Offside: Rules of the Game Book 1

Bailey curled up against my chest as we lay in my bed, watching an NHL game. We chatted idly, only half following the game as neither of us was particularly invested in the teams playing. As far as a weekday evening went, it was pretty perfect. Except for one thing: the conversation we needed to have.

The sure to be difficult, guaranteed to be uncomfortable, hopefully not disastrous conversation.

Maybe it was too soon to talk about this, but it would weigh on my conscience until we did. And I refused to do it the night we went out for dinner, potentially fucking up her birthday twice in one year.

The whole situation made me furious. I literally treated one-night stands and casual hookups better than Morrison had treated his own girlfriend. It was wrong on every level.

Here goes nothing.

BAILEY

Chase picked up the remote, turning down the volume on the TV. “Hey, James?” He shifted to look at me and studied my face, voice low. “How much do you remember from our walk from XS to my place?”

“Not a lot,” I said, shaking my head. “I remember getting sick. Vaguely. That’s about it. Why?”

His brows knit together. “Because you told me something that night, and I don’t think you remember.”

Alarms went off in my head, complete with blaring sirens and flashing red lights. I was certain the gist of this conversation was: he didn’t like me anymore because of it, and now he was ready to end things between us. Already.

Cue maximum panic mode.

I scrambled to sit upright. “You’re bringing this up now? That was ages ago.”

“I held off because it was something personal,” he said. “I didn’t want you to think I was teasing you or being a dick. But with the way things have changed between us, it feels wrong for me to know this when you don’t know that I know.”

My breath snagged, heart pole-vaulting into my throat.

No.

I didn’t. I couldn’t have. I wouldn’t have.

“What did I say to you?” I whispered, panic winding up my neck like a vise. “Tell me, please.”

“You told me that Morrison sucked in bed.” Chase paused, uncharacteristically hesitant. Time slowed as I held my breath, waiting for him to continue. “Specifically, that he didn’t go down, and that you faked it with him on the regular.”

Just like that, my dignity evaporated into thin air. Not even my closest friends knew that second one, and I’d told Chase the night I met him? Good lord. And it was infinitely more humiliating given how much more experienced he was than me.

“Okay.” I wriggled out of his embrace, slid out of bed, and stood up. “If you need me, I’ll be at home dying of embarrassment. Tell my parents to get a nice headstone. Gray marble, something like that.”

“Wait. Can we talk about this, please?” He reached over and gently grabbed my hand.

Humiliation simmered in my gut, caustic and searing, threatening to boil over. I spun around to face him, cheeks scorching. “Why do you even like me if you know this?”

“What?” Hurt flashed across his face, and his lips tugged into a frown. “I like you for a million reasons, and none of them have to do with sex.”

“That’s a relief,” I said, “because I seem to be defective in that department.”

Chase tugged my hand, pulling me to sit beside him. He rubbed my skin with his thumb, making slow, smooth strokes. “You’re not defective.”

“Sure feels like it.” My voice cracked, and I drew in a jagged breath, trying to quell the sob lurking in my throat. The only thing more embarrassing than this would be ugly crying in front of him.

“Oh man.” He sighed, dropping his head to his hands. Seconds ticked by as his back moved up and down with long, smooth inhalations and exhalations. His hands fell to his sides as he lifted his chin. “I’m an asshole. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ve been thinking about how to talk to you about this for a while now because I didn’t want to fuck it up.”

“You didn’t,” I said, fighting back a wave of tears. “It’s fine.”

Somehow, I felt bad that he felt bad. Which only compounded my overall distress. A complicated mix of shame, sadness, regret, and fear swirled within me.

And maybe, just maybe, a tiny bit of relief.

“James.” Chase angled himself to face me. He took my hands in his, which were warm, slightly callused, and comforting. “I’m not judging you. I promise.”

I looked at our hands, avoiding his eyes. “You should be.”

“Trust me, you’re not the one I’m judging in this situation.”

“I honestly want to die right now,” I said, shaking my head as I stared at the textured gray comforter. “I can’t overstate that enough. No one knows that. I can’t believe I told you.”

“No, I’m glad you did. I don’t want you to feel like you need to fake anything with me.” He leaned closer, brushing a stray piece of hair out of my face. “If something I’m doing isn’t working, I’d rather know. That’s why I wanted to talk about this.”

“To talk about how I’m broken, you mean?”

“You’re not broken,” he said softly. “Lots of girls can’t come from penetration alone. It’s pretty common. Normal.”

In theory, I knew this. The internet and women’s magazines said as much. But it didn’t make me feel less inadequate, like I was faulty—or like certain parts of me were, at least.

Chase scanned my face, dark eyes patient as he waited for a response.

I didn’t know what to say, so I shrugged. “Okay.”

“It could be what the other person was doing.” He raised his eyebrows, speaking carefully. “Or not doing…Or not doing properly.”

“I don’t know.” As much as I liked the idea of throwing Luke under the bus, I was pretty sure there was something wrong with me. I drew in a breath and held it until my lungs felt like they were going to explode. “It’s just really hard to get me off.”

“I’m up for the challenge.” He grinned. “Literally.”

A sad half laugh escaped from the back of my throat. He was too smooth for my own good. Even when I felt like hiding under a rock permanently.

“I mean, I can…” I fumbled, searching my brain for a way to explain without delving into uncomfortable details. “I’m sorry. This is hard to talk about without bringing Luke into it.” Luke would sulk afterward if I didn’t have an orgasm—as if that was going to somehow help it along. Though the fact that I faked it so often had some disturbing implications. Either Luke never noticed or, worse still, he knew and didn’t care.

