Bedding the Bad Boy (Bad Boys of Football Book 1) (12 page)

Isla sighed. “No. This isn’t a business deal anymore, is it? Do you think it’s still an arrangement? I’m confused. What are we doing?”

She was right. Things between us had gone way beyond a business deal. I knew it a long time ago. If I was being honest; the business deal ended a long time ago – probably a few days after it all began. I couldn’t help myself. She was everything I ever dreamed of and more. She was different.

“This isn’t business; it’s pure pleasure, baby,” I said, squeezing her hand back. I took a deep breath. I was about to do the scariest thing I’d ever do in my life, but it felt so right. “Marry me. Be my wife. Have my babies.”

Just then, the doctor walked in. “Congratulations, Miss Johnson, your pregnancy test came back positive.”

I squeezed Isla’s hand again. This was real. She was real. She and I were going to have a family. “Actually, doc, do you mind if we have a minute? I want to do all sorts of nasty stuff with my fiancée and we don’t need an audience.”

The doctor’s cheeks flushed. “I’ll give you a few minutes.”

Isla giggled. “You are so wrong! I can’t believe you said that.”

I spent the next few minutes repeating my questions in between hugging and kissing Isla. I hadn’t been this happy in a long time. I never wanted the moment to end.

“I’m going to need a new ring. A real ring,” Isla said, removing the ring she had on her finger. “This one was part of our business deal. I need one for the real deal. That is, if you were being serious with me. You were being serious, weren’t you?”

The panicked look on her face made me laugh. “I play a lot of things, but playing with the rest of my life isn’t one of those things. Of course, I was for real. What kind of animal do you think I am?”

She grabbed the collar of my shirt, pulling me to her to plant a firm kiss on my lips. “You’re my animal. You’ll be whatever kind I need you to be.” She was right.
Damn right!

The doctor admitted her so they could continue to give her fluids. I sent Frank home to grab some of her things and a change of clothes for me. I wasn’t going anywhere. No chance. No way. She was carrying my baby and no one was going to separate us.

After she was settled into her private room, I hated to ask, but I did still have a problem hanging over my head. “We should hold a press conference; don’t you think?”

“What? Why?” she asked.

“We need to get ahead of the story. The announcement has to come from us,” I explained.

“
I
raised you better than this!” My mother cleared her throat. “You took off halfway across the country for what? To get knocked up? Girl, have you lost your mind?”

No matter how old I got, anytime my mother scolded me, I felt like a little girl, who had been caught sneaking in past her curfew. “Mom, this isn’t what you think. I’m not dumb. Beck is different. He and I are together. I love him.”

“You love him? Oh, well excuse me. That changes everything,” she said, sarcasm laced in her voice.

“Mom, for real, he’s a great guy and I love him,” I said again.

“But a baby? Why would you do that now? What about your career? What about your…” she started.

“My what? My career is fine. What else do I need? Hey, this might not be the best time, but Beck wants to buy you a ticket so you can come down for the weekend. He wants to meet you.” I tried to make it sound like it was the best idea in the world, but deep down, I knew what her reaction would be.

“Now, I know you’ve been drinking the Kool-Aid. The rich, white man Kool-Aid, which is something different altogether. It has different ingredients. Different texture, if you know what I mean,” my mother hummed.

“Mama, what are you saying; I can’t date him because he’s white? Is that what I heard? I’m confused because the woman who raised me, raised me to love everyone -- no matter the color of their skin,” I reminded her of her own words, “She would never say anything remotely racist.” I’d heard the same mantra over and over again when I was growing up. My mother made sure I understood never to let anyone make me feel like I was less than anyone else. We were equal, no matter where we came from.

“What I’m saying is, this is different. Whether you want to admit it or not, you will forever be the black woman, he knocked up. No one is ever going to speak about you like you’re something special. They won’t care about your degrees or the hard work you put in to make something of yourself. You’ll always be the black girl who got knocked up by the rich football player -- the rich white football player.”

Her words stung. I didn’t know what to say.

“Sweetheart, I love you more than sunshine and rain. All I’m saying is, this situation isn’t going to be easy. You’re going to have to fight to prove yourself. I wish you would have thought about it before you went and laid down with this man. You could have, at least, used some kind of protection. Why didn’t you? Was he so hot, you couldn’t stop and think about protecting yourself? Who knows how many women he’s been with! Did it even occur to you? What if he gave you something?” My mother had a knack for making me feel like a fool. She was right. I hadn’t considered how many women he’d been with. I knew it was a lot, but I never really thought about catching something from him.

