The Wrong Game (Love of the Game, #1)

by Kandi Steiner

Death has a funny way of putting life into perspective for us.

To preserve control over my future, over my heart, my soul, my well-being, over the life I would lead after my husband — I had to eliminate the factors that were uncontrollable. It was just that simple. And right there, in that first-row pew, with my dead, cheating husband’s mother’s hand in mine, I made one simple plan, with one simple rule. Never fall in love again. It was more than just a plan, more than just a goal. It was a promise. And it was one I vowed to keep.

He’d only just learned my name, but the way he looked at me? It was as if he knew everything — maybe even more than I knew, myself.

I wondered who, if anyone, got to kiss those plump, burgundy lips of hers. And more than anything, I wondered what the hell I could say to her to get her to see me — really see me — before she walked out of that bar.

I saw it, what her friend didn’t. Gemma didn’t want some random guy touching her. She wanted the guy touching her — the guy who turns her on, the guy who makes her feel safe, and comfortable.

I am in control, I repeated, and then, I smiled. Because with those words? All the nerves were gone. And the game had just begun.

For the longest second, his eyes held mine, and warmth crept up my neck at the way he looked at me. It was as if those eyes knew me, like we were playing a game and he was three moves ahead. I wanted to know more about him. I wanted to know everything.

I’m just laughing because I’m having fun, and because you’re the most interesting, unique, and adorable woman I’ve ever met.”

All I could do was stare at the man who still had his hand on my knee, wondering where he came from, and what he saw that I didn’t. Then, I mentally started a brand-new list. Things I Like About Zach Bowen.

here I was, less than three hours into my first night with Gemma Mancini, and suddenly, I got it. Not that I wanted to marry the girl — I wasn’t that crazy. At least, not admittedly so. But there was just… something about her. I couldn’t take my eyes off her,

No, I didn’t want to go out and buy a ring, but one thing was certain. I wanted more.

The way she was looking at me, I wanted her to watch me all night long. I wanted those eyes on me when the final whistle blew, when the door to her house closed behind us, when that tight, burnt-orange tank top was on her floor and those long, tan legs were hooked over my shoulders.

Time morphed, the roaring crowd around us dulled to something more of a distant whisper. The announcer went on, the celebration continued, but in that moment, all we could do was stand still. And I felt it again. I didn’t know what it was, what to call it, how to name it and classify it and file it away. I only knew it was something. Something different. Something more.

From what she’d told me earlier in the night, she was a woman of control. So, I let her think, let her make her lists and her plans. She didn’t have to know that all that would go out the window the second I had her naked.

as much as I wanted to bury myself so deep inside her I’d need a map to find my way out, I knew I couldn’t. Not yet. Not tonight. Gemma was nervous. She was feeling her way through dating for the first time in who knew how long. I didn’t know if she’d been wrapped up in work, if someone had broken her heart, if she’d been in a long-term relationship or never had a boyfriend in her life. All I did know was she was one of the most beautiful, most unique women I’d ever met in my life. And I wanted to make her feel good.

I leaned down, pressing my lips to hers and holding that kiss for as long as she’d let me. I wasn’t ready to leave. I wasn’t ready to let her go. I knew she had a plan. I knew what I signed up for. But now that I’d spent a night with her, now that I’d had a taste, I couldn’t just walk away.

There was a touch of something there… something she’d been hiding all night. It was in the bend of her brows, in the slump of her shoulders, in the pull of her mouth to one side. She’d been hurt. God, how I wanted to kill whoever hurt her.

He said he wanted last night to be for me, that I should be selfish — and I listened. Because when was the last time anyone had told me that that was okay? When was the last time — or hell, the first time — I’d ever thought of me? Of only me? It was like without asking a single question, without hearing a single story about my life, Zach understood me. All he had to do was look at me, and he got it. I’d never known that level of understanding.

He was the first guy I’d taken to a game, my practice round, and already, I felt myself slipping into those forbidden feelings. It was easy to fall in love. It was harder to climb out of

I’d gotten what I wanted. Zach was gone, practice round achieved, and now — it was game time. For real. Ready, or not. And I was definitely not.

