Read Shot Caller (A Bad Boy's Baby Novel) Online
Authors: Colleen Masters
My
breath catches as Maddox reaches around my body, laying two expert fingers over
my hard, aching clit. A long, low cry rises out of me as he rolls that juicy
button beneath his fingertips, sending his cock driving into me with all his
might. The pressure that’s been mounting inside of me bursts like a ripe fruit,
lavishing me with its thick sweetness. I brace myself against Mad’s perfect
form as he comes deep inside of me. Every inch of me is filled with him. His
come. His seed…
“Holy
shit,”
I
whisper, my entire body trembling as I fall back against Mad’s steady form.
“I
know,”
he
murmurs, kissing every inch of me he can reach, “Holy shit is right.”
If
only he knew the real reason for my wonder: the possibility that our passion
has led to something even more incredible than the way we make each other feel.
Suddenly, the notion of me being pregnant seems…right. Of course two bodies
that ignite each other this way are bound to spark a miracle.
Be careful Poppy,
I warm myself,
curling up against Maddox’s muscled side,
Don’t get those hopes up. In
either direction.
Easier
said than done.
Maddox
Walking
into the training facilities on Monday with Poppy at my side is totally
surreal. After keeping our relationship under wraps for all these weeks, it
feels bonkers to flaunt it out in the open. Not that too many of my teammates
are surprised. They could see the chemistry between Poppy and me from miles
away. Especially Barlow, the center midfielder formerly known as Captain
Ginger. He shoots me and Poppy a knowing glance from the locker room door as we
arrive together. Hopefully, he saves the high fives for later.
“You
ready for this?”
I
ask Poppy, laying a steadying hand on her elbow.
“As
ready as I’ll ever be,”
she
sighs, shoving her hands into the pockets of her boyfriend jeans. She’s paired
her jeans with a silky white tank top and posh-looking blazer, and her smooth
hair is pinned up all posh and shit. But what really gets me today is the
fierce look of determination in her brown eyes. Her mouth is painted red and
ready to tell off any fuckers that try to mess with her.
God,
I love it when she gets all ferocious.
“There
they are,”
Poppy
observes, glancing down the hallway.
I
follow her gaze to find Glover and O’Leary lingering under the florescent
lights, waiting to intercept us. This oughta be good.
“Looks
like someone’s got a case of the Mondays,”
I grin at O’Leary. The chubby old bloke
looks like he’s just taken a shot of vinegar.
“You
must be very proud of yourself,”
O’Leary snarls back, “Going over our heads
to Tucker like that.”
“I
didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”
I shrug, “I assume you’ve both been
brought up to speed about how things are gonna go around here?”
“Let’s
get one thing straight, Walcott,”
says Glover, keeping his voice even,
“Tucker may get the final say in this matter, but the second this little fling
of yours interferes with either of your work, it’s over. I can’t get rid of you
for carrying on with this relationship, but I can sure as hell fire you for not
doing your jobs.”
“That
won’t be a problem,”
Poppy
says coolly, lifting her chin in defiance.
“We’ll
see about that,”
O’Leary
grumbles, brushing past us into his office.
“If
we’re through with this little soap opera for the time being, I’ve got work to
do,”
Glover
says, turning away from us as well. “And it looks like you two have a visitor.”
Before
I can turn around to see who Glover is talking about, I feel a pudgy arm fall
across my shoulders. The ruddy, beaming face of Dale Tucker has appeared by my
side. Our team’s owner grins like a kid on Christmas morning as he hugs me and
Poppy to his padded sides.
“If
it isn’t my two new favorite people on the planet!”
Tucker crows, nearly
vibrating with excitement.
“Hello,
Mr. Tucker,”
Poppy
says quizzically, shooting me a look that says,
What the fuck is going on,
here?
“Please,
call me Dale,”
our
owner insists, as I duck out from his sweaty embrace. “We’re all friends here.”
Not exactly,
I think to myself,
but
whatever keeps Glover and O’Leary off my back while I get Poppy on hers.
“I
am so glad you trusted me enough to come to me with this, Maddox,”
Tucker goes on, laying a
hand over his heart. “There’s nothing more precious in the world than love!”
Poppy
and I trade an alarmed glance.
“That’s
not really—”
she
sputters.
“We’re
not—”
I
cut in.
“Oh,
now. Don’t go getting all bashful on me!”
Tucker chuckles, “That won’t do for the
cameras, will it?”
“Cameras?”
I ask him. “What are you
talking about?”
“I’m
talking about your press conference, of course!”
