Page 185 of Falling Offsides

After everything she’s put Courtney through, I’m not even sure I want to meet the woman. The way she’s allowed her piece of shit husband to bully and undermine my girl’s spirit is abominable to me.

But.

My girlloves her. And if she can find it in herself to forgive and move on, then so can I.AndI can be fucking honored and blown away.

Speechless.

I watch Courtney pull my compression shorts from my kitbag and put them on with a quip about it being “walk of shame chic” before she fluffs her gorgeous, frizzy curls to one side and ties a knot in the hem of my t-shirt.

Fuck me, this woman has never looked more beautiful than she does as we lace hands and head out.

In spite of everything going on around us, I’ve never felt luckier or this grounded. In touch with myself.

We eat at a quiet café near the hotel. Court barely touches her granola yoghurt bowl. I mean, as nice as it looks, I’m not into vegan labeled rabbit food, and neither is she. So as we leave, I pick up the check and adairy-free blueberry scone with lemon curd filling and another oat milk vanilla latte.

“Are you trying to fatten me up?” Courtney jokes, and I chuckle along even though her laugh is tense and wrong. “No, seriously, you’ve been feeding me since day one.”

“Day two. On day one I knocked you off your feet, Princess.”

“Why do you call me Princess?” Courtney takes one last bite of her scone before I take her into a clothes store a few blocks from the hotel.

“Because… you opened your eyes and it was my first thought.”

Courtney spins to level me with a frown while she walks backwards through the store. “Your first thought about me was that I’m a princess? Like, do you really think I’m a brat?”

“Not in the bad way you’re thinking. You were wearing this poofy sleeve top and then you opened your eyes and my first thought wasSnow White.”

“She has brown eyes and short hair.”

“I don’t know why, it just pinged and you always wear those princess sleeves so it stuck.”

“I wear those sleeves because I’m a pear shape. My hips are wider than my shoulders, and the poofy sleeves balance it out.”

“I think you’re perfectly balanced without the poofy sleeves.” I grip her waist and tug her into me as we reach the end of a rack.

I grab her ass and she grabs a couple random pieces from the rack. “Take me to the changing room, Masterchef.”

“The changing room?” I choke, surprised by her request because the two assistants are watching us and with everything going on, I don’t want to take advantage of her… and we’re in public.

We’ve never done anything sexual in public. I’ve never done anything intimate in public.

It’s risky. It’s dangerous. It’s fucking insane—and my dick is hyped for it.

“The fucking changing room, Auguste. I need this. I need you.”

I turn her around and guide her to the hallway with changing rooms on either side. Ignoring the women watching us, we head for the one at the very end.

Courtney opens the door and I close it behind me.

“They know what we’re doing, Court.”

“And they know who you are. They’ve been watching your hockey wonderboy ass since we walked in…”

“And you know that how?”

“Because I’ve been watching them, and I don’t like it.” Court tugs my sweats down my thighs along with my underwear. Then she spits into her hand and wraps it around my cock with a firm squeeze. “Mine. Remember?”

“Yours,” I whimper—fucking whimper—in reply, slapping my hand to her cunt.

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