Balls: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (A Cruz Boys Novel Book 1) (11 page)

I had to.

My balls were an impending emergency room visit.

It was like if you put a giant cork on Old Faithful. Well, that thing was gonna blow one way or another. There was too much pressure building up. Same with me.

Still, getting relief from jerking off—compared to getting relief from plowing into Alex—were two entirely different things. The first let off a little steam, just enough to avoid a catastrophic accident. The second would’ve been the deep orgasmic connection that I needed.

How could she not understand that? How could she choose her damn job over me?

A big, black, dark cloud had been hanging over my head all morning.

Josh smacked me in the groin.

“Ouch, bro,” I said as I covered up to avoid another blow.

“What’re you so gloomy about? You said she was super-hot, right? You went on a date. You totally scored, man.”

A tangle of brown hair flopped down over his face as he practically jumped around explaining it.

“You need a haircut, Sport,” I said.
 

“Don’t go there,” he said. “The ladies like my locks!”

“You’re eight. What ladies?”

He grinned and the freckles over the bridge of his nose crinkled up.

“You think I’m telling you?” he asked. “No way! I’m keeping ‘em all to myself.”

I rolled my eyes, and shifted my package as it twinged uncomfortably.

Did I mention my balls hurt?

And going for our weekly tour down Las Ramblas Avenue with Josh wasn’t doing them any favors. They needed an ice bath, not miles of walking.

There was no chance I was going to cancel though. I hadn’t missed a walk in the two years since I’d met Josh at the Bright Hope children’s home. There was no chance I was going to break this kid’s heart.
 

Long ago, I’d gone through his situation exactly, but I was fortunate enough to be taken in by my mother and father. Their acceptance and love made all the difference. It even made the torture that came a few years later worth it.

Josh had no real family. The other kids at the orphanage maybe. But not a real family.
 

I would’ve changed that in a heartbeat, and had tried to endless frustration, but the custody courts in Barcelona deemed me an unfit potential parent.

Fuckers.

Sure, they were probably right. But Josh deserved a home and I could offer that, flaws and all.

Someday.

Until then, we had our weekly outings together. I sometimes got to sneak in an additional visit, but my schedule didn’t often allow it.

“What’re you thinking about? You’re making this big-time wussy face.”

I cuffed his head. “Do you want to get a beat down?”

“Pssshhhh. You? I’d wipe the floor with that pussycat tattoo on your chest.” He raised his fists and danced around like a boxer had a baby with jumping beans.

I grabbed him and threw him around my neck. Ten or so quick spins later and the world tilted dangerously off-kilter. I dropped him on his feet and he crashed into me for support. We held on to each other until the street stopped spinning.

“I think I’m gonna vomit,” I said.

“Cool! Let’s do it again!”
 

I laughed and shook my head. “Give me a few minutes.”

We kept walking and slowly our steps evened out.

Las Ramblas was abuzz with artists’ stands, small cafes, street performers, and an endless stream of tourists. I nodded as the occasional fan waved.

“Well,” Josh said, “Alex sounds hot.”

“She is.”

“Maybe I’ll toss my hat in the ring. Doesn’t sound like you have her tied down.”

“Not yet,” I said with a wicked grin. “But I intend to do just that.”

Josh’s brow furrowed together. “Did you just say something totally kid-inappropriate, again?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.”

I hugged my arm around him and half-dragged him down the street. The smell of churros hung heavy in the air. If I wasn’t at the start of a World Cup campaign, I’d tear through a few of those.

Josh must’ve smelled them too.

“Can we get a churro?”

“Sure, you pick,” I said.

There was always a churros vendor a stone’s throw away on Las Ramblas.

He pointed to the closest one. “That one’s my favorite.”

“You said a different one was your favorite last week. And the same again the week before that.”

“Yeah?”

“So, are they all your favorite?”

“Exactly,” he said as if he couldn’t understand my confusion.

We continued walking while he chomped on the sugar-encrusted stick of fried dough. We joked around and did our best to push each other’s buttons as we wound through the maze of streets that comprised the Gothic Quarter. We made it back to Bright Hope and my favorite grumpy old goat was out front, sweeping the sidewalk.

