Page 3 of The False Start (Off the Bench)

Chapter Two

CAL

S he walks away, disappearing into the crowded dance floor, Katie trailing after her.

My body burns where she brushed past me.

Theo looks at me with one eyebrow raised, a shit-eating grin splitting his face.

I don’t smile at him. She’s hot, sure, and clearly likes to play, but there’s something else I can’t put my finger on.

Maybe it’s that she’s exactly my type, with her long, honey blonde hair and big brown eyes, or it’s the way she drew and kept my attention the entire time I’ve been in the same room with her.

It was like she was the sun and I, a mere mortal, couldn’t help but be drawn into her orbit.

If Theo would’ve told me all of that about his new friend Lila Summers, I might have made more of an effort to visit over the last few years.

And she walked away. Something in my chest hums in approval, both excited for the challenge and relieved she isn’t just another jersey chaser.

“Hey, Basset. Good game last weekend,” a sandy-haired man says to me, punching me lightly in the arm.

“Thanks, man,” I say with a nod.

“I know how tough it can be getting traded mid-season, but you kept up, which is more than I can say for myself.” He laughs wistfully, shaking his head.

Who is this guy? Not a teammate, I can tell that much. He’s a good bit shorter than I am and has a build like Theo. His eyes give me pause though. I could swear I’ve seen them before, an electric blue like that would be hard to forget.

“Aaron Byron. I’m not sure we’ve officially met.” The name clicks into place in my mind as I shake his outstretched hand. Aaron Byron, third baseman for the Hail, Chicago’s professional baseball team, traded mid-season last year from New York for a couple draft picks.

“I’m surprised we’ve never crossed paths in New York,” I say. He shrugs, unbothered, and pours himself a drink from the bottles on the table, holding it up in offering.

I take the whiskey bottle and pour a healthy measure into a fresh glass for myself. “So, how have you been adjusting to the city so far?”

“It’s not bad,” he says. “I had a bit of a rough season last year, so I didn’t go out much, but this one’s been looking up, so it’s been good. You know how it goes.”

I did at that. When you were winning, when you had good stats, the city was your oyster. When you weren’t, well, it was better to be almost anywhere else.

I open my mouth to agree, when a hurricane of a person bursts into the VIP area once more.

Katie Chen walks right up to the table, pouring herself a drink from the bottle of vodka before adding a splash of soda water.

“Having fun out there?” Theo asks her with a wink. She gives him a sly smile in return.

“Lila needs a drink. Cal, why don’t you bring it to her? I want to sit down for a minute.”

“Uh.” I pause. “Okay, what does she want?”

“She’s easy. Just surprise her,” Katie responds. I narrow my eyes at her. Lila may be a lot of things, but easy didn’t strike me as being at the top of that list.

She meets my gaze with a bored expression, and I sigh, mixing together vodka and cranberry juice, because what girl doesn’t like a vodka cran? Barney Stinson was right on that at least.

Hands full with both drinks, I look out at the dance floor. “Where is she?” I ask Katie.

She points to a lone woman dancing in a red spotlight in the center of the club. My mouth goes slightly dry as her body moves to the beat of the song.

“Get out there, big boy. She’s waiting.” Theo gives me a small shove, and Aaron laughs. I shoot him a glare but follow his irritating instructions, weaving through the dance floor toward her, moving slowly with the crowd of drunk dancers.

She comes into view, and I almost turn back.

She’s found a partner to dance with. He’s tall, almost as tall as I am, and holding her close, his hands exploring her body in a way that should be considered indecent in public.

I watch for a moment longer, just to convince myself she’s alright when I see her pull away, creating some distance between their bodies.

The man pulls her back toward him as his hands move up to brush her breasts, his face smug knowing he has the upper hand and she’s alone, and I’m contemplating which drink to drop so I can hit him right in his smug face.

Mine obviously.

I’m almost there, when she wrenches out of his grasp and lurches forward straight into my chest.

My hands are still full, so I can’t reach out and catch her, but my body, conditioned to take hits from people bigger and moving faster than she is, weathers the blow, even as it knocks the breath from my lungs.

I grunt at the impact as she tangles her hands in my shirt to pull herself up and find her footing.

My chest warms where she touches me, her fingers lingering over my pectorals.