I sighed, emotion lodging in my throat. “Mama, I messed up.”

She sighed. “You sure did, but this ain’t the end. Do what you do best. First, get tested, then, spin this story so you come off looking good. Lord knows he needs his image cleaned up. You can swoop right on in there and clean it up. Be the woman I raised. Make him look good without compromising yourself any more than you already have.”

“What am I going to do?” I cried.

She had the answer. “You’re going to wait for me to arrive and make things better. I want to have a long talk with this man and tell him what’s what. He needs to get his head right if he thinks he’s going to be with my baby. And, now he’s got a child to think about? Oh, hell no, he’s not going to act a fool no more.”

I had to laugh. I knew how my mother operated. Beck was in for a world of trouble. She was going to do things to him, make him feel things, no man, woman or child would ever make him feel. And, I was going to have a good time watching it happen. My mother meant business. She never pulled any punches. Now, I had to prepare him.

“I love you, mama,” I said, sniffling.

“I love you too, child. I love you more. Now, hang up this phone, call a doctor and get yourself tested. Have the white boy get himself tested and make sure you actually see the test results. Don’t believe a word he says because he’s a man and they lie. Oh, they lie! Start thinking about what kind of image you want out there in the world. This man has a court case pending, women everywhere and a bad attitude. Straighten him out before he takes you and your child -- my grandchild -- down with you,” she warned me.

“Okay. Got it,” I said.

“You better, because there’s more than you now. This is about an innocent child who deserves a good life. No drama. No monkey business. Be the queen you are. Get this right,” she said.

“I will. I promise.”

After we said our goodbyes, I allowed myself a good cry. I needed it more than I knew. My mother had said some powerful things and I needed to heed her warnings. I loved Beck. At least, I thought I did, but the fact of the matter was, he was troubled. I didn’t want that in my life. He’d have to do better, be better. With the court case and whatever sick game someone was playing with him, there was a lot hanging over our heads. A baby added more complications, but in a funny way, made me so happy at the same time.

My phone rang, interrupting my thoughts. I assumed my mother had forgotten something.

“Open the door,” Beck said.

“Huh? What door? Where are you?” I asked, jumping up from my seat.

He answered, “I’m standing outside. Open the door, Isla.”

I ran to the door, wiping my tear-stained face.

Beck was standing on the other side of the door, next to Frank. Both were holding arms full of baby items.

“What in the world?” I asked, moving aside to let them through.

“I got it all. There’s a stroller, a car seat… well, two car seats because I didn’t know which one you’d like, some diapers, blankets, toys… I got everything I could think of. I’m sure I forgot something, but we can always get that later,” Beck spoke with childlike excitement in his voice. I didn’t know whether it was excitement or the emotion of it all, but I cried. Tears streamed down my face. “Why are you crying?”

I couldn’t speak. I cried harder.

Frank put his pile of items down: more blankets, baby clothes, a tiny football and child-size team jerseys. “I should go,” he said, embarrassed.

“No, don’t,” I said. “I’m sorry. I think it’s the hormones. I’m a mess. How did you guys get in here?”

Beck spoke to Frank. “Get the stuff out of the trunk. I’ll take care of her.” He smiled at me. “Who would refuse me? I can get in anywhere.”

Frank nodded and left quietly.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Beck asked. “Don’t you like the baby stuff? If not, we can go out and get some things you do like.”

I answered, “My mother wants to speak to you -- in person.”

Beck gulped.

“She’s not playing. I’ll buy her a ticket, but be warned; she’s going to tear into you,” I warned him. “My mother has made stronger men cry.”

He smiled slyly. “Well, then, we better make good use of the time we have left before she does something awful to me, like kick me in the jewels.” He cupped his hands over his groin. “Oh, my precious jewels. I can’t live without them and neither can you.”

Beck always had a way of making me laugh, even if it was with ridiculous drivel. “Stop it. I’m not the one I’m worried about.”

“Oh? That sounds promising,” Beck said.

“How many other women are there in your life?” I asked, bracing myself for his answer.

“Are you asking me how many women I’ve been with? Really? That’s where you want to go? You want to have this conversation?” Beck’s mood shifted. “Isla, what do you want from me? Why can’t you be happy?”

I grabbed his hand, wishing I’d not started this conversation and ruined this moment. “Forget it. Let’s do something fun.” I tried to persuade him.

Frank returned, carrying more baby items, including stuffed animals, Onesies, and a tiny box. He handed the small box to Beck. “I thought you’d want this before I leave.”