I pointed to a non-existent pile, “You’re going blind, Bones. You missed a spot here.”

He shook the broom at me.
 

“I don’t need eyes to see Josh here ate a churro,” he glanced at his watch, “not fifteen minutes before lunch is served.”

Josh’s smile faded and he looked at the ground.

Bones elbowed him in the side. “I expect you’ll bring me one back next time because I prefer dessert before lunch, too.”

He winked at Josh and the resilient kid brightened up like a spotlight.

The world had no right to expect joy from him, and yet he was always ready to give it. My heart broke and filled with love every time I saw him.

“Better wipe that off so the director doesn’t get his britches in a bunch,” he said to Josh.

Josh slapped at his face and shirt to get rid of the evidence.

“Speaking of the director,” I said, “I have to head inside and see him for a few minutes.”

I turned to Josh and gathered him up in a big hug. He resisted only a little. A little more than he did a year ago. He was growing up, and I was missing so much with the courts keeping me at a distance.

Fuckers.

I dropped him back to his feet.

“Hey Bones, what kind of operation are you running here? This kid needs a haircut before he ends up looking like Chewbacca.”

Josh roared in his best imitation of his favorite Star Wars character.

Me? I was more a Han Solo fan.

“See you next week?” I said to him.

“If you’re lucky,” he said with a grin that reminded me of myself.

“I get to hang out with you. That makes me pretty lucky.”

He grimaced. “Dude. Don’t get all mushy on me!”

Bones laughed. I grabbed the broom from his hands and pushed it into Josh’s.
 

“Help out this old geezer,” I said. “I’m surprised he hasn’t fallen over dead already.”

Bones waved me off. “I’m sixty years young.” He pumped his non-existent biceps. “You wish you looked this good.”

“I wish for a lot of things,” I said as I turned to Josh. “See you next week, Sport.”

“Not if I see you first!” he said.

I grinned and headed inside.

* * *

I didn’t like walking inside the children’s home. As homey and cheery as they’d made it, I couldn’t see it with fresh eyes. Memories stained every step.

Dammit.

I swore a long time ago to bury that shit so deep it melted into the earth’s core. It had cursed me for too long. The man I was today was not the boy I was all those years ago.

So then why was it so hard to keep the dirt packed down on top of it?

The director brightened as he saw me in the hallway. Of course, he did. Dollar donations usually did that. The bigger, the brighter.

He extended his hand way too soon, when we were still at least twenty feet apart.

“Mr. Cruz, it’s so nice to see you.”

I shook his hand. I generally had a healthy disdain for anyone from the management class, but this guy was all right, even if he was a little too eager.

“How’s it going around here?”

He pursed his lips together. “It’s never easy, but we make do. Generous donations like yours make it possible.”

He gestured down the hallway towards his office. “Shall we go to my office?”

“Nah, I can’t stay long.”

Being in this place gave me the heebie-jeebies.

“I want to thank you setting that up for the kids the other day,” he said.

“Happy to do it.”

“They’ll be talking about that around here for years.”

“I hope not.”

“Excuse me?”

I shook my head and tried to be nice. “Sorry, I meant I hope they’re not around here for years.”

The director pursed his lips and nodded. “We share that hope.”

I reached into my jean’s back pocket and pulled out a checkbook. I wrote out a check for one million dollars and signed my name. It was an odd feeling writing a one with six zeros after it.

Even with all my wealth, it wasn’t something I ever did outside of this annual visit.

The director’s hand quivered at his side as he waited to receive the guarantee that the doors would stay open for another year. So that they could continue to try to help people like me and my brothers.

The ones whose biological parents had left them behind.

If this place could heal just one person, then every million dollars I gave was completely worth it. If just one child ended up with a mother or father that was there for them because of the zeros on my check, then the world might someday be a better place.

I handed over the rectangle paper and watched as my hand stood rock steady while his fluttered like a leaf in the autumn breeze.

