Out of Bounds: A Bad Boy Sports Romance
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Out of Bounds
A Bad Boy Sports Romance
Copyright 2016 by Juliana Conners; All Rights Reserved.
Published by Swann Song Books
To view the rest of Juliana Conners’ Amazon catalog,
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Table of Contents
Out of Bounds: A Bad Boy Sports Romance
Chapter 1 – Wesley
Chapter 2 – Wesley
Chapter 3 – Chelsea
Chapter 4 – Chelsea
Chapter 5 – Chelsea
Chapter 6 – Chelsea
Chapter 7 – Wesley
Chapter 8 – Chelsea
Chapter 9 – Chelsea
Chapter 10 – Chelsea
Chapter 11 – Chelsea
Chapter 12 – Wesley
Chapter 13 – Wesley
Chapter 15 – Wesley
Chapter 16 – Chelsea
Chapter 17 – Chelsea
Chapter 18 – Chelsea
Chapter 19 – Chelsea
Chapter 20 – Chelsea
Chapter 21 – Chelsea
Chapter 21 – Wesley
Chapter 23 – Chelsea
Chapter 24 – Wesley
Chapter 25 – Chelsea
Chapter 26 – Wesley
Chapter 27 – Chelsea
Chapter 28 – Wesley
Chapter 29 – Chelsea
Chapter 30 – Wesley
Chapter 31 – Chelsea
Chapter 32 – Wesley
Chapter 33 – Chelsea
Chapter 34 – Chelsea
Chapter 35 – Chelsea
Chapter 36 – Chelsea
Chapter 37 – Chelsea
Chapter 38 – Chelsea
Chapter 39 – Wesley
Chapter 40 – Wesley
Chapter 41 – Wesley
Chapter 42 – Chelsea
Chapter 43 – Chelsea
Chapter 44 – Wesley
Chapter 45 – Chelsea
Chapter 46 – Chelsea
Chapter 47 – Wesley
Chapter 48 – Chelsea
Chapter 49 – Wesley
Chapter 50 – Chelsea
Chapter 51 – Wesley
Chapter 52 – Chelsea
Chapter 53 – Wesley
Epilogue – Chelsea
BONUS BOOK: Jensen: A Military Bad Boy Romance
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
BONUS Excerpt: A Sneak Peek into Harlow: A Military Bad Boy Romance
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Out of Bounds: A Bad Boy Sports Romance
This book is a work of fiction and any similarities to real places, people or events are entirely coincidental. This book may not be reproduced or distributed in any format except for short quotes for review purposes, without the express written consent of the author.
To Matt, as always.
And to Weston Michael, as a welcome to the world and to our crazy family.
Thank you for smiling as you wait for me to finish a scene before I change your diaper.
A NOTE TO THE READER ON THIS EDITION
This Limited Release Bonus Edition of Out of Bounds contains a free copy of Jensen: A Military Bad Boy Romance, Standalone Book # 1 in The Bradford Brothers Series and a brief excerpt of Harlow, Standalone Book # 2 in The Bradford Brothers Series.
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Chapter 1 – Wesley
Damn it.
Midway through walk on try outs, I pull something in my leg.
I’m jumping back into football too soon, too hard, after too much time being away from the field.
A stupid, avoidable injury like this is the reason I should have been practicing all summer.
Except I thought I wasn’t going to get to play.
Scratch that.
I didn’t just think I wasn’t going to get to play, but I was pretty damn sure of it. Since that’s what the Powers That Be had informed me when they not so nicely dismissed me from Huningdale University and from the Warriors football team I had led to victory during my first season as its quarterback.
“Run through it, run through it, run through it!” Coach Thompson bellows at me now.
If only his players were as strong as his lungs.
I can’t believe I’m trying out for such a shitty football team. The Calton Wildcats haven’t won a game in ages.
Or at least I’m pretending to try out. Even suffering from a slight injury, I’m clearly better than every player who was on the team last season and everyone else who is trying to make the team this season.
We all know I’m a shoe in. A deal’s been worked out and I’m already on the team; it’s just a question of whether I get to play or whether I’ll be benched for most or all of the season while I show I can behave when I’m off the field.
Even without the deal, though, I’d still be a sure bet to make the team. No one else comes close to my talent. To be blunt, I’m too good for this team. The Calton Wildcats are a joke compared to the Huningdale Warriors.
