Baller: A Bad Boy Romance Read Online Free Page B

brunette, but it wasn’t the same color all over. There were some lighter streaks here and there, probably not natural, but that was fine. I liked brunettes. I wasn’t one, so it was something different. Exotic , if you will. From where I was sitting, her eyes looked like they were dark, too. I wondered what color her nipples were, you couldn’t be sure whether they’d be brown or pink with the brunette girls.
     
    She had been looking over at me when she was talking to the coach, him too. They were obviously talking about me. Understandable . Maybe she wanted an interview or something. I could give her one of those. She could get under the hood and find out who the real Dante Rock was, as long as she made the ordeal worth my while.
     
    I wanted to give her a number rating, but I wanted to get closer first. I wanted to see if her skin was nice, if she had good teeth, those things that ruined an otherwise good package when they were there.
     
    “Dante, get ready, you’re going on,” the coach said in my direction.
     
    Showtime .
     
    I stood up and walked up to the line. The hottie with the mic was a couple feet away. She saw me looking at her and looked over herself.
     
    “Big fan?” I asked her. “If you hang around after the game, I can sign your chest,” I told her. She walked up to me.
     
    “Hm, I think I’ll pass, but thanks for the offer.”
     
    “I’m Dante Rock,” I said.
     
    “I know who you are,” she told me. I was used to people looking up at me because of my height, and she was too, but she was pretty tall for a girl.
     
    “Who do you write for? TMZ ?”
     
    “Not a chance. You know, there are a lot of articles about you on there.”
     
    “You’ve been reading about me?”
     
    “Nothing good. I’m Quinn Blaze.”
     
    “Well, Quinn Blaze, you obviously want something from me.”
     
    “An exclusive would be nice.”
     
    “How about I give you that if you let me take you out?”
     
    “Take you out” was code for “let me fuck you.” I mean, I would take her out first. I wasn’t a total animal. She’d get her dinner or her night out, or her wine, whatever she wanted, but then I would have to get what I wanted, too. She was hot. She was smoking. Was she sure she was a reporter? If she ever wanted a career change, she could model or be an old guy’s trophy wife.
     
    “Gotta give me something to write about first,” she said. I got my signal and had to leave. I ran onto the court.
     
    It was just twenty-four minutes. I could do this. I could do this. I had put myself through hours of training after worse nights than the one I had had. This would be a piece of cake. I could play ball in my sleep. It was what I was good at.
     
    I ran out onto the court. There was applause and some quiet booing. Our competitor’s fans were mad that they were going to lose yet another away game. The score was fifty-one to forty-three and they were winning. For now.
     
    I went through the motions, keeping my game simple but fast. I just needed to stay ahead of the other guys and I would be okay. As soon as I got to the three, I would shoot, no hesitation. I caught the ball and dribbled it over to our hoop. I jumped into the air to make the shot and felt another guy thud into my back, taking me down with him. I lost the ball, and it rolled away out of my reach and his too.
     
    The ref had to have seen that.
     
    It was a hard foul. It was a flagrant fucking foul. The guy fucking climbed my back to stop me from making the shot. Barely seconds into the second half and the guy got the fucking whistle blown. If I wasn’t at one hundred percent before, I was now. I was fucking livid. Who was the little shit who thought they could try ? I got up and looked at the ref, waiting for him to say something.
     
    I had my back turned, but I didn’t have to see it to feel it. I felt something hard connect with my shoulder and then the sound of whatever it was hitting the ground. The shit that