by Melody Anne
“That’s more like it. And don’t worry about the little mistakes today. The most important thing is believing in yourself. Just keep focused on staying in sync with the defense when they push up on the counterattack. And if you think you need more help with your offensive positioning, I’ll work with you after practice as much as you want.” Jaime slung her arm around her teammate and walked her back to the bar. She raised her hand and flipped the bird to Alex, who clearly wasn’t as well hidden as he thought.
He chuckled and followed her to the bar, snatching an open stool that let him keep her in his sights.
She climbed up to stand precariously on the dark wood divider between two booths, drawing all eyes her way.
“Raise your glasses, ladies. And unwelcome gentleman.” She tipped her White Russian in his direction. “Today we celebrate the announcement of a new addition to the Falcons family! Jo’s going to be a mom!”
Joanna, one of the Falcons’ starting forwards, held up her phone, displaying a fuzzy black-and-white image of what could very well have been someone’s tonsils. “It’s true! Kara had the confirmation ultrasound this morning. That’s my baby in there!” Jo’s voice was filled with sniffles and pride.
The Falcons hollered and clapped. Alex couldn’t help but smile. He and Jo had talked a fair bit about the challenges of getting pregnant while playing professionally when it didn’t look like Kara’s IVF treatments were taking. The couple had decided to give it one more go before seeing if Joanna had any more luck, but it looked like things had worked out after all.
“To Jo and Kara! May the baby come out healthy and kicking!” Jaime raised her glass, sparing Alex a challenging look as she tipped the glass to her lips. He gestured with two fingers that he was watching her.
His stare-down was interrupted when Alyssa sidled into the seat next to him and tapped him on the shoulder. “Hi, stranger. We never see you here. How come you don’t celebrate with us more often?”
Alex shrugged. “Not really a bar kind of guy.” In truth, he’d love nothing more than a cold beer after a long day, but a certain amount of professional distance was critical as a sports physiotherapist. Especially as a male physiotherapist working in women’s soccer. It was too easy to get caught up in the successes and failures of the athletes. His role was to provide support along their journeys, and nothing more. But it had been a very long day, and he couldn’t resist taking a sip of the pint she poured from one of the many pitchers on the table and set in front of him.
Alyssa nudged him with her elbow after he’d polished off half the lager. “We don’t bite. You should come by more often. Loosen up a little.”
“How’s the knee? Are you keeping an eye on it for infection?”
“It’s fine. Right now, I’m more concerned with exercising my brachioradialis.”
He shook his head and smiled in spite of himself. “Your drinking arm?”
“Yep! Hey, is it true that there are no muscles whatsoever in the fingers?”
His internal nerd kicked into gear as he went into the details of mechanics of the finger joints. It felt good to relax. It took only a few moments for him to scan the room and realize he had made a mistake.
Jaime was long gone.
JAIME PADDED BAREFOOT ALONG the musty green-and-brown hallway carpet, fighting the urge to run. She almost always relied on her speed when she wanted to avoid the more unpleasant parts of her life, but tonight’s mission called for stealth. It had been a roller coaster of a day, but kicking back with her girls was the perfect way to end on a high note. There was no way she was going to let Mr. Surly Face bring her down.
She bypassed the elevators and headed for the stairs tucked away at the far end of the hall, wondering briefly if she ought to put her flip-flops back on. The thought of coming into direct contact with the cold, sticky cement revolted her, but Alex had ears like a damn cat, and the echo of her flip-flops smacking against her heels would be a dead giveaway.
Pain lanced through her right ankle as she rounded a sharp corner. She bit her lip and kept walking. She was as good at ignoring her problems as she was at running away from them. It was the number one reason she clashed with Alex, a man who insisted on finding problems when there weren’t any to begin with. And by the look on his face at the bar, he was probably pissed off enough to cause an injury just so he could diagnose one.
The floor creaked a few paces behind, raising the hair on the back of her neck. Stay calm . . .
“Jaime! Get your ass back here!”
Her heartbeat kicked into overdrive at the sound of Alex’s command. She took off, pushing through the stairwell door and bounding up the steps two at a time, not for the first time wishing she were at least six inches taller. When the throbbing in her ankle was too much, she slipped out onto a random floor and ducked into a recessed doorway halfway down the hall to catch her breath and figure out her next move. Minutes passed with silence permeating the air while she kept her eyes glued to the stairwell. Maybe she had lost him after all.
“Interesting choice of hiding places, Chen.”
She yelped when, out of nowhere, the man she’d been avoiding for the past four hours stepped in front of her. He slapped his hands against the door next to her head and locked her in the cage of his densely muscled arms. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t particularly tall. He had the kind of commanding presence that magnified his size fivefold. A shiver wrapped around her spine as he fixed his dark eyes on her. His expression was so hard it was almost robotic. No blinking, no twitches. Just those endless black eyes.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said, deep voice filled with dark promises.
“Nah, just preoccupied with my quest to take over the world.”
