Offside (Rules of the Game, #1)

“Don’t worry.” Her lips quirked. “It was nothing compared to the things you whisper in my ear in public all the time.”


I should fucking hope not. I’d said some pretty filthy things to her. If another guy talked to her like that, I would cut out his tongue.

“Better not be.”

Beneath the white linen tablecloth, I skimmed my hand down her leg and dipped under the hemline of her dress. Bailey drew in a soft breath as I walked my fingers up the smooth, silky skin of her inner thigh. Too bad it wasn’t my mouth. But later…

“Jealous, Carter?” Her voice turned breathy, taking my mind to even dirtier places.

“Just making sure he was somewhat respectful.”

My fingers traveled another inch, close to reaching my desired target. Bailey bit her bottom lip, crossing her legs and clamping down on my hand with her thighs so that I couldn’t move any higher. She shot me a sidelong glance, fighting a smile. I definitely had her going, and I’d gotten myself worked up in the process too. Was there a coat closet somewhere nearby, or…?

“For the record, Mr. Caveman, I’ve caught multiple girls checking you out tonight. One practically undressed you with her eyes.”

Probably Kristen. She basically eye-fucked me. Awkward. Bailey took that in stride, though. I wouldn’t have been thrilled in her shoes. Hell, I wasn’t thrilled myself.

“There are other chicks here?”

“Well played.” She smirked. “You must want to get lucky tonight.”

“Wasn’t I going to get lucky before?”

“Oh, I meant extra lucky.”

Fuck me. I would be surprised if I left this event without getting arrested for doing something indecent.

“What does extra lucky mean?” I lowered my voice, ducking to catch her gaze. Anyone who came back to our table before I found out the answer to this was going to be on the receiving end of a galvanized death stare.

Bailey’s eyes danced in the warm light. “I don’t know. What do you want it to mean?”

“Are you sure you want to know the answer to that?”

What don’t I want it to mean? That list is probably shorter.

“Tell me and we’ll see.” She inclined her head, bringing her ear closer to my mouth. God, she smelled good. Maybe we could call it a night early. Like right now.

“I picked up those Velcro cuffs we talked about the other day.”

“Hmm.” She shrugged. “Maybe if you’re nice.”

“I’m always nice, baby.”





Unfortunately for me, several hours and three drinks later, Bailey was in no condition to be tied up—or do much of anything other than pass out.

When Siobhan handed Bailey that last drink, I had a hunch it might put her over the edge. I didn’t say anything, but maybe I should have, because by the time we got out of the cab, the drink had worked its way into her system and she could barely walk a straight line. And she tripped on the sidewalk. Twice.

I steadied her with an arm around her lower back as we climbed the staircase. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, why?” Bailey stumbled as we scaled the last stair.

“Easy.” I was having some vague déjà vu from the night at XS, though the circumstances were dramatically different. Better in every way—I was with her now and also, no one was throwing up. Not yet at least.

“I’m fine,” she insisted.

I steered her over to my dresser and released her once I was confident she’d regained her footing. “You will be once you sleep it off, my little lightweight.”

“Sleep it off?” She looked up, making a pouty face that was both adorable and sad. “I didn’t think we were going to sleep. You said we could…”

“I love you, but you’re minutes away from having the spins, and that won’t be a good time for either of us.”

Bailey harrumphed a little sound of annoyance, like she knew I was right but didn’t want to admit it. I kissed the top of her head and turned toward the bathroom to brush my teeth. While she got ready for bed, I went down to the kitchen to grab two glasses of water. When I returned, Bailey was in bed with the covers pulled up to her chin, looking pitiful.

She rolled onto her side, and the blanket shifted, revealing a sliver of my red Falcons T-shirt. “I feel gross.”

“You’ll feel better in the morning.” I set the water on the nightstand and slid into bed beside her.

“Then I’ll be hungover.”

“Drink something. It’ll help.” I picked up her a glass from my nightstand and handed it to her. She drained half of it before placing it on her side of the bed. When she settled under the blankets again, I pulled her closer, and she slipped beneath my arm, nestling against my chest.

“I ruined our night.”

“Not at all. Obviously, you’re not getting out of being tied up another time, but that can wait. Did you have fun?”

“I did…” She groaned, covering her eyes. “But why am I so drunk? I didn’t even drink very much.”

“You don’t drink very often, though.”

“Neither do you.”

Not anymore. Probably a handful of times since we’d been together. Maybe I still had some leftover tolerance.

“I’m also, like, twice your size.”

Bailey laughed. “Not even.”

“Fine. One and a half times your size.”

She snuggled closer to me, letting out a long sigh. As she fell quiet, her breaths grew slower and more even, like she’d drifted off, but a moment later, she spoke up again.

“My academic advisor is going to put in a good word for me with the scholarship committee. She has a lot of sway as the department head. Plus, I got a call about videoconference interview for that internship…” She trailed off. “I wasn’t going to tell you about either of those because I was scared of jinxing them. But if you do leave, maybe at least those things will work out.”

My chest tightened, and there was a sharp pang in my gut. She was obviously spinning in circles about this, but I didn’t know what I could do to help. It wasn’t even a surefire thing yet.

“Don’t worry about the leaving thing for now, James.”

“It’s hard not to.”

I kissed the top of her head, giving her a squeeze. “I’m here now, right?”

“I know.”





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CHAPTER 50





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GAME DAY





Chase



Slivers of golden afternoon light filtered in from the gaps between my blinds, rudely reminding me it was the middle of the day and I was wide awake. I let out a heavy sigh of frustration, staring at the stark white ceiling. The house was silent, the air still. Both of the guys were probably out cold—like I should have been. Like I wanted to be.

Unfortunately, I’d been vibrating with excess energy from the moment I woke up this morning. My long-standing, low-level rage toward Morrison had mingled with an unpleasant tinge of anxiety, making it impossible to relax, let alone fall asleep. I hated worrying, rarely ever did it, and thoroughly resented that I was. But this was personal in a way no matchup had ever been before.

I was going to win or die trying.

Was probably going to hit the wall something fierce after the game was over too, but as long as we emerged victorious, I didn’t care.

Because of classes and pre-game prep after, I didn’t get to see Bailey. I’d loosened up on my rigid pre-game routine lately, but I couldn’t take any chances today. Ty, Dallas, and I religiously executed every single superstitious ritual we had, no matter how small or how silly. Even the dumb ones, like Dallas wearing his pair of lucky socks and which one of was driving to the rink.

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