The Baller: A Down and Dirty Football Novel - Vi Keeland Page 0,94
wrapped in a fuzzy bathrobe and had my hair up in a ponytail.
He looked at his watch. “You said three.”
“No, I said four.” I took a play from his book. Did he really think I would believe I constantly got the pickup time wrong? He thought he needed to be sly to spend an extra hour in my apartment. But today, I was the one being sly.
I rolled my eyes and stepped aside. “You seriously have an issue with time.”
“I could swear you said three.” That’s because I did.
“Well. You know the drill. Make yourself comfortable. I’m just going to take a quick shower.” I disappeared into the bathroom, and my quick shower turned into a marathon grooming session. I shaved every last hair from the waist down, except for a thin line between my legs. Afterward, I rubbed moisturizer on the entire surface of my body and brushed out my damp hair. Initially, I thought I would traipse into the living room buck naked, and he would figure the rest out. But I decided to do things Brody-style. I wrapped a plush, dry towel around my body and prepared to cross a line there would be no coming back from.
“Change of plans,” I yelled from the bedroom as I primped myself in the full-length mirror. “Would you mind if we did the interview here?”
“Sure. Whatever you want.”
Brody was watching TV, his back to me, when I walked into the room. I took a deep breath, rounded the couch and stood in front of him. He was slouched down but perked up the minute he saw me standing wrapped in a towel.
“Think I can ask you a few questions, Mr. Easton?” I spoke into my hairbrush.
He furrowed his brow but played along.
“How does it feel to be a two-time Super Bowl MVP?”
“It feels pretty damn good. But I’ve been asked that question about a thousand times, Ms. Maddox. Don’t you have any original questions?” The first time he’d asked me that, I wanted to kick his ass. This time, I loved that he remembered our early encounter.
I arched an eyebrow. “I do have an original question, actually.” Nonchalantly, I reached up and tugged at the knot of the towel wrapped around my body. It fell to the floor. “If I told you I loved you more than anything in this world, would you give me another chance?”
Brody stood. His response was serious, and he spoke directly into my eyes. “I’d give you every fucking chance I own to be with you again.”
We collided, closing the distance between us. Brody kissed me long and hard, wrapping his thick arms so tight around me, it was hard to breathe. But nothing had ever felt better. He lifted me up into the air and cradled me against his chest. Before I realized what he was doing, he was carrying me into the bedroom. “I hope that’s the only interview I really have to do. Please tell me we don’t have to go to your office to do another one.”
“The only thing you have to do for the next few days is me.”
He set me down next to the bed and began stripping out of his clothes. He shook his head as his eyes caressed my body. “So you finally admit you love me, but I can’t make love to you yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because I need to fuck you hard and come inside you in a way that makes me feel like an animal right now.”
“I want that, too. God, I want that, too.”
He lifted me, guiding my legs to wrap around his waist, and turned us toward the wall. “We’ll save the bed for making love. But I’m going to take you up against that wall right now.”
He kissed me until my lips bruised, and I gasped for air. The restraint he had been clinging to finally snapped, and the way he stared at me like I was his next meal was the most raw and sexually arousing thing I ever saw in my life. My back securely pinned against the wall, Brody’s hand slid from my ass to my opening, and he dipped two fingers inside. “Jesus, you’re soaked.”
He gripped my hips and thrust inside of me. My eyes fluttered closed; it felt so good to be filled by him, so right.
“Delilah, open your eyes.”
He pumped into me harder as his gaze held mine. “Tell me. Tell me again.”