His eyes narrowed, showing no trace of humor. It blew her mind how much her teammates adored the man. She always got the impression he was secretly plotting ways to make her disappear.
“Looks like your schedule just opened up.”
Jaime knew there were only two ways to get out of a hairy situation like this. She could knee him in the balls and make a run for it, but there was no guarantee he wouldn’t catch up and hit back just as hard. The other option was to scare him off.
It was an opportunity too delectable to pass up.
She widened her eyes to make her look both innocent and flirtatious, a technique she’d perfected since she first discovered boys at the tender age of twelve. She relaxed against the door and arched her back in an utterly coquettish pose, and traced the muscle bulging in his forearm with her index finger.
Victory, she thought as his eyes flashed with surprise and his body recoiled.
“I have to admit,” she said in her most breathy voice, “it really turns me on when a man acts all bossy and domineering.”
He recovered quicker from his shock than she’d expected. The corners of his mouth lifted into a slight grin. The look of desire on his face was almost frightening. It was the kind of expression that said he liked forbidden dangers. The problem was, so did she. Jaime swallowed her panic, heart pounding in her chest. He slid his hands behind her butt and hoisted her up until her legs wrapped around his waist, hands clinging to his muscular shoulders for balance. Her back hit the door, arching sharply as his pelvis pressed into hers.
Jaime’s brain went dizzy. This was not what was supposed to happen. Her body, already ablaze with adrenaline and excitement from the chase, reacted traitorously to the hard planes of his body that she could feel perfectly through her flimsy cotton shorts and tank top. His large hands cupped her ass like they were designed to fit her body. With his mouth barely an inch from hers, she noticed his lips for the first time. They were remarkably thick and luscious. Kissable.
Jaime was impulsive, but this was crazy even by her standards. It’s not like he was actually planning on ravaging her on the third-floor hallway of a Best Western. Right? “We’re not really going to do this here, are we?”
“I thought you liked living on the edge.”
&nbs
p; She gulped. “Some things are better in the dark, don’t you think?”
“Have it your way.” Just when she thought her plan couldn’t backfire any further, the door behind her jerked open and gave way. She shrieked and clenched her limbs around him in a death grip.
He flashed a key card in front of her face with his free hand.
“This is your room?” This time, the breathiness in her voice wasn’t faked.
“Yep.” With only the harsh light from the parking lot seeping through the dark room, he walked her to the springy king bed and plopped her down on the burgundy duvet.
“There are probably five hundred rooms in this hotel,” she muttered.
Ignoring her whining, he settled on top of her and forced her arms above her head, locking them in place with one hand. “So you like to be dominated?” His whisper tickled her ear and sent heat shooting to her core.
She gasped involuntarily. The thick denim of his jeans scratched against the bare, sensitive skin on her inner thighs. Her legs were speckled with bruises from the game, but the occasional flashes of pain only made their contact seem more illicit and arousing. She writhed beneath him, and his expression grew darker. And damn if it didn’t turn her on, too. God, this was sexy as hell. But she didn’t really want this, did she? It was as though she just met a whole new Alex. One that needed to get naked right now and show her every hard edge of manliness hidden beneath those perfectly fitting dark jeans. Down, libido! Down!
He dipped his head, dark eyes taking in every inch of her body. His warm breath brushed the sweet spot of her neck, making her gasp. Oh god, right there. Please, right there. He growled, teasing her with his breath, but his lips never made contact. The frustration snapped her rational mind back into place. The bastard was calling her bluff. And worse yet, she was actually falling for it.
Time for a little revenge. She hummed her agreement and arched her back, pressing her chest to his. “And sometimes I like to do the dominating.”
A heavy, pregnant silence passed between them. His brow furrowed, a classic tell that he was calculating his next move. The balance of power was shifting back in her favor.
“Why don’t we save that until next time,” he said, voice cracking ever so slightly. “Tonight, I’m in charge.”
She had him right where she wanted him. One more sexual innuendo and he’d probably be running for the hills with his balls in his hands. “Well then,” she purred, “what do you have in store for me? Keep in mind . . . I like it rough.”
His body went still. His eyes met hers with scorching intensity, like a match being struck. “I’m going to make you scream my name and beg for mercy.”
Her breath rushed from her chest as his words, however fake they may have been, sent pulses of desire to her core. It had been a long time since she’d felt this kind of consuming heat. Much too long.
Alex leaned forward in the unmistakable “reaching for a condom” move, rocking his pelvis into hers. That’s when she realized she was in way over her head. He was as hard as steel, and it felt amazing.
Her thoughts whirred in a million directions. Even if he was as turned-on as she was, and there was some pretty indisputable evidence to support her case, he couldn’t possibly be taking her advances seriously. After all, he was Alex. And she was Jaime. Oil and water. They couldn’t do this. Not without brushing her teeth first to get rid of her tequila breath, at the very least. If she was going to go through with accidental pride-sex with Alex, it had to be amazing, mind-blowing pride-sex, and that couldn’t happen if her breath wasn’t minty fresh.