But thanks to the hot water I landed myself in back at my old school, it’s this team or nothing, or so I’ve been told.
I couldn’t believe it when they told me I could play at Calton, since it had been months since they’d told me I was a goner for good. I couldn’t believe I was getting a second chance. So now I put up with Coach Thompson shouting at me while I run a bunch of lame, easy drills just for show during walk on try outs for his subpar team.
He’s yards away, but
it feels like he’s yelling right into my ear. I have to admit, he’s a menacing presence, with his large, overbearing figure and his red, puckered-up face.
I try to remind myself that his scary demeanor and raw anger probably come from losing too many games. And that I can fix that little problem for him.
I’ve never been afraid of a coach, but this one has the power to make or break what little is left of my college football career— and whatever lies beyond that.
I pick up the twisted stack of rags on the ground, as required by this drill, and keep running as fast as I can. I tell myself to forget about the pain in my leg, as well as this crazy coach’s screaming.
“Great job, Reynolds!” he yells, as I touch both lines on the field and finish strong in the drill. “Good explosive steps despite your previous hobbling around with whatever pussy footed injury you’ve given yourself. Keep going, keep going!”
Of course he’s impressed. I shouldn’t have worried, even for a second.
Now it’s time for the forty yard dash. I’ve done so many drills in a row today after a long time of not doing much at all. I really should give my out-of-practice leg a rest but I just keep running. And I end up finishing with the fastest time of anyone trying out, while not even breaking a sweat.
If it weren’t for my damn injury, it’d be a piece of cake. This try out is nothing compared to the warm ups my last coach put us through.
“That’s it, keep going, keep it up,” shouts Coach Thompson. “Next drill. Next drill!”
Now I touch orange cones as I run back and forth on the field. Mobility is a big deal and I know that coaches like to see it seamless— partly bum leg or not.
Coach Thompson nods his head with an obvious mixture of pride and amazement as I continue the drill. I know he’s happy he made the right decision by agreeing to allow me to play for Calton University despite my bad reputation.
There’s never been a football coach I couldn’t impress. Before I was the star quarterback of my last school, Huningdale University, I was the star quarterback of Piedmont High School. And before that, Piedmont Middle School.
And I was even the star of flag football, dating way back to my elementary school beginnings. It’s in my blood. In my genes. My father was almost as good of a quarterback as I am.
I know how to walk on to a team. Just like I know how to win football games. It’s what I do.
That, and fuck up, apparently.
Fuck up to the point of getting kicked off my good football team. And then needing my dad to pull strings so that my coach will strike a deal with another coach and allow me play on a shitty team for a season, to prove I can stay on the straight and narrow long enough to come back to my good football team.
“Awesome,” Coach Thompson shouts. “Last one. Keep going.”
I know I need to concentrate. Kiss this coach’s ass for giving me the chance to keep playing. Especially because he’s big and scary.
But I’m in the middle of completing the rope course when I see her.
The proverbial hot cheerleader.
Yeah, there’s always a hot cheerleader. And I’ve had my full of them in the past— which is part of what got me in trouble at my last school.
They loved me until I moved on, and then they’d complain that I’d treated them badly. By breaking their hearts I guess. At Huningdale, I was told to find another dating pool to swim in, to avoid drama between the cheerleading team and the football team.
And I did, for the most part. There were plenty of other girls to fuck, many of whom came with less drama. I should have learned my lesson.
But this cheerleader is too impressive to ignore, no matter what life lessons I’ve learned and no matter what else I’m supposed to be doing at the moment— like not blowing my second chance to play football.
I keep my eyes on her as I hop over the ropes in my drill.
She’s leading a team of cheerleaders onto the field to start practicing as soon as our try outs are over. She’s bouncing around as if she owns the field, and them.
And she looks so fucking good as she’s doing it.
Blonde hair, curvy thighs peeking out from under a short skirt.
Tits peeking out from a low cut top, begging to be devoured.
Holy shit.
They weren’t kidding when they said the girls at Calton University were hot. The school’s football team and pretty much its entire athletic department leaves a lot to be desired— hence its willingness to take a chance on a damaged but talented player such as myself.
But the Calton ladies are well known for their looks. Especially the cheerleaders. And this one is the hottest I think I’ve ever seen.
I can feel my cock growing hard and I nearly trip.
Not a good time.
