Balls (Cruz Boys #1) Read online

  I stroked the inside of her arm and breathed into her ear. A shiver cascaded down her back.

  “Are we talking about bikes here?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Are we?”

  The beat of the music began to change and the crowd roared. DJ Pussycat was stepping in for her set. It was the whole reason we were here.

  Aside from the shivering deity at my side.

  “May I have this dance?”

  Alex stared at me, an odd mix of amusement and skepticism on her face.

  “You know, you can be quite the charmer when you’re not being a schmuck.”

  “I’m the total package,” I said with a wink.

  I grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the railing, a spot where we could be closer to the music, closer to each other. And the spot where I could push forward and she couldn’t escape.

  The rhythm got faster, more urgent. And the bass got deeper, dirtier. A throaty grit that bypassed the filters in your brain and stoked the fires in your soul.

  Our bodies started to move. At first, apart and following our own rhythms.

  Her hips swayed and pulled at me like a tidal moon. She moved with a sultry grace, in that natural, unselfconscious way that everyone wishes they could.

  She was a goddess, one deserving my praise and devotion.

  I leaned my waist forward and, for the first time, she didn’t shy away. Her firm cheeks pressed into me. My cock strained so hard I thought it was about to explode. If a doctor could’ve measured my blood pressure on my shaft and on my arm, it would’ve said I was dead either way. The arm from a flatline response and the shaft from hypertension.

  I slid my hands forward over her hips and wrapped one over her tight stomach. I pulled her into me and heard a gasp as the length of my shaft flattened on her backside.

  Something inside me sparked. A spark I hadn’t felt before. It somehow felt deeper, more substantial, than anything I’d experienced before.

  She turned her head and yelled to be heard.

  “I saw some flashes going off down below. The public is eating this up. We’ll be all over social media tomorrow.”

  Was this a show for her?

  Because everything inside me screamed that this was the most real thing I’d ever done.

  “Let’s give them something to talk about,” I said.

  I leaned over and kissed her neck. I ran my tongue up to her little fleshy earlobe and nipped it with as gentle a bite as I could manage.

  Her butt ground into my crotch.

  It took every ounce of self-control I had not to tear her dress off and sink myself between her supple thighs.

  My hand on her belly dropped a little lower, and I pulled her closer. The muscles in my arms went rigid as I fought the impulse to crush her into me.

  I spun her around and pulled her close, my precarious hold on restraint melting away.

  I needed her. Like a drug.

  Like the cure.

  I lowered my head and kissed her lips, tasted the sweet salt of my favorite drink.

  My new favorite drink.

  Alex.

  My tongue glided across her lower lip and then slipped inside her mouth. After the slightest hint of hesitation, her lips parted and invited me in. Sparks blazed in my groin and others blazed in my brain.

  After what could’ve been seconds or hours, she pulled back and met my gaze. Her chest rose and fell in quick succession. She swallowed hard and licked her lips where mine had just been. Her eyes burned with a hot current.

  My body burned in her reflection.

  “I need you, Alex. I don’t know what it is about you. But it’s got me twisted up like you wouldn’t believe.”

  She smiled coyly, a sweet mix of innocence and exposed heat.

  “Are you saying you like me?”

  “I don’t like you. I need you. I can live without perfume. I can’t live without air. “

  “Are you saying you don’t like my perfume?” she asked with a teasing voice.

  She didn’t have to try to tease me. Her nearness was a tease. The thin patches of fabric that separated us were a tease.

  I buried my face in her hair and breathed in. The sweet smell was more intoxicating than everything the bartender had to offer, combined.

  I never believed in the idea of being controlled by pheromones, those invisible signals that were supposed to rule our unconscious decisions. I never believed it before, that is. But maybe that was because I’d never met my chemical match. The girl whose unique combination of attributes fit like the final piece of my puzzle.

  “You smell wonderful,” I said. “I never want to smell anything else.”

  She looked down and I wondered if I’d said something wrong.

  “What is it?” I lifted her chin and reconnected with the depths of her soul through the sparkling stained-glass windows of her eyes.

  “I’m not wearing any perfume.”

  I dropped my mouth to hers and again tasted her lips and tongue.

  A crash from behind us ended the infinite kiss too soon.

  Some guy had barged in and that smarmy manager was trying to shepherd him back out again.

  Alexis gasped. “Robert!”

  The intruder waved. “Hi, honey.”

  She grimaced in disgust. “Robert, what do you want?”

  I waved the manager off and decided to find out what the hell was going on myself.

  Alexis marched over and stood facing Robert with her hands on her hips. Those hips that a moment ago were sexy-as-sin were now squared-up and pissed-off.

  Who was this jerk?

  I walked up behind her, hoping he’d give me a reason to respond.

  “Why are you here?” Alexis asked him.

  “I could ask you the same thing. Fans of soccer worldwide could ask you the same thing.”

  The camera in his hand flashed a couple of times, digitally recording me standing in pissed-off mode.