“It’s okay,” Chase said. “You can talk about him.”

“He would complain because only certain positions would do it for me, or I took too long. Sometimes it was easier to let him think I had.” And now I’d shared the most intimate details of my former relationship with Chase, things even Zara and Noelle weren’t privy to. Great.

“He did what?” His brows snapped together. “What kind of sorry excuse for an athlete is he? Fucking dick.” His jaw ticked, and he exhaled heavily, shaking his head. “Sorry. It just pisses me off to know you were treated like that.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I think it’s a me problem.” It had to be when it was that elusive and difficult to reach. There were maybe two things that worked—some of the time—and that was it. Even then, it was about as reliable as a rain dance.

“Not even a little.” He smoothed my hair away from my face.

I sucked in a shaky breath. “Agree to disagree.”

“Not on this one. Morrison is a fucking idiot. Full stop. It’s the eleventh commandment.”

This time, I laughed for real. He leaned in, brushing his lips against mine. The tension in my body loosened as I returned the kiss, lips opening against his. He pushed inside my mouth, but it was tender, gentle. As we pulled apart, he wrapped his hands around my waist, pulling me closer to him.

“You’re not a means to an end, James.”

The urge to cry returned, and I swallowed hard, nodding wordlessly.

Chase tipped forward, his lips grazing along the curve of my neck, which was a welcome distraction.

“Plus, the idea of getting you off is so fucking hot,” he murmured.

“Really?” It was hard to wrap my mind around that. Sex had always seemed like it was more about pleasing the guy.

“Hell yeah.” His gaze met mine, and he bit his bottom lip, nodding. “Do you know how many times I’ve thought about that?”

“No idea.”

“A lot.” Chase’s eyes danced.

“Ah, so you do have a dirty mind.”

“Dirty for you.”

I laughed and shook my head.

He picked me up and moved both of us back until we were propped against the headboard . “Can we talk about this a little more? Or are you too uncomfortable?”

“Yes and yes.” I grimaced. “I’ll try.”

“Just to clarify,” he said, “you have had an orgasm before. So you can.”

“Right. It’s really hit or miss. Heavy on the miss.” My cheeks flared with heat, and I worked overtime to maintain eye contact with him.

“Then it’s a matter of finding what works. Some of that is trial and error. But if you fake it, I won’t know what works.”

Fair point. But there had been so much pressure to live up to some imaginary standard where orgasms came freely and easily during sex no matter what the position, speed, or angle. In reality, it was like trying to spot a freaking unicorn that only appeared in the woods twice a year between 8:00 and 8:05 p.m. when the moon was full. Theoretically possible, but incredibly rare.

“I guess that makes sense.”

“Do you know what works? Like, is it hit or miss even when you’re alone?” he asked carefully.

Oh my god. Speaking of wanting to die. Another swell of humiliation crashed over me, and I looked away, gaze dropping to the comforter again. “We are not talking about that.”

“Okay,” he said. “We don’t have to.” He fell quiet, stroking my hair. But we’d gone this far, so I guess nothing was too personal anymore. What did I have to lose?

I sighed. “Yes, even alone.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, rumbling low in his chest. “Have you tried a vibrator?”

“What?” I squeaked, eyes snapping back up to his.

“Like a sex toy,” he said. “It might help.”

“During sex or alone?” I cringed. Surely, I had used up all nine of my lives by now. It would be a great time for a sinkhole to open and swallow me up.

He shrugged. “Either.”

Luke’s ego—and male parts—would have deflated faster than a slapshot if I had suggested using a vibrator. Hell, he would have freaked out if I’d even owned a sex toy, which was one reason I didn’t. The other being that I was kind of intimidated by the idea.

“Don’t most guys have a problem with that?”

“No,” he said, perfectly straight-faced. “Why would they?”

Sometimes Chase forgot that not everyone had the titanium self-assuredness he had been blessed with. Particularly when it came to their manhood. But he had BDE for a reason. Nothing fazed him. Case in point, this entire discussion.

“I don’t know.” I chewed my bottom lip. “I guess I thought it might make them feel threatened.”

“Baby, I can do all kinds of things to you that a little toy can’t.” He gave me a mischievous smile that, despite the situation, had its intended effect. Something inside me really, really wanted to find out what those things were.

“I bet,” I said, suddenly a little breathless.

“But in this case, it might help you get over the hump, so to speak. Especially alone.”

“Hump? That was the worst pun ever.” I groaned, flopping back onto the bed and staring up at the ceiling.

“I know, right?” Chase leaned on his elbow beside me. He traced a finger along my ribcage, down to my hip. “Look, it’s just a theory. But being more comfortable with your body alone might help you be more comfortable with your body with me. Does that track? You can tell me if you think I’m wrong.”

“No.” I sighed. “It does.”

“You still haven’t answered my other question.” He ducked his head, catching my eye. “Have you?”

I covered my face with my hands. “What do you think?”

“Oh, I think we should go shopping.” He grinned.

“Shopping?”

“Yeah,” he said. “You know, pick up a little something for you.”

“I don’t know.” I crinkled my nose. “The idea of a sex toy seems so freaky.”

“It’s okay to be a little freaky. You can be freaky with me.”

I pressed my lips into a line for a minute, considering. “Fine. I’ll be open-minded.”

“Good,” he said, holding eye contact. “And as far as you and I go, I’m in this for you. I want to make you feel good. Remember that, okay? You can trust me.”

“I know.” Somehow, I did.