Page 6

It’ll help with more than just releasing my tension—it’ll also help me get over Miss Off-Limits. I need to get her out of my head.
Shaking it with a growl, I grab a towel and try to clamp down the image of her smile and that playful little wink she gave me.
Mr. Attitude.
I snicker, toweling myself off and fighting a grin.
That was so lame.
But she said she’d keep working to come up with a better insult, and now I kind of want to see her again.
No, you don’t, you idiot! Just put her the fuck out of your mind.
By the time I’m dressed and grabbing my keys, I’m determined to have the best night of my fucking life.
My bike races to Offside, the engine roaring beneath me, just the way I love. Parking outside the bar, I’m happy to see that it’s in full swing. Sometimes it’s a little quiet on a Wednesday night. Things heat up as the week progresses, but it seems pretty packed, and that’s just what I need.
I’ll have my choice of chicks to pick from.
Pocketing my keys, I walk straight to the bar, ordering a beer and flashing my ID at the bartender, before spinning around to check out what’s on offer.
There’s a group of girls playing pool, laughing and giggling while sipping on sodas.
Too young. Too innocent. Too wholesome.
I’m not after that shit. I need the exact opposite of what I encountered in the stadium this afternoon.
I need myself a bad girl who doesn’t mind getting down and dirty.
My eyes track to the dance floor. There’s no live band tonight, just a DJ doing his thing. His music selection is shit, and I curl my upper lip, grateful when the beer arrives. I down it quickly and order another.
The faint warnings from my coaches whistle through the back of my mind. I ignore them. I’m not dumb enough to turn up to back-to-back practices hungover. I won’t go crazy tonight. I’ll just have one more after this, and I’ll still be good to get myself home.
What I really need is some sex.
If I can’t get drunk, then I can at least get an adrenaline rush, right?
I’m just collecting my second beer from the bartender when I spot her.
She’s tall with long dark hair. She’s in a miniskirt that only just covers her ass and a tank top that’s so short, I can see the bottom of her bra.
But the best thing about her… are those hungry-looking eyes.
She stares at me from the other end of the bar, practically begging me to fuck her.
Is that an arrogant assumption? Maybe.
But damn, she’s like a fucking siren. When her lips rise on the left, I leave my post, heading toward her with my ice-cold bottle of beer.
“Hey.” I lean my elbow against the counter.
“Hey, McAvoy.”
“So we know each other.” I wink and grin, hoping my charming smile is forgivable. Shit. I don’t remember her at all.
She laughs, downing her shot and smiling at me. “You were pretty plastered last time but still managed to get it up. How drunk are you tonight?”
“Not even slightly buzzed.” I raise the beer bottle. “This is only my second.”