Offside: Rules of the Game Book 1

The next morning, I reluctantly dragged myself out of bed to attend an early morning ice time. After crashing hard and sleeping for the first time in a week, leaving the comfort of Bailey’s body beneath warm, cozy blankets was a struggle. I’d regressed to the phase when things were new with us, and I was actively trying not to be a stage-five clinger. Except right now, I wasn’t trying to fight it. I was straight-up, unapologetically clinging. I didn’t want to let her out of my sight.

With practice finally over, I swung back over to her place to pick her up. Because, again, I was static cling city.

After hopping out to open her door and give her a quick hello kiss, I slid back into the driver’s side. We planned to grab an early lunch once we took care of an unpleasant but completely necessary task. Then I’d do my best to forget about everything for a while.

I waited with the truck idling while Bailey buckled her seat belt.

Lifting her chin, she gave me a small smile. “How was practice?”

She was trying a little too hard to sound casual, like it was another ordinary day.

“It was okay.”

That was a white lie. Or a big fat lie, rather, because practice was a tire fire. I hadn’t been on the ice in almost seven days, and it showed. It had been years since I’d gone that long without putting on skates.

To make matters worse, Coach Miller worked me until I nearly keeled over on the ice—probably as payback for my disappearing act. Things went downhill from there when I was hauled into his office afterward and grilled like a goddamn steak over an open flame. Like everyone else in the world, Coach Miller heard about the video, but it was clear he didn’t have the whole story. His interrogation was so invasive, I was surprised he didn’t a strip search me or stick a needle in my arm right then and there to drug test me for good measure. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if I got a call in the next few days for the latter.

He started citing morality clauses, behavior expectations for the school’s varsity athletes, and our team’s code of conduct. Our conversation made a drastic detour when I explained the non-consensual nature of the tape, and then he was more sympathetic than I’d expected. I cut the conversation short and gave him Stewart’s contact information in case he had any more questions. Presumably, dropping the attorney word would put the issue to rest with him and the school’s administration.

“But are you okay?” Bailey prodded, concern across her face.

I met her gaze briefly before breaking away again and gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Yeah, sure. I’m fine.”

Her lips rolled together, making it clear she didn’t believe that, but she said nothing. She knew when and when not to push me, and I loved her for that.

Our drive was largely silent, mostly because I was exhausted on every level imaginable. Between having Stewart in my corner and the fact that, frankly, the team needed me, I wasn’t overly concerned about my spot on the Falcons roster. Los Angeles was another story. My future for next year was up in the air.

While being on a Division I hockey team was like being under a magnifying glass, playing professionally was like living under a high-performance microscope. The scrutiny was next-level. The media, the public, everyone was constantly all over the athletes. I knew that firsthand from my dad. They camped out in front of our house for weeks after he died, shoving their cameras in our faces and yelling at us, trying to get quotes and soundbites. Vultures. I was having flashbacks to that time with all the attention this tape was getting.

On top of all that, I had mixed feelings about the possibility of staying, but I knew it could have been a lot worse. Realistically, keeping my contract and getting to spend another year with Bailey was the best-case scenario.

Ten minutes sped by like ten seconds, and we arrived at our destination before I was ready. I pulled into a vacant visitor space and switched off the ignition. The squat gray brick building stared back at me through the windshield like an insurmountable mountain.

Apprehension bowled me over, and I set my jaw. My hands stuck to the steering wheel like they were being held in place by an invisible force.

“Chase.” Bailey unfastened her seat belt and scooted closer to me. “It’ll be all right.” She covered my hand with hers, her skin soft and cool against mine. “Stewart said it’s straightforward. We’ll go in, give our statements, hand over copies of the text messages and recordings, and we’ll be done in no time.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Let’s get this over with.”

She grabbed her tan purse off the console and held it in her lap, waiting for me. I shifted in my seat but didn’t release my death grip on the leather steering wheel. My brain knew I should get out, but my body wouldn’t cooperate.

Frustration surged through my veins, further fueled by the unfairness of the situation. Today wouldn’t be the end of it by a long shot. This was merely setting the wheels in motion for criminal proceedings to come. Seeking justice meant I would be forced to relive last April and the past week over and over again, like a nightmare stuck on repeat. Worst of all, the minute we filed our reports, Bailey would be dragged even deeper into this mess—the very thing I’d been trying to avoid all along.

In addition, there was the civil suit being spearheaded by Dallas’s father. I was going to take Morrison and his trust fund to the fucking cleaners, and then I’d donate all the proceeds to whatever charity he hated most—which was probably any of them, because he was a piece of shit.

Bailey wrapped her arms around my neck and gave me a squeeze. I turned my head and buried my face in her hair, inhaling her familiar scent. My anxiety lowered a notch, and my breathing deepened, resuming a more normal pattern.

“I got you,” she murmured.

“I know.” And I was lucky for it.

Curled up under a blanket on the couch in my living room, we idly watched the New York vs. Boston game. It was in sudden-death overtime, but I couldn’t garner even an ounce of excitement. It had been less than twenty-four hours, but the video had already exploded all over the internet. Luke had been muzzled a few hours too late, and the genie was out of the bottle.

I hadn’t even talked to my mom yet. At the rate things were going, she’d hear about it herself—which would be so much worse—if I didn’t tell her soon. Still, it was a conversation I sorely did not want to have.