  “But I didn’t come here to talk to you because you’re not the story. The Lion is the story. He’s what the fans want.”

  I slid around Alexis and balled my hand into a fist.

  “Listen Robert, I don’t know who you are and I don’t care. If you don’t take off, it’s not going to go well for you.”

  A look of terror skirted through his eyes before whatever was driving him regained control.

  “Leonardo, the fans want to know, is this used car your latest slut?”

  My fist smashed through his face before his eyes had a chance to blink. His knees gave out and he crashed to the fashionably tinted concrete floor. His eyes rolled up into his head and he was out. There was no need to continue the lesson.

  But I didn’t always do things out of necessity alone.

  That would’ve been a decent ending to the intrusion. And the insult. But it didn’t end there because, unfortunately, his buddy standing in the doorway was recording the whole thing on his mobile.

  Alexis grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the door.

  “We have to get out of here. This is not going to help your reputation.”

  “My reputation? That asshole deserves far worse.”

  My heart hammered in my chest, and this time it had nothing to do with the thick flesh between my legs. It was rage. Pure and simple. Old as mankind and always in vogue.

  I wanted to hurt that motherfucker.

  I stomped on his camera as I passed his inert form. It wasn’t the sporting thing to do, but I wasn’t feeling particularly fair just then.

  His idiot friend with the phone cleared out of the doorway as we swept through.

  My blood boiled. Alex dragged me away before I did anything else that would’ve resulted in an expensive lawsuit.

  I wished she hadn’t because I had a lot of money to burn.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Alexis

  Maybe I was a small-town girl, but when a boy asked me to go back to his place after our first date, I never said yes. When Leo asked me back to his place afte
r we left the club, the smarter thing would’ve been to stick to that rule.

  But he was furious at what happened. The kind of anger that made you do stupid things. Things that could get you arrested and screw up your life for good. So I felt obligated to stay with him, at least until he calmed down.

  It was my career we were talking about too, after all.

  So I broke my own rule and said yes.

  Seeing Robert get knocked out would’ve been enough surprises for one night, but arriving at Leo’s made it feel like small potatoes.

  He lived in a penthouse suite at the top of the W Hotel. I wasn’t an architectural nerd, but the massive sail-shaped skyscraper of polished glass was amazing. Walking into his expansive, top-floor suite was no less so.

  All modern furniture with smooth curves and glass. White. Splashes of bright color accented how monochromatic everything else was. A bright red throw pillow set off the immaculately white leather sectional sofa. A bright green abstract painting broke an otherwise featureless expanse of white wall that ended in a wall of glass with an absolutely ridiculous view of the ocean below.

  He stormed inside, tore off his suit coat, and threw it on the floor. His hands were balled up and his shoulders hunched tight. He pounded the back of a chair. A white chair with gleaming chrome accents.

  “I should’ve choked the air out of his lungs.” He smashed his fists down again. “Beat him until his eyes popped out.”

  He whirled around to face me. His eyes were wild.

  “No one talks about you like that! Not if they don’t want a royal ass-whooping!”

  I knew I shouldn’t have liked it, but I did. No one had ever fought for me before. And to be honest, I’d wanted to knock Robert for a loop ever since our fake wedding day.

  Leo’s body pulsed animosity. Primal aggression. Even under the button up shirt, the dangerous power of his coiled muscles was apparent.

  And totally magnetic.

  “Don’t waste another thought on him,” I said. “He’s nothing.”

  “How do you know him?”

  “I knew him in another life.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”

  I had no desire to dig up old bones, especially when I was terrified there might still be meat on them. But Leo’s look demanded an answer.

  “He was my fiancé, until our wedding day.”

  For once, Leo looked like the uncomfortable one.

  “Are you married to him?”

  My stomach turned, a wave of nausea washed over me. “God no! He’s a faithless coward.”

  Leo waited. He clearly wanted more.

  “We were engaged to be married. I had our whole future planned out. It was going to be perfect.”

  “So why are you on a date with me tonight?”

  “A fake date, remember?” I said. “Because on our wedding day, I walked into a bathroom and saw Robert having sex with one of my bridesmaids.”

  An old ache, one buried so deep in my heart I thought it was gone, bubbled up. Tears moistened my eyes.

  Oh no. Not now. Not for that jerk. I’d cried for him ten times more than he deserved. He didn’t deserve another thought. But I couldn’t help it. It was like a dammed-up river broke loose. Tears splashed down my cheeks. My breath came in wracked sobs.

  Leo’s strong arms encircled me before I realized he’d even moved. I looked up into his face and through the warped blur of tears, I saw his anger bleed away.

  Touching concern was all that remained.

  “What an idiot. He was the luckiest guy in the world, and he threw it away.”

  I melted into his embrace. I knew I shouldn’t have. I knew I wouldn’t have in any other situation. But I needed the comfort.

  And he felt so good. So safe.

  So right.

  I let the grief flood out, and all that was left behind were the soaking remnants of my memories on his shirt. After all the pain seeped out, I gathered myself and blinked away the last of the tears.