Beck took the box and shoved it into his pocket. “Another one of my brilliant ideas.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Like I said, the hormones are screwing with me. The phone call with my mother didn’t help things. She said some things that got me thinking.”

“Uh-oh; that’s what this is all about. Your mother hates me and she wants you to leave me. I get it,” Beck said.

“No, that’s not it. She worries,” I tried to explain, but I could tell by his stance he didn’t believe me. I’d have to learn to pace myself with him. He was more fragile than I thought. That being said, it didn’t mean I was going to let him walk all over me. I needed to learn when to say things and when to take a moment to think before saying them.

“Isla, whatever it is you’re thinking, is wrong. I’ve been with a lot of women, but I’m no idiot. I wore protection with most of them,” he said.

I didn’t want to go there, but it had to be asked. “What about me and the one with the baby boy?”

He cringed.

“I mean, you thought… I mean…”

“No, you’re right. I was dumb. I don’t know what I was thinking with her. It happened, but after that, I never let my dick do my thinking. I’d bang them, but never without taking care of my 9-inch man,” Beck said.

“Nine-inch man? What are you, like twelve-years-old?” I shook my head at him.

Frank had slipped out of my apartment unnoticed.

Beck pulled me in for an embrace. “You’re all there is from now on; I swear. I’m done with all those other whores.”

And, the moment was gone.

“Excuse me! Did you call me a whore? Well, what exactly are you?” I challenged him.

He shrugged. “A manwhore, of course.”

I pulled myself from his embrace and whispered, “I’m having a manwhore’s baby.”

“And, you’re going to be Mrs. Mahwhore,” he reminded me.

“I hate you,” I teased.

“You love me, but I know something you love a whole lot more,” Beck said, moving toward me again. “Why don’t you take those pants off and I’ll remind you?” He licked his lips as he reached for my waistband, slipping two fingers in it. “Let me lick you.”

How could I deny myself the pleasure?
“Your wish is my command -- this time,” I said, helping him slide my pants down over my hips.

He inhaled quickly as he took in my fire engine red lace panties. “Damn, those are fucking sexy!”

I took the opportunity to remove my blouse, exposing the matching red, lace bra. Underneath it, my breasts were tender -- one of the many new results of my pregnancy.

With a sweet, tender touch, Beck traced his fingers around my breasts, taking his time -- a strong contrast to the way he normally approached them. After a few moments of caressing them, he moved his head closer to me, kissing me softly on the shoulder, then, my neck, then, my tender mounds of flesh. Slow, methodical, gentle and loving. I was surprised by his tenderness.

“You are so beautiful! So fucking beautiful,” he whispered.

I wasn’t at all offended by his vernacular. There was something so sincere about it. It felt like he meant what he said.

“You’re having my baby,” he whispered.

I reached for his hair, gently stroking it with my hands. “Yes, I’m having your baby. We’re having a baby.”

He kissed my stomach. “My baby,” he whispered, almost as if he was talking to himself. Like I wasn’t even there.

As if he had a sudden moment of clarity, he lifted himself slightly over me and focused on my belly. He moved down, kissing my hips, one side at a time. He kissed my thighs and moved back up, taking me into his mouth, kissing me gently, as if he was afraid I might break. I shifted my hips, lifting myself to him, wanting him to take me in his mouth.

He slipped his tongue into my wet folds, moving slowly, gently.

My back arched my hips forward, closer to his face. He moved his tongue faster, in and out, over my inner folds, reaching places I never knew he could.

I moaned at the sensation. He moaned into me, keeping his tongue moving inside me from side to side, top to bottom, making my body want to explode. Together, we began to move, moaning and groaning, fiercely trying to hold onto the moment, the feeling, the pleasure.

“I love you,” he whispered into me.

“I love you more,” I whispered back. “I love you more.”

He smoothed his hands over my body, feeling my arousal through my skin, my pores, my heart. I grabbed his strong shoulders when the sensations became too much to bear. I pulled, tugged, dug my nails into them, screaming his name as my juices spilled out of me and into his waiting mouth. He stayed there until my body calmed, resting his head below my belly. “You’re having my baby,” he whispered again, kissing my stomach.

We fell asleep in each other’s arms. He felt like home. Something had changed, shifted. We were more comfortable. Relaxed. But in the back of my mind, I worried it would all go away. I worried he’d get scared and run from me -- from our child.

For the time being, we were happy. Ready to start a family and ready to pretend like everything was okay. In my bed, we were a couple in love. In the media, we would be a spectacle, fodder for the tabloids, and a target for whoever held a grudge against him.