Tucker exclaims, clapping his fleshy
hands together. “This kind of announcement deserves the full attention of the
press.”
I
feel my jaw tighten in rage as Dale Tucker blinks innocently up at me. The
color drains entirely from Poppy’s face as she stands rooted in place like a
startled deer.
“I
never agreed to a press conference,”
I say slowly, drawing myself up to my full
height, “I told you that you could tell the press about us, and that we’d play
along.”
“Well,
exactly!”
Tucker
replies, “What better way to tell the press about you two than hosting a press
conference devoted entirely to your exciting new relationship? You’re not
reconsidering whether you’re comfortable playing along here, are you? Because
that would be very…
disappointing.”
God
fucking dammit. Tucker has us twisted around his fat little finger, and he
knows it. I should have known not to give him an inch. Now he’s going to
stretch this story of Poppy and me out for miles to come.
“There’s
not really any…formal relationship to discuss,”
Poppy finally manages to tell Tucker.
“So I don’t know what good a press conference would be.”
“Wait
a minute,”
Tucker
says, looking at me with wide eyes, “I thought you said you two were together?”
“We
are,”
I
shrug noncommittally, “But we’re just…seeing each other. We’re not fucking
engaged or anything.”
“Not
yet,”
Tucker
sighs, “But one can always hope.”
What
the bloody hell is going on? How did I go from being fuck buddies with this woman
to halfway-married to her in five minutes flat? This whole thing is spinning
entirely out of control.
“We
don’t have to get so specific about things when we talk to the press,”
Tucker chuckles, laying a
hand on each of our shoulders. “We’ll just say you’re…dating. How’s that?”
Poppy
swings her gaze my way, at a loss for words. It occurs to me, in that moment,
that the two of us haven’t actually ever been on a proper date before. We’ve
been shagging like rabbits for the last month or so, sure, but as for actual
dates? Not a one.
“I
think we can live with dating,”
Poppy
tells Tucker, “Dating. Sure. Let’s go with that.”
“Super,”
the owner grins, looking
back and forth between us fondly. “We’ll have everything set up for the press
conference in a couple of hours. If you want to head up to hair and makeup,
they’re all ready for you!”
And
with that, Tucker all but skips away down the hall, leaving me and Poppy
staring after him in startled silence.
“Hair
and makeup?!”
she
hisses, swinging her eyes my way, “What the
fuck
, Mad?!”
“I
didn’t know he was going to lose his bloody marbles over this,”
I reply, shoving a hand
through my hair, “I just wanted to give us some protection against Glover and
O’Leary.”
“By
letting Tucker trot us out to the press like a couple of show ponies?”
she shoots back, grabbing
my wrist and all but dragging me into her office. She’s small, but that grip of
hers is surprisingly strong.
“You
were all for this plan when I first told you about it,”
I remind her.
“Yeah,
back when I thought the extent of it would be some gossip columns about us,”
she says, slamming the
door behind me. “I didn’t expect a full-blown PR campaign about the fact that
we’re sleeping together.”
“Neither
did I,”
I
tell her, “But if that’s what it takes to keep our jobs and what we’ve got
going on between us—”
“That’s
easy for you to say,”
she
laughs sarcastically, “You’re a man. People will hear this story and want to
buy you a beer. You don’t understand what this kind of publicity could do for
my career. No one will be able to take me seriously after this.”
“That
can’t be true,”
I
tell her.
“What
the hell would you know it?”
she
shoots back, pacing around her office, “You don’t know what it’s like to be
discriminated against just for being a woman. I have to be ten times as good,
ten times as professional as my male colleagues just to get the same
opportunities. God, what was I thinking jumping back into bed with you?
“You
were thinking that you wanted me,”
I remind her bluntly, laying my hands on
her shoulders to stop her frantic pacing, “That’s not a crime, is it? People
respect it when you go after what you want.”
“People
will respect
you
for that, sure,”
she replies, tears welling up in her eyes,
“But they’ll
ruin
me for it.”
All
at once, that protective instinct flares up inside me once again. The idea of
anyone chatting shit about Poppy for this affair makes my blood boil. I wrap my
arms around her, drawing her to my chest as she tries to hold back her angry
tears.
“I
won’t let anyone ruin you, Poppy,”
I tell her, planting a kiss on the crown
of her head.
“Aren’t
you
just a knight in shining armor?”
she laughs softly, laying her cheek
against my chest.
“More
like a knight in navy in gold, I guess,”
I joke, holding her against me. “But I
mean it now, Poppy. I won’t leave you out in the cold on this. Whatever
happens, we’re in this together. You hear me?”