A burning cold slashed through her frantic thoughts and seared the skin on her ankle.
“Argh! What the hell, Alex? Get it off me!” He hadn’t grabbed a condom. He’d grabbed an ice pack.
“I think your hormones were getting a little overheated. This should help cool you down.” Alex’s triumph was etched into the smug crinkles around his eyes as he stared down at her. Arms still pinned, she couldn’t escape as the initial sting settled into a deep, freezing ache all the way to her bones.
Jaime wasn’t easily embarrassed, but falling for his counterploy was not going to go down as a favorite memory. “You finally develop a sense of humor, and this is what you use it for?” She jerked her wrists but couldn’t break free from his hold. The effort only made his grin wider.
“Whatever gets the job done. You forced me to get a little creative in my methods.”
“Do you have some kind of cold fetish you want to tell me about? ’Cause it’s really weird to keep an ice pack next to your bed.”
“I had it ready for you on the assumption you’d come willingly. But it works just the same, regardless of whether you want it or not.”
“Okay, okay. You win. How long do I have to stay here?”
“At least fifteen minutes,” he said as matter-of-factly as if they were in the back of the stadium’s treatment room.
A few more silent seconds passed, adding a heavy weight to the air around them. Though the charade was over, the chemistry that sparked between them had not dissipated, probably because his body was still planked above hers, forcing her to think some very naughty thoughts. Like wondering what he could do with those lips. Those damn fine lips that were still kissing distance from hers.
“Are you sure you can hold your arm like that for much longer?” she asked, referring to the awkward angle of his left elbow, his arm stretched out behind him holding the ice pack against the ankle that was still wrapped around his waist.
“Don’t worry, baby. I can go all night.”
She scowled. The bastard was enjoying tormenting her way too much.
The second book in the Perfect Play series sees Jamie Chen, Lainey’s cocaptain, attempting to run from her feelings for the team’s physiotherapist, Alex Martinez. Is she fast enough to outrun her heart, or will she slow down to finally let him in?
Keeping Score
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This book is for anyone who has ever felt uncomfortable in their own skin.
If the Queen of England booked a gig at Fernbrooke’s only theater to do a lyrical jazz routine with a unicorn, I might’ve had an easier time finding parking than I did that night.
I dashed down Main Street, stumbling over my own feet as I texted Jin that I’d be there soon. Conveniently, I left out the part where I’d sat in the driveway for twenty minutes, covered in sweat, visualizing either a mob scene or an empty building. Neither possibility stopped the hum vibrating through my skin or made it easier to start the car. That took a few deep breaths, and the knowledge that if I backed out, Jin would show up and drag me there anyway.
The screen lit up with Jin’s reply—mostly expletives in all caps—and I glanced at the time.
Eleven fifty-five.
Crap. I had five minutes.
Picking up speed, I shoved my phone into my jeans. Perspiration beaded along my neck and snaked down my back as I pressed against the thick August air. I swerved around the crumbling town library, then skidded to a halt.
Hundreds of people lined the wall of the mini mall. They wound in front of the darkened stores and around another corner. The start of the line wasn’t in sight. My fingers instinctively traced the scar that ran from my temple to my jaw as I surveyed the crowd. Many sported horned hats or fur stoles. A boy wielding a foamy mug of beer saw me and grinned.
Yeah, there was no freaking way I was doing this.
I whirled away from the crowd and my phone buzzed against my leg. I knew what it said before I even glanced at the screen.
JIN: Where do you think you’re going? Turn around and come back. I’m not far from you. You can do this, Elise.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, shutting out the world. I pictured Dag and imagined what he’d do in this situation. That was easy. He’d swallow his fear and go stand in the line, probably knocking people out of the way to reach the front. Of course, he was also a Viking hero and completely ficti
onal, a creation of my own quixotic imagination.
Tugging a lock of dirty-blond hair over my scar, I spun back and found Jin’s familiar dark head about a hundred people away. The shimmering violet tips of his hair made him easy to identify among the crowd. Focusing only on the bobbing clusters of purple, I made it to him as the line began to move. He smiled as I approached.
I’m glad you came, he signed.
Jin had worked hard to master ASL through high school and it had paid off. I was now easily able to understand his spastic body movements as opposed to insisting he speak instead so I could read his lips. While reading lips allowed me to get along just fine, it wasn’t a perfect means of communication. Lots of things could get in the way—like too many shadows, not enough light, or overgrown facial hair. Often, I understood a little more than half of what someone said, and interpreted the rest through their body language and my own creativity.
I don’t know why we’re here, I signed back. I have twenty copies at home.
Because you need to get a life. Or how will you survive college without me?
I ignored the impulse to roll my eyes. No wonder he was headed to Juilliard for theater soon. Jin and drama went together like chocolate and peanut butter.
I’ll write, I signed. Who needs people when I have my laptop?