Bailey leaned forward, bracing her hands on her knees. “Holy crap. Did you see that shot? That was insane.”

“Huh?” I said absently. “Oh, yeah. Crazy.”

With that goal, the game was over. I had no idea what had happened or who’d won. My mind kept circling back to how things had gone down today.

Stewart’s firm was working overtime on damage control, sending menacing cease and desist letters to companies and individuals, contacting search engines to have it de-indexed in their databases, and dealing directly with hosting providers to have the content removed, but it was like a goddamn game of whack-a-mole. And all that did nothing to stop the copies circulating privately via text message and social media.

Everyone knew my business. And I do mean everyone. My phone had been inundated with a steady stream of calls and texts from people I hadn’t spoken to in ages or had never spoken to in the first place. I’d have to change my number first thing in the morning. I hadn’t logged into social media, either, and I was considering deleting my accounts without even checking.

At least Derek had been understanding once Bailey confirmed that I didn’t cheat on her with two girls. After she explained, he was almost as angry as I was. According to him, Luke had been placed on an indefinite suspension from the team. It was a small victory, but at this point, I’d take any I could get, no matter the size.

The biggest positive was that Luke hadn’t dragged Bailey into it like he’d threatened—maybe his parents reined him in before he could, or maybe it had been an empty threat all along. Either way, I was thankful as hell.

Still, Bailey would be known as the girlfriend of that guy from now on. While she insisted that she didn’t care, I did.

She wordlessly grabbed the remote and turned the volume down. Then she climbed onto my lap, straddling me, and ducked her head. When she failed to catch my eye, she poked my abs.

“Carter.”

I gave in eventually and looked up at her, sulking.

Her pupils dilated and her expression softened. “I wish you saw yourself the way I see you.”

Despite my crappy mood, I couldn’t fight back the smile. “Now you’re stealing my lines?”

“Maybe.” She tipped closer. The cherry-vanilla of her lip balm drifted over as she brushed her lips against mine. “But it’s true. I think you’re pretty great.”

At the moment, I felt like a million things. Great wasn’t one of them.

“You’re a little biased, James.”

Bailey flattened a palm against my chest. My heart drummed against her hand, the pervasive tension in my body easing with each beat. She’d had that effect on me from the day I met her, like a superpower meant for me only.

“You saying my opinion doesn’t count?” Lips parted, she watched me. In the moment, she looked perfect. I couldn’t believe she was mine. I didn’t know how I got so lucky, but I’d do everything in my power to keep her.

“Of course it does, but…” I didn’t have a response that didn’t make me sound like a dick. Obviously, her opinion counted. But she was wrong in this case.

She traced my jawline with the pad of her thumb, studying my face intently. “My opinion counts the most, because I know who you are inside.” Her hazel eyes held mine, patterned with a kaleidoscope of green and gold I knew by heart. “You’ve been nothing but patient and kind with me. No one has ever made me feel cared for the way you do.”

At least I got one thing right.

“Of course,” I said, rubbing her lower back. “I love you. I think part of me always knew I would.”

I never cared about anything before Bailey—not even myself. I was sort of existing. Coasting through life on autopilot, playing hockey, half-assing school, and getting fucked up every weekend. I figured that was it until the league. Even then, I’d probably have done the same thing, just with a bigger budget.

Her breath snagged, and her eyes glittered with unshed tears. She looked up, trying to blink them away.

“Dammit.” Guilt swirled in my stomach. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.” I grabbed a tissue from the box on the end table and handed it to her.

Bailey sobbed a laugh, dabbing at her eyes. “It’s not the bad kind of crying. But it’s messing with my attempt to seduce you.”

“I’ll stop talking.” I sat back. “Seduce away.” I wasn’t worthy, would never be worthy. But I wasn’t dumb enough to argue with that.

“Yeah?” Her lips curled into a lopsided grin that was somehow sexy and adorable all at once. Damn, I loved those lips. I wanted to kiss them for the rest of my life.

“Hell yeah.”

We’d been so tired the night before that we fell into a near-coma without even having makeup sex. At this point, I wanted her so bad it hurt. Literally. And having her on top of me was compounding that significantly.

I missed her. Needed her. Loved her.

Eyelids heavy, Bailey tilted her head, and her mouth met mine, soft and sweet. A rush ran through my body, and everything clicked back into place.

I drew in a breath, deepening the kiss, and she parted her lips for me, her slender fingers digging into my shoulders. With my hands on the soft, bare skin of her waist, I pulled a soft sigh from her. Then I was sliding under her tank top and exploring her body like it was the first time. Savoring every smooth inch beneath my fingers, every curve beneath my palms—shoulders, breasts, stomach, hips.

I slid my hands down to grip her from behind and pulled her tighter. She fit in my hold perfectly, fit against my body perfectly, like she always did. Letting out a small moan, she moved against me and sent a surge of pleasure through my body. My craving for her kicked into overdrive in response. Suddenly, I was torn between the frantic need to touch her, taste her, claim every part of her, and the desire to draw it out and make up for lost time. More than anything, I wanted to be close to her, to have her body pressed up against mine with nothing between us.

Bailey ground against me again, and I grabbed the hem of her tank top and slid it up her torso.

She froze. “Roommates?” It was a breath against my lips.

“Good point.” Dallas was at the girls’ apartment, but I had no idea what Ty’s plans were. I ducked my head and planted a kiss on the hollow of her neck. “Let’s go upstairs.”