“I
hear you,”
she
says, gazing up at me with something that looks a lot like gratitude. “I just
hope I can trust you as much as I want to.”
I hope so too,
I think to myself. I
have plenty of practice being a teammate, but exactly none with being someone’s
partner. Hell, I’ve never even gone longer than a few weeks sleeping with one
woman before moving on. I don’t know the first thing about being responsible,
or accountable, or trustworthy. Not with a woman I’m seeing, anyway. I suppose
I’ve been there for Rosie, as best I could. And the guys of The Firm, of
course. But this? This is entirely new territory. Uncharted, to say the least.
Here’s
hoping I don’t get too lost in the weeds.
“What
do you say? Want to head up to hair and makeup?”
Poppy says, smiling as gamely as she
can.
“Fuck
if they’re getting any makeup on my face,”
I grumble, “But sure.”
“You
better deliver some seriously excellent oral for getting us into this,
Walcott,”
she
teases, sliding her hand into my back pocket as we make our way upstairs.
“I
always
deliver excellent oral,”
I remind her, “But I take your point, Ms.
Abrams.”
“None
of that,”
she
whispers, looking around to make sure we’re alone in the hallway, “It’s bad
enough that we’re in the spotlight now. The last thing we need is for everyone
to find out about our little
run-in
when you were still a teenager.”
That
shuts me up right quick. Poppy and I step into the elevator side-by-side, ready
to face the music.
“Here
goes nothing,”
she
whispers, taking my hand in hers.
I
wish I could believe her. But something tells me this whole scheme is going to
amount to a whole lot more than nothing.
Poppy
I
can barely blink my eyelashes are so caked with mascara. I feel like a beauty
pageant contestant as I take my seat beside Maddox at our impromptu press
conference. Looking out at the sea of photographers and reporters, I feel as
though I’ve just stepped into someone else’s body. None of this has anything to
do with the life I’ve built for myself over the years. I’ve been so careful
every step of the way, always keeping to the straight and narrow. But now, all
of a sudden, I find myself taking a walk on the wild side with no one but
Maddox Walcott for company. Well, Maddox Walcott and possibly his unborn child.
But there’s no
way
I can starting think about that right now.
“Hello,
everyone!”
Dale
Tucker crows, leaning in way too close to his microphone, “So nice of you to
join us on this special day.”
Tucker,
Maddox, Glover and I are all seated at a long conference table that’s been set
up beside the soccer pitch. A few dozen media types stare up at us, tape
recorders poised and ready. The press conference is about to begin, and with
it, a whole new chapter of my life. I try like hell to keep my face neutral,
unwilling to betray the nerves and anger rippling just under the surface. I’m
playing a part, now. Giving a good show to save my career from going down in
flames.
No
big deal or anything.
“Let’s
kick things off, shall we?”
Tucker
smiles.
A
flurry of flashbulbs goes off in my face as the conference commences. Every
reporter in the crowd raises their hand at once, vying for Tucker’s attention.
I glance over at Maddox, who’s looking incredibly collected despite the media
circus unfolding around us. But then again, of course he does. He has years of
media training, and the press absolutely loves him. What’s not to love? He’s
delivered more juicy stories in his career than any footballer before him. And
now, I’m one of those sweet bits of gossip. Lucky me.
“Why
don’t we start with…you,”
Tucker
says gesturing to a platinum blonde woman in the front row.
“Tanya
Robbins, from the Atlantic City Scoop,”
the woman says, flashing her bright white
teeth in a somewhat malicious smile, “Mr. Walcott, could you tell us a little
bit about your relationship with Ms. Abrams?”
“Sure
thing,”
Mad
smiles, disarming as ever as he lays his elbows on the conference table next to
me, “Me and Poppy here met on the job, training for the Empire’s opening
season. We’ve been…
dating
for a couple of weeks now.”
“And
why the secrecy up until this point?”
Tanya Robbins presses.
“Workplace
relationships. Always a bit sticky, am I right?”
Mad shrugs, setting off a ripple of
laughter in the crowd, “Guess we just wanted to be certain before we got the
fans all in a tizzy.”
“Certain
of what, Mr. Walcott?”
Robbins
says, nearly drooling over the juicy story.
Maddox
turns to me, his gorgeous face lit up with admiration, “Certain in what we felt
for each other,”
he
says, taking my hand in his, “That we cared for each other.”
I
stare back at him, forcing my lips into a faint smile. Is he being honest right
now, or just playing it up for the cameras? He’s such a good actor that even I
can’t tell what his deal is. And that makes me very,
very
nervous.