Page 38 of Offside

“Because it’s easier on me,” she says matter-of-factly, hanging her purse on a hook and removing her shoes to place them on a mat on the floor. She sets my overnight bag down, which she refused to let me carry after we’d packed it up at my condo, and pins me with a stare. “I have my office set up here so I can work while you sleep. I’m also confident that my guest room is clean. Yours might be suspect.”

I try not to snort and scan around the elegantly decorated apartment that was just a short ten-minute drive from the arena. Although I’d have preferred to be in my own bed tonight, I can’t exactly complain with the way Karis jumped in and offered to help me out in my time of need.

How crazy would I have to be to say no to my beautiful boss who invited me to stay at her condo for the next two nights?

My gaze finds the wall-to-wall windows overlooking the city of Vancouver below. I’m acutely reminded of the night we spent together in Vegas when I fucked her up against the windows high above the Strip. There’s also a giant pool table in the back of the room. That doesn’t help in tamping down my desire when now all I can imagine is laying her naked body across the table and sliding into the pocket.

I shoot her an innocent look.

“You mean, I won’t be sleeping with you?” I pause and lift a suggestive brow. “What if I need something in the middle of the night?”

Karis whips her head toward me and her jaw drops incredulously. “Ballas, this isn’t…I wasn’t...you’re not sleeping with me!”

Her panicked expression and high-pitched voice are priceless. A laugh I’ve been holding back bursts from my chest. I may have a head injury but I can still have some flirtatious fun with Karis.

“Oh, princess. You should see your face right now.”

An angry little scowl purses at her lips and she grumbles, lifting my gym bag in her hand before stomping off down a hallway. “Not funny, Ballas. Now take off your shoes and follow me.”

“I can take off my clothes, too.”

She flattens me with a glare and I chuckle, wisely following her orders with no further commentary, and pad down the hallway after her. My eyes sweep in an appreciative gaze over the feminine curves of her hips and ass, which sway in a sexy saunter. She may be wearing a demure pantsuit befitting a wealthy businesswoman, but goddamn if she isn’t a fucking knockout.

My brain may feel muzzy at the moment but that doesn’t stop my fingers from itching with the memories of roaming every inch of her spectacular body. From behind my zipper, my cock begs to do it again.

Shit, this is not how I imagined ending up at Karis’s home for the night. Now both my dick and my head throb, and not a damn thing I can do about it. It’ll be painful trying to remember Karis is off-limits for the next forty-eight hours.

How the hell did I get here with Karis? It was supposed to be a one-night stand, no further complications. Our lives were never supposed to intersect again except through our mutual ties to Marek and Marv.

Yet here we are. Instead of getting less complicated, we continue to be pulled into the same orbit, connected by these strange cosmic circumstances. If you believe in that stuff. Which I don’t. But damned if there’s any logical way to explain why I’m still so attracted to this woman.

Karis opens a door at the end of the long hallway and flips on the light for a large guest room. She steps inside and walks over to the bed.

With efficient movements, she leans over and pulls down the plush comforter, removing the decorative pillows propped at the headboard. Then she turns on the bedside lamp and lets out a satisfied breath.

“Why don’t you get comfortable and I’ll order some food for dinner. Any objections to chicken parm? The Italian eatery at the end of the street is delicious. I’ll bring it in when it arrives.”

My stomach growls at the suggestion. “Nah, that sounds great. Thanks.”

She nods. “Good. And after that it’s doctor’s orders. Dr. Stanley said you should get plenty of rest, so that’s what you’re going to do.”

I chuckle. If there’s one thing I’ve learned tonight about Karis, it’s that she is a rule follower to the nth degree. I can only imagine her when she was in school, enthusiastically raising her hand to answer every question the teacher asked the class and diligently completing her homework for extra credit.

So very unlike me, for sure. All I cared about was playing hockey and pushing myself through to the elite levels to ensure I made the NHL.

Jesus, that was so many years and injuries ago.

Karis has taken everything Dr. Stanley said as gospel. With only one exception—allowing me to gather up some extra underwear, socks, and T-shirts when we swung by my apartment after leaving the arena—she’s done all the heavy lifting. That’s not something I’ve ever allowed a woman to do for me. Admittedly, it’s nice to be taken care of in this way.

Otherwise, she’s played everything by the letter and the rules of post-concussion aftercare. She even snatched away my phone when I tried to check the latest sports news while in the car, not giving me a chance to read the reports about what had happened.

I still have no recollection of the few minutes leading up to my injury beyond Russo’s usual chirping. But everything is blank, so I want to see it play out in the highlights reel, even if it will only make my hatred of Sergei grow stronger.

Karis types away at her phone, presumably ordering the food online, as I pull out clean shorts from my bag and undo my jeans. The snick of the zipper has her head popping up. She blushes as I push them down past my knees.

“Oh, let me give you some privacy,” she mutters, quickly averting her eyes and turning her back to me. I snicker and she snaps her gaze back to mine.

“Nothing new to see here. You’ve seen it all before.”

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