Page 40 of Out of Bounds

Serial Killer Text Messages

I didn’t know what to think.

In the athletics dorm—Roman Villa but everybody just called it RV—I wasn’t in the mood to talk to anybody. A handful of people were still in the lobby, trying to get my attention, but I walked past them and hit the elevators, swearing under my breath.

Stupid mistake, Ryan.

Where did all of that shit come from? Kassie had been in my car for ten minutes and I was practically on my knees, confessing my sins to her. Everything that I’d kept quiet about. My worries about being team captain, how rigid my routines were, Adam being a dumbass and fucking around—all of it.

"Christ," I muttered under my breath, squeezing my eyes shut. I needed to get a grip.

The restlessness didn’t leave me when I wrestled my door open, slamming it shut behind me. It was too quiet inside. I was left alone with the fact that I’d been wound so tight, Kassie had pushed a single button, and I’d collapsed.

That’s not team captain behavior.

I grabbed an ice pack from the freezer and sat on my couch, staring listlessly at the TV that I never bothered to turn on. With what free time? Now, there was too much of it. I had tonight off and no practice tomorrow. What was I supposed to do with myself?

I could text Kassie.

My eyes flickered down to my phone, which had somehow ended up in my hand.

I should’ve been fuming at Adam and thinking about the Marrs Manwhore problem. Maybe calling an emergency meeting with Cleo. He was the whole reason I’d gotten roped into this fake relationship bullshit. But every time I tried to think about anything else, my thoughts drifted back to Kassie.

To those long legs over the counter. To her drunk smile as she shifted closer to me. The way her thighs had felt, even through the jeans. Her, in my car. Leaning forward, her eyebrows knitted in concern, the soft pink of her lips…

I grabbed the denim and shifted it uncomfortably.

My cock pressed against the zipper in my jeans. I couldn’t even remember the last time I had a minute to jerk off. Which wasn’t happening tonight. I needed to take advantage of the free time to get something done. But I ran my hand through my hair, remembering how she’d raised her eyebrow at me.

We can’t have everything we want, can we?

Her words settled over me. I undid the button of my jeans and my breathing labored. What did I want? I wanted to pick Kassie up again. Slowly, I closed my eyes, just thinking aboutKassie in those short shorts, thinking about her so close, I could practically taste her.

I took my cock out of my boxers and ran my hand along the shaft. It throbbed.

"No, goddammit." I pushed up from the couch and the ice pack hit the ground. Jacking myself off to my fake girlfriend wasn’t the wise thing to do. It wouldn’t cool me down. If anything, it’d send me straight to her bedroom.

I’d probably start using those corny Adam lines. Something about kissing my bruised knuckles better.

Kassie Ragar signed a contract with the Romans. She was off-limits as off-limits could be.

"Alright," I muttered, buttoning my jeans again. I reached for my phone. "Be professional."

I started typing in Kassie’s name but it popped up instantly, starting with a C. That was weird. Didn’t she spell her name with a K? There weren’t any leftover messages from the conversation either. I must’ve messed that up somehow.

Fucking technology.

"Just say something," I said, pacing across the room. "Tonight ended up being a success. Being team captain is applauding the wins too."

That’s right, I could treat her like a football player on my team.

RYAN:I WANTED TO THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE.

RYAN:IT WAS A SUCCESSFUL EVENING.

RYAN:GOOD JOB.

Perfect. Couldn’t be better.

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