Page 31 of Offside

Bummer I’m only getting massage relief from Kip and not the sexual release I’d wanted with Karis last night.

The thought of marching upstairs to Karis’s office and blinding her with a kiss, followed by fucking her up against those glass windows like I did in Vegas, has my cock twitching for relief.

And laying out on a massage therapist’s table is not a great place to have a hard-on.

I refocus my thoughts on the game ahead. It may only be preseason but it’s against one of our toughest competitors and now the team of my archnemesis, Sergei Russo.

Russo was traded from Dallas to Toronto at the end of last season. I may have the nickname of The Beast, but it’s Russo who is the biggest brute of them all. He’s always been a dirty player and ends up in the sin bin more times in a game than the rest of his team combined.

He plays dirty and rough and nobody likes him—not even his own teammates. I suppose that’s why Toronto wanted him. Their win record last year sucked so they’re probably trying to shake up their lines and need a guy who is going to do just that.

My entire career I’ve skated against the biggest and strongest players, guys who have one goal in mind, and that’s to light the lamp. To do that, we blueliners have to block and attack to guard our net and the puck. It’s a full-on physical contact sport.

I’ve been checked against the boards, cross-checked from behind and concussed many times. I’m a hockey player—I get hit—but Russo’s hits are next-level hard.

Whereas other competitors are looking to win, Russo’s veins are literally filled with ice. He’s always out for blood. If he hasn’t bloodied someone up before the end of the game, he hasn’t succeeded.

In this league, I fear no one. Except Russo. His play scares the shit out of me. I shiver now just thinking about the game tonight, and Kip takes my reaction as a sign he’s found a spot.

“You okay?” He presses a knot in my glutes and I groan, taking a page out of Soren’s book.

“Yeah, right there.”

And he begins to work me over, putting me in a deep trance for the next fifteen minutes.

I haven’t slept this soundly in ages.

14

Karis

I couldn’t sleep last night for a myriad of reasons.

Okay, fine. It was one reason and one reason only. One huge reason with wide shoulders, dark eyes, and kisses that turn me into a babbly mess.

Ballas Keeney.

The man has occupied my thoughts for weeks and now has me so keyed up since last night’s kiss that I can’t think straight.

I’m more than a little frazzled as I pace my office floor, biting my nails as I listen to Charlie, the Pilot’s media relations manager, and Marek tell me something I’d hoped I’d never hear.

Charlie is filling us in on Hammond Greis, a small forward on the team, who was just arrested on charges of battery and assault against his girlfriend and the mother of his child.

My heart aches for the woman and her child, and my anger spikes to an all-time high as I listen to Marek and Charlie’s report on what Greis did. Allegedly did, that is.

Thankfully, there is time to hash out plans and figure out the best way to handle this since the NBA season won’t begin for another six weeks. I’m happy to hear that my staff is on the same page as me and we’ll be taking swift action to handle the repercussions against Hammond.

Even when things are going smoothly, the problem with being an active owner of two teams in two very different leagues is that it’s exhausting and the business is never-ending. Up until now, I think I’ve handled it all pretty well, even when I’m being pulled in two directions. I’ve effectively balanced the time requirements for both teams, as well as the personal obligations related to managing my uncle’s care, even if it means I have no personal life to speak of.

The other unfortunate problem is that I have zero bandwidth to deal with these unexpected curve balls that get thrown my way. It has me wanting to eat a jumbo-sized bag of Skittles while burying my head in the sand.

“Has the team ever encountered something like this in the past?” I ask, continuing to pick at my nail between my teeth as I wear a tread over my carpet. “What protocols are in place? Since it’s in the hands of the law, do we need to speak to the commissioner?”

My morning started out like a dream because I was still floating in a dream-like state from last night’s kiss that left me blissed out from the moment Ballas closed the door to my car and sent me home.

I replayed that kiss all night while I lay awake in a state of sexual awareness, still tingling from the timbre of his low voice and the promise it held. My body yearned for the feel of his warm hands as they cupped my jaw, and the smooth glide and sensual heat of his tongue. I was lost in wanting more of the rough texture of his scruff as they scraped over my lips and over my sensitive skin.

The entire memory had my body prickling with heat until I could no longer stand it. While still in my bed, I slid my hand beneath the sheet and between my thighs, fingers slipping through my wetness as I imagined Ballas’s fingers easing in and out of me instead of my own. I was so wet and turned on it took me less than twenty seconds to push myself to orgasm.

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