I try to not be too obvious and flex slightly, telling myself it will help stabilize us both, even as I note she’s clearly fine and standing on her own two feet.

I glance around, looking for the man, but he’s slipped into the throng of people around us.

I grasp for something to say as I stare down at her. Remembering the extra drink in my hand, I hold it up. “Katie asked me to bring you this.”

She looks at the drink with suspicion. “What is it?”

“Vodka cran.” I shrug. “Seemed like a safe bet.”

She hesitates, and I wonder if she doesn’t like cranberry juice. Her eyes flit around the floor, and I realize with horror why she’s nervous.

“Here,” I say and take a sip of the drink, “not drugged, I promise.” I wink, trying to dissolve the strange tension that’s formed.

She laughs and takes the drink. “Thanks.”

“Are you okay? That looked uhm?—”

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Just another washed up wannabe who thinks he’s God’s gift to women.” She shrugs, and I’m at a complete loss of what to say to that absolute blasé response.

We stand somewhat awkwardly in the middle of the crowd, people dancing around us as we sip our drinks in silence. I have a hard time not watching her mouth as it closes around the lip of the glass.

I’m just about to suggest we head back to the table with the others when an old school song starts, and Lila’s face lights up with the power of a thousand suns.

“I love this song,” she shouts over the music. I’m still trying to figure out what song this could possibly be when she giggles, tossing back the rest of her drink, handing the empty glass back to me and starts to sway with renewed vigor.

It clicks when the crowd starts chanting along. Sweet Caroline.

“So good! So good! So good!” Lila shouts with the crowd around us. I’m standing there like an idiot watching her dance, but she looks so happy I can’t stop staring.

The music shifts back into a more electronic beat, and Lila grabs my shoulder. “Dance with me.”

Her intense gaze is locked on my face, her hand still on my shoulder as I survey her, but one look in her eyes and I’m draining the last drops of whiskey left in my glass.

Setting both empty cups on a nearby high-top, I give her one last moment to take it back.

She doesn’t lower her gaze, and I have my answer.

I grab her hips, spinning her back against me just as she was minutes ago with another man.

The competitive drive in me pushing me to make it good enough so that she forgets she was dancing with anyone else tonight.

We dance for hours or only minutes. Time is meaningless when her body is pressed against mine like this. I hold her to me, one hand wrapped around her waist, and I can feel every roll of her hips from both sides.

She rests her head back against my shoulder, and I slide my free hand up her side wanting to cup her face, but it’s a mistake.

My thumb scrapes against her pulse point and she shudders against me, her hand reaching up to run through my hair, pulling my face toward her neck.

I can’t help but groan, my hand coming to rest along her collarbone, much too close to where I want it to be as my body heats.

My blood rushes south, and I quickly step around her as the song transitions, bringing us face to face so she doesn’t feel what she just did to me.

I can’t help but touch her as we dance, her eyes closed in ecstasy as I run my hands over the sides of her torso, skimming close to her tits but no further. She allows it, and I take no additional liberties but make small circles over her ribs with my thumbs as I grip her waist.

She finally opens her eyes and meets my gaze, and it takes my breath away. Her eyes are heady, pupils dark with want, her breath sharp as her eyes flit down to my mouth and back up. Fuck, does she want me to kiss her?

Do I want to kiss her?

I think I want to do a lot more than kiss her.

The song changes again and Get Low comes on. Great, exactly what I need, a song about grinding while I’m trying not to come in my pants.

Lila doesn’t care about my self-control, the heady look disappearing from her eyes and a smirk playing upon her lips as she drops into a crouch in front of me, her face level with my dick.

Fuck .

She looks up at me, and all I can picture is that mouth doing something else and frantically try to think of something else.

She drags her hands up my thighs, so close to where I need her to touch, her nails scraping against my torso as she rises back up to standing. She’s closer than before, her arms coming up to my shoulders and her hands tugging on the hair on the back of my neck.

I can’t help it. I grasp her hips, pulling her flush against me as I slide my leg between hers. Some part of me knows I can’t take her right now, even if we find a bathroom or a hallway. But she can ride my thigh as we dance. She can know how good I could make her feel if she’ll let me.

She grinds down, and I press my forehead to hers as the song ends.

She’s staring at my mouth, and I lean in.