Free Shot Caller (A Bad Boy's Baby Novel) by Colleen Masters

myself.
    “I…I
need to go. I need to think,” I
tell him, running my fingers through my hair as I turn to go.
    “What’s
there to think about?” he
says, striding after me. “You want me. I want you. Why shouldn’t we both get
what we want?”
    “You
don’t understand, Mad,” I
tell him, “Some of us actually have to face consequences for our actions.”
    “I
know all about consequences,” he
says, taking my hand firmly in his, “But I’d rather regret something I’ve done,
instead of something I was too afraid to do.”
    “I…I
just…” I
stammer, heart racing as he catches my face in his hands.
    “I’m
going to kiss you now, Poppy,” he
says, brushing his thumbs against my cheekbones. “OK?”
    “…Yeah.
I think you’d better,” I
breathe.
    He
brings his mouth swiftly to mine, pressing his lips against my own. Our mouths
move insatiably as we taste each other again after all this time. His strong
tongue sweeps into my mouth as he catches me up in his arms. His full lips
press against mine, at once full and impossibly soft. I press my body flush
against his, marveling at the enormity of him, the precise intensity of his
kiss. He’s not only bigger and stronger, now. He’s also better . More
experienced. If he knew how to rock me back when he was only nineteen, what
incredible things could he do to me now? I don’t know if I can wait to find
out.
    Before
my imagination has a chance to go wild, I hear heavy footsteps approaching
swiftly along the hall, heading straight for this exam room door. Maddox and I
pull away from each other by just an inch, listening as the voices of our
manager and head trainer come closer. The instant before the door swings open,
we leap away from each other—I to one side of the room and Mad to the other,
where he thankfully has time to sit down and hide his raging erection before
our bosses barrel inside.
    “Well?” Barry says, “What’s the
story?”
    “He’s
fine, apart from the head wound,” I say, busying myself with some charts on
the counter. Anything not to look my boss in the eye.
    “You
have anything to say for yourself, Walcott?” Chris Glover says to Mad, his jaw pulsing
with ire.
    “Not
really, mate,” Maddox
shrugs, looking composed as hell. How does he do that? I feel like I’m going to
dissolve into a puddle in about two minutes.
    “How
about, ‘I’ll quit being a showoff so we can all do our jobs and win some
games’?” Glover
suggests, “That was a routine drill we were running out there. Barlow called
the header for himself. You need to learn to leave well enough alone.”
    “I
always have been a very persistent man,” Maddox says, “And I have a way of getting
what I want.”
    Something
tells me he’s not talking about soccer anymore. I swallow hard, feeling his
words hit me right in the solar plexus.
    “Well
then, try and figure out how to want a spot on this team for longer than one
game,” Glover
snaps, turning on his heel. “Because you’re pushing my patience, Walcott.
You’re a good player, but you’re not untouchable.”
    No , I think to myself, On the contrary,
he’s very touchable.
    O’Leary
goes out after Glover, and I glance over at Maddox. He stays where he is,
watching me as I collect my things. He’s not going to try and stop me from
leaving now, or rush me into anything. I know that. He doesn’t have to. There’s
only so much longer I’ll be able to keep myself from Maddox Walcott, and he
knows it. All he has to do is wait.
    “See
you soon, Ms. Abrams,” he
says after me as I head for the door. “All of you, I hope,” he adds, softly so only I
can hear.
    “You
are persistent, aren’t you?” I
ask, pausing in the doorway to take one last look at his muscled form before I
go.
    “You
ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” he grins, giving me a
lingering once-over.
    Before
I lose it completely and throw myself into his inked-up arms, I hurry down the
hallway and back into the world as I know it. This is