But damn, all I can think about is fucking her. I want to take her and bend her over and show how what a real athlete can do to her. How Wesley Reynolds, star quarterback, can make her feel. And I want to feel myself inside her.
What I want, I make sure to fucking take.
So I vow to myself, in the middle of walk on try outs for the football team on which I’m supposed to be on my best behavior, to take that head cheerleader.
Chapter 2 – Wesley
“Very good, Reynolds,” Coach Thompson says, clicking his stopwatch and interrupting my little fantasy about the head cheerleader.
Despite my distraction, I’d managed to finish strong. And now I’m free to look without risking screwing up my try outs.
I swear I catch her looking back at me before I turn my gaze back to Coach Thompson’s direction.
“But you’ve got a wandering eye.”
He glares at me, as if personally affronted by the fact that I chose to sneak a peek at the hot cheerleader. What’s it to him? As long as I manage to pull it together on the field, which I just did, I don’t see what the big deal is.
“Keep your eye on the prize,” he continues, in a scolding tone of voice. “I can’t have my second string quarterback distracted by every passing female.”
“Second string quarterback?” I repeat, forgetting all about his chastisement.
I shrug as if it’s no big deal. As if I knew it all along.
And even though I mostly did, it’s always nice to get confirmation.
Because I need this. I would die if I couldn’t play football. The past six months of thinking my career was over just when it had gotten started had been hell.
I need to stay on the straight and narrow now. I know that. But it’s so fucking hard. Just like my cock wants to be, inside that head cheerleader.
“Yes. Second string quarterback. Only if you can prove to me that you can stay focused,” Coach Thompson continues, shaking his head as if he doubts my ability to do that. “Obviously I want you on the team. But you have to show me I’m taking the right risk, putting in a newbie as second string.”
The other guys on the team make rude remarks.
“He wasn’t that fast, Coach.”
“Any one of us could do it better.”
I do my best to block out the negativity. I understand why they’re jealous. I’m intruding on their territory.
And it’s not like I’m even here by choice. This is my last chance freeway, and I have to drive steady on it so that I can get back onto the on ramp of my main career path.
“You sure you can handle the pressure?” asks a calm, quiet voice to my left.
I look over to see someone taking off his helmet while sandy brown hair spills out of it. He’s almost as tall as I am, and in pretty good shape. My competition in the looks department, if not the athletic department.
“Christian Lewis,” says the guy under all the hair, extending his hand for me to shake. “First string running back.”
“Wesley Reynolds,” I tell him. “Newbie intruder.”
“And apparently, second string quarterback,” Christian says, his tone sounding light and refreshing compared to the gruff grumbles of my other new teammates. “Tha
t’s impressive.”
“Thanks.” I shrug.
“Just between you and me—” he lowers his voice. “Our first string quarterback isn’t very good. I think Coach has been looking to replace him, and you’re probably just the guy to fill the slot.”
I nod, even though I already knew as much. Calton hasn’t been known as a good football team in years, and none of its players stand out as being particularly talented. That’s the whole reason I’m even allowed to be here.
But I let Christian continue without interrupting.
“He just has to make it look kosher, you know? Can’t up and put in a brand new player right off the bat. He expects you to prove yourself, and for there to be no doubt that you’re the best player for the position.”
“I see,” I tell him, torn between thanking him for sharing the intel I already knew, and wondering why he’s so eager to help me out.
I say nothing. I could use a friend, and I shouldn’t assume that everyone has bad motives.
I know I’ll be moved up to first string and that I can help pull this team up from the gutter. But I have no intention of oversharing information with this teammate I just met, even though he’s clearly trying to be friendly for some reason.
“I’ll see everyone tomorrow for practice,” Coach Thompson says, dismissing us. “Thanks to those of you who have come to try out. I’ll get you my decisions shortly.”
“Nice, you’re the only one of the candidates who got an automatic yes,” Christian says. “Impressive.”
“My coach back at home was really demanding,” I tell him, as a way to deflect my embarrassment.
Even though I’ve been told I always come off as confident— cocky, even— I can’t take compliments well.
“If it hadn’t been for him, I wouldn’t be nearly as…”
“Good,” Christian finishes my sentence for me, nodding as if it’s a given. “That’s great about your old coach. You know, I’ve heard about you.”
“You have?”
I wonder whether what he heard about me was good or bad. I assume it was bad, under the circumstances and just because it was about me. I’m not about to ask him, though.