“Thank you, Mr. Cruz. You have no idea how much your donations mean to us.”

“I think I do, which is why I’ll be back every year.”

He held his hands together and looked at the ground.

Oh no. I knew what was coming next.

“Mr. Cruz, I know how you feel about the confidentiality of this arrangement, but the potential media exposure could be huge for this organization.”

I didn’t want to get pissed, especially not when I was trying to do a good thing, but we’d been over this too many times.

“Not a word. You know the deal.”

I needed to get the hell out of there. I loved what they did, but I had too much buried baggage to stand comfortably.

“I absolutely will not dig up my past to justify to some asshole reporter what I do with my money.”

A voice from behind startled the crap out of me.

“Are you saying all reporters are assholes, or did you have a particular one in mind?”

I whirled around and nearly had a heart attack. Alex Young, my favorite rising sportscaster star, stood with her hands on her hips and her legs spread wide.

Not wide enough.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

She raised her eyebrows and I could see that every millimeter they inched up reflected a growing anger.

I walked over and tried to take her hand, but she locked it to her hip.

“I’m sorry, Alex. I didn’t mean it that way. You surprised me.”

“Well, finding you here was a bit of a shock to me, too.”

“Yeah, exactly how did you know I’d be here?”

She let me take her hand. “I’m a reporter. I know stuff.”

“That’s not a good answer.”

She shrugged her shoulders and smiled. “It’s the one you’re going to get.”

I felt my temperature rise, and it wasn’t out of anger. It was from proximity. Her smell enveloped me. Her soft cocoa skin called to me. The clouds parted when she was near.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said.

I tried to pull her back toward the elevator and she didn’t budge. This damn girl always had to have it her way.

“Leo, talk to me. Why are you here?”

I gave the director a hard stare and the guy was smart enough to know when he needed to make himself scarce.

“Thank you again, Mr. Cruz. We are so grateful for your continued support.”

I exhaled loudly.

Couldn’t he keep his mouth shut?

He turned on his heel and receded down the hallway towards his office.

I looked anywhere and everywhere but Alex’s eyes. I knew they’d be like a truth serum, and I didn’t want to lay out any more of my messed-up past.

She grabbed my other hand and pulled me close. Her full breasts pressed into my chest. My balls tingled. The familiar rush of blood into my cock signaled its appreciation.

She looked up at me with the most loving eyes a woman had ever cast on a man.

“Talk to me, Leo. I’m here for you.”

I swallowed hard and felt the truth bubble up. This woman could get anything she wanted out of me. I had no idea why. I didn’t care.

“My adopted parents, Celeste and Antonio, found me here. They gave me what I needed most.”

“What was that?”

“Family.”

I looked around. “It wasn’t like this back then.”

My breath choked in my throat. Hot rage boiled in my chest. I was not going to lose it about ancient history. Not again.

She hugged me tight and whispered into my chest, “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m lucky they found me,” I said. “It’s just hard to be here.”

A toxic brew of emotions spilled out of my soul. One that had been fermenting for untold years. I wrapped my arms around her and would’ve pulled her into my body if I could’ve. Her nearness was the only thing keeping me together.

We stood like that for a while. A quiet cocoon of shared misery and comfort.

She looked up and her moist eyes sparkled like amber gemstones.

“I understand,” she said. “No child deserves to bear that heavy a burden.”

“The ones that do don’t do it by choice,” I said.

“But you made a choice now. You came here to help other kids get lucky like you did. Your parents would be proud.”

“I wish I could do more,” I said. “There’s one boy in particular. Josh is his name. I’ve known him for three years. I tried to adopt him six months ago.”

Alex watched me, letting me tell the story at my own pace. “What happened?”
 

“The courts rejected me. Said I wasn’t a suitable adoptive parent. Assholes think they know what Josh needs.”

“That’s terrible,” she said. “Didn’t they understand what you were trying to do? Especially being adopted yourself.”

I shook my head. “You’d think that, but no. They said I was incapable of offering a stable, nurturing home for him. Sons of bitches. But I won’t give up on him. Never.”