core. A racing tingle shivered across my lips and settled in my ears. He tasted salty. A delicious, earthy taste.

We kissed for a few seconds, or maybe a few minutes. I couldn’t tell. He finally pulled away, and the air sucked out of my lungs leaving me feeling empty.

“I like you how you taste,” he said.

“Well, that’s good. I guess.”

What was I? A kindergartner? Was this the level of my game? To be honest, it probably was. I hadn’t had much of a game since that dark day with Robert.

The whistle tweeted several times and Coach yelled something that didn’t translate, coming from outside of our bubble as it did.

“So, we have a deal?” Leonardo asked.

“We do.”

“Alex, can I call you Alex?”

“It appears you just did.”

“Can you do something for me, Alex?”

“I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Call me Leo. All due respect to my mother, but Leonardo sounds like an old guy with a giant gray beard inventing gyrocopters and stuff.”

I nodded.

“Say it one time for me,” he said.

“Leo.”

He grinned, a self-assured smirk like he’d gotten away with something.
 

“I like the way I sound on your lips, in your mouth.”

He returned to the field before I could formulate a response that included something more than the blooming warmth between my legs.

And with that, we were officially fake-dating.

Leonardo

I hopped out of the car and didn’t like what I saw. A group of would-be gangsters huddled at the corner half a block down. The street light above their heads was noticeably busted out. Only the lights from apartment windows cast a dim glow onto the street below.

This was one of the rougher spots in Barcelona. A place a gorgeous lady like Alex shouldn’t be out in after dark.
 

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” I said to the driver.

He nodded and the doors locked the instant my door closed. Smart guy.

I crossed the street and pulled up to the dilapidated exterior of a brown brick building. It looked like it had been built in the 1800s and hadn’t seen a lick of upkeep since. Next to the door was a line of buttons with barely readable numbers next to them.

301.

I was about to push it when the bravest old lady in the world hobbled up behind me. She bumped me with her purse and I obligingly stepped aside.
 

She deserved some space. She’d done her time.

“Move it, young man,” she said.

She carried an overstuffed bag of groceries in one arm and a purse the size of carry-on luggage in her other.

“Let me help with you that,” I said.

She batted my hand away. “You think I was born yesterday?”

I definitely didn’t think that.

“I think you were born beautiful.”

Flattery was always my back-up plan.

She paused and looked up at me. Her eyes cleared and she smiled.

“I know you.”

Of course, she did. I grinned and nodded.

“I get that a lot.”

“You’re that weatherman from Channel four.”

I belted out an involuntary laugh.
 

I didn’t get
that
a lot.

“Is it going to rain next Friday? I have to take Fifi to the groomers on Friday and I do not like walking in the rain.”

I had no clue, but I wasn’t raised to disappoint old ladies.

“No, ma’am. I’m pretty certain it won’t rain this Friday.”

She smacked me with her purse. “That’s what you said three weeks ago and look what happened.”

“Sorry about that.”
 

What else was I supposed to say?

She dumped her bag into my arms. “I doubt you can be trusted with the weather, but I think my prunes are safe.”

“That they are,” I said with a smile.

She fumbled through her purse and found her keys after what could have been no less than six minutes. I’d have waited until kingdom come if that’s what it took. You earned a few privileges in your golden years. The patience of the younger folks was one of them.

I learned that growing up with Nonna and Nonno.

She got the door open and reached for her bag.

“Mind if I go in with you?”

“Young man, I am
not
that kind of woman. And if I was amenable to such a tryst with a handsome fellow like yourself, my days of hopping from bed to bed are long gone.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. She had a lot of spunk. I liked my women that way.

“Sorry, ma’am,” I said. “I meant to say that my girlfriend lives here, in 301.”