Hat Trick (D.C. Stars, #4)

by Chelsea Curto

I wish I had the balls of a mediocre white man who thinks he’s hot shit. I’d be unstoppable.

“I bet I could be your type,” he says in some last-ditch effort to keep me hanging around. “And I bet you couldn’t find my clit even if I pointed it out to you,” I say sweetly, and the bartender snorts. “It’s never going to happen, buddy.”

The life of every party and vivacious as hell with witty comebacks and a laugh that would bring any man to his knees. And if it were me down there, I’d wear a collar and crawl if she asked me to.

Woof

I’m not asking you to give me a mile, Riley. I’m not even asking for a foot.” “I hope not. I only have one now, and it would be pretty fucking rude of you to take that from me.”

If you were a man, I’d laugh and say “no worries.” Since you’re a woman, I’m about to chastise you in front of everyone because no matter how hard you try, it’s not going to be good enough.

“She wasn’t finished speaking,” Riley says, deathly low. The look in his eye is murderous. A shiver races up my spine when he curls his fingers into a fist. My cheeks turn bright red when he stares at my boss and tilts his head to the side. “And her name is Lexi. L-e-x-i. That’s not difficult, is it? Treat her with respect and get it right, or I’m leaving.”

Woof

The romance books I read are right: having a guy turn a little unhinged and defend your honor is sexy as hell.

It’s never good when Coach wants to talk to you, and I think I might be in a shitload of trouble.

“I’m a woman in a male-dominated space. I’m the only female head athletic trainer in the league, and I’m the first to hold the title. Even if I don’t believe I can do it, I say I can. So, no. I haven’t always been this confident, but I’m getting there.”

Women in the past have used all sorts of phrases to describe me: cute. Sexy, but in a nerdy way. Hot as hell when I slide a blindfold over their eyes. The man of their dreams when I kiss their wrists, untying them from the ropes I like to use to keep them still while I eat them out.

We just casually dropping this tidbit?!

Watch the attitude. I’m a persistent motherfucker. Don’t test me.

“I’m leaving. Congrats on the loss,” I say. “Glad to know you all suck without me.”

“We help people because it’s the right thing to do,” Maven says. “Even if they don’t want to be helped, we have to keep showing up for them.”

I’m going to murder Riley Mitchell, and I won’t have any remorse for my crime.

I can assure you that no one on this earth wants to see your balls.

“I didn’t know this was going to turn into a compliment train,” I say. “Flirt with me a little more, Sully.”

There’s nothing I love more than kicking men’s asses and watching them cry.

“Fuck it,” he whispers, kissing me again. “One night. Let’s play, Lexi.”

“I’ve been too busy working with the stubborn hockey player who’s apparently an expert in female anatomy.” “Science was always a favorite subject.”

I’ve been with men who couldn’t get me off even after I walked them through the process step by step, and here comes Riley Mitchell, the quiet NHL player who wears glasses and reads romance novels, who just gave me the best orgasm of my fucking life. That has to be why he knows what he’s doing. I bet he’s the type of guy who uses the books as reference tools. He probably studies them with a highlighter in his mouth so he can pick out the parts he wants to try, the parts he thinks he’d be good at. Unbelievable. Other men should take notes.

“Gonna fucking worship you,”

Swoon

I don’t have to brace myself for the teasing “romance books have no substance, so they don’t count as a real book” that normally follows. God forbid someone likes to pretend they’re in a fictional world where women are treated right and orgasms are plentiful, because no way in hell does that happens in the reality where I’m currently living.

I haven’t known peace in years.

Lot of big words coming from the guy from the Florida education system!!

“Women.” Grant sighs. “So complex. So brilliant. We’re so undeserving.”

Uh oh. Did you get something stuck somewhere it shouldn’t be stuck?

Sometimes it amazes me you’re just out there walking around with the rest of the population, Ethan.

“Everyone thinks I know how to use a drill because I’m a guy, but the thing fucking terrifies me.”

spent weeks wishing I could go back to who I was before the accident,” I start. “My new body didn’t feel right. I wasn’t right, and I was so fucking depressed. But if someone popped out of a time machine right now and offered me the chance to go back to the old Riley, the chance to have my old life back, I wouldn’t take it. I might be down a leg. My spirit might be fucking bloodied and bruised, but look at what I have now: the opportunity to spread awareness about the need for accessible prosthetics for young athletes. The best friends a guy could ask for, who I’m closer with than before. And you. I have you, and that’s the best thing of all.”

“Are you… is this some fucking PhD class on women’s emotional intelligence?” I ask. “When the fuck did you all get so deep and insightful?” “My mama raised me right,” Hudson says. “Women are complicated creatures. They’re not as easy to read, but they’re the only reason any of us are on the paths we’re on right now.”