  He kissed my lips softer than a gentle breeze. His touch grounded me, brought me back to the present. I breathed in his masculine scent. His air entered my lungs and radiated shivers to my toes.

  I felt cleansed. Freer than before. Lighter.

  This wasn’t the fake date I expected.

  “Well, now you know my worst memory.”

  He nodded. “You want me to beat him up again?”

  A small laugh escaped my lips.

  “You knocked him out cold and destroyed his camera. That was a good start.”

  “As long as we both know it was just a start,” he said with a grin.

  “So, uh, now the intimacy is all uneven,” I said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Can’t you feel it? I’ve poured my heart out and all you’ve done is make eyes at my butt all night.”

  “To be fair, I’ve made a lot of eyes at your breasts, too.”

  “Very funny. I’m serious. You have to tell me your worst memory to balance the scale.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t worry about the past.”

  “Why? Nothing bad happened?”

  He shook his head. “Plenty bad happened. But I can’t change any of it. So why bother giving it any of my mental space?”

  “I guess that’s great if it can work that way for you.”

  “I make it work, mostly.”

  “That sounds like a loaded and totally unsatisfying answer.”

  “It was. Tell you what. I’ll tell you something I never volunteer to my dates.”

  “Are you purposefully reminding of your past conquests?”

  “Not at all,” he said. “I’m trying to prove to you how special you are to me.”

  “That sounds better. You could’ve just said that. So, what is it? What’s the thing you never share?”

  He screwed his lips to the side and exhaled deeply.

  “I’m adopted. I have two brothers. We were all adopted because our parents wanted children and weren’t able to have them.”

  I recalled reading somewhere that he grew up with his grandparents in Italy somewhere. I didn’t know if I was prying or being too pushy, but looking up into his eyes made me want to know more.

  “You were raised by your grandparents, weren’t you?”

  He nodded and pursed his lips. The ache in his eyes made me regret the intrusion.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  He sniffed and it sounded a little wet.

  “No, it’s fine. I want you to know. It’s part of who I am today.”

  “Okay.”

  “My mother was taken by lung cancer when I was four. Losing her broke my father. He fell apart after she left. End up overdosing on heroin four years later.

  “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” I said as I squeezed my arms around his broad back.

  “It was hard. Unbelievably hard. None of us would’ve pulled through without Nonna and Nonno. They somehow managed to wrangle three troubled boys and turn them into reasonably productive members of society.”

  “I’d say they did more than that with you.”

  He looked at me with heart-breaking tenderness.

  “Thank you. I’m not perfect. Far from it. But being with you makes me wants to try harder than ever.”

  “Thank you for letting me in,” I said.

  He sniffed again and looked out the window at the black ocean beyond.

  “That and other reasons are why I try not to dwell on the past. I have some good memories, but the awful ones seem to have more power.”

  His vulnerability made him so much more real.

  So much more sexy.

  “You’re pretty amazing, Leo,” I said as I snuggled into his chest.

  “I feel that way when I’m with you.”

  “Oh, come on,” I said. “You’re The Lion of Spain. The best soccer player in the world.”

  “Yeah, but for how long?”

  The brittle edge to his voice startled me.
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  “What do you mean?”

  He forced a laugh, “I’m about to unbalance the scales again.”

  “You can tell me anything,” I said.

  He considered quietly and, just when I thought he’d decided to pass, he opened up with something I never expected to hear.

  “I’m afraid of not being the best. I’m afraid of the time when my body can’t deliver what I require of it.”

  His candor shocked me. Here was this hunk of a man, in the prime of his life, at the top of the most popular sport in the world, and his biggest fear was when that would pass.

  It made sense, actually.

  Of anyone playing the beautiful game, he had the furthest to fall. He had the biggest expectations on his shoulders to never let that happen.

  And yet, it would.

  All athletes fell on hard times at some point. Even the fleeting few that soared at the top without a dip would inevitably fall to the the simplest of opponents.

  Time.

  Time eventually won. It made the young into the old, the strong into the weak.

  But because it was inevitable, there was no sense fearing it. No point in worrying over it.

  Easier said than done, especially for someone like him.

  We held each other quietly. A perfect fit of hard lines and soft curves. We swayed in each other’s arms, lost in the comfort of the shared warmth.

  “Can I show you something?” he asked.

  “Does it involve your pants coming off?”

  “Should it?”

  “No. This is our first fake date and I’m not that kind of girl.”

  “Then it doesn’t.”

  “Can I trust you?” I asked.

  “No, but you can trust yourself.”

  I considered what that might mean. I wanted to trust myself, but I’d never felt less in control of my feelings.

  “Alright, I’m yours,” I said.

  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  Before he made a move based on a misunderstanding, I clarified. “I mean, yes, you can show me.”

  His face brightened. The shadow of aching pasts and fearful futures washed away.

  I followed him out onto the balcony and got a little dizzy seeing the crashing waves so far below. I expected it to be windy, but the protected space kept it calm.