I knew it was stupid. I knew it had the potential to blow up in my face. But none of that mattered, because the one thing I knew more than anything was that I wasn’t ready to let Gemma go.

I’d only had one night with her but I felt that kind of possessiveness, anyway. I wasn’t done with Gemma. I was far from it. And maybe she didn’t want to admit it, but she was far from done with me, too.

I didn’t want to fall in love. I didn’t need a man to survive. But, I missed that human connection. I missed flirting, and talking, and having someone to watch the game with who actually cared about football. I missed the feel of a man’s hands on my body, of his lips on my skin.

my fingertips floated over my lips — lips that Zach had just kissed like he owned, like they weren’t even mine to offer to anyone else.

Nothing worth having ever came easy, that was something I learned at a young age. I never expected Gemma to cave fast, to give into me without fighting back. If anything, I loved that she had her plans, her list-filled goals she wanted to stick to. It was part of what made her unique.

every bone in my body ached for me to chase after her. But, I was a patient man, and I’d played football long enough to know you never spent all your energy in the first quarter. There was still plenty of game to play. And when the ball was in my hands again, I’d be ready.

I smiled, just like I did every time he texted me. I hated that I smiled, because there were about a million neon signs hanging above Zach’s head, warning me to steer clear. He was just the kind of guy I could fall for, the kind I could let in, get close to.

I couldn’t help but be drawn to the comfort I felt when I was with him. Even when he infuriated me, showing up at that game in the seat next to mine, he still somehow managed to make me feel safe when he was around. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone made me feel that way.

there was more to her than just her love for football and her adorable sense of humor. Under that smile, under those eyes, she had a story. And I wanted to read it.

still doesn’t mean I’ve never been in this bar before the night we met.” “You haven’t,” I said, this time leaning over the bar on both elbows. I leveled my gaze with hers, my focus slipping to her ruby-painted lips briefly before we locked eyes again. “I know, because there’s no way in hell I wouldn’t have noticed if you had walked through those doors.” I shook my head, grinning. “Just like I can’t forget you ever since the night you did.”

I just swept up the shattered glass, wondering how I’d gotten so caught up in a woman who couldn’t care less about me, wondering how a night could do such a one-eighty in such a short amount of time. Maybe Gemma wasn’t different at all. Maybe she was just like everyone else. And maybe, though it stung my chest like a branding iron, I needed to do just what she wanted me to. I needed to let her go.

The thought that I could be just friends with that woman was ludicrous, and yet somehow, I knew I’d take the torture. I knew I’d go to that game tomorrow and sit beside her, and try to be around her in whatever capacity she’d let me — simply because I wanted her that bad. Fucking pathetic.

“You’re a good guy. You’re a fighter. No one has ever fought for Gemma in her life.” She paused. “And she’s the kind of girl who deserves to be fought for.”

That little thread of hope was enough to make me smile. I felt it when Gemma looked at me, when she blushed any time I touched her, but her words and actions at the bar Monday night made me question everything. She was like a Rubik’s Cube in a blind man’s hand — impossible to figure out. And yet I was the blind man determined to try.

It wasn’t my favorite way to tackle things, but it was my last-ditch effort to win over Gemma Mancini, and that meant it was all or nothing. Game time.

I wanted him to kiss me — that first night, that next game, Monday night. Now. I wanted him to kiss me. And I hated that I could never hide that from him.

“You’ll never know what happiness you could have with him if you don’t take the risk of being hurt, Gemma.”

“The way I make you feel, huh?” he asked. “And how’s that?” I blew out a breath. “Like I’m dancing on top of the world and falling off of it into a dark oblivion all at once.”

“I don’t know what I have to give, or how crazy I’ll be while I try to figure it out, but…” I shrugged. “I do like you, Zach. And I don’t want to be friends.” I paused. “I don’t want to be just friends.”

I was still petrified as we stood there, kissing in a crowd full of football fans, but it was a different kind of fear. It was the kind that came with taking a risk instead of avoiding one, and the kind that was as exciting as it was terrifying. I didn’t know what would happen next. I had no guarantee I wouldn’t be hurt. And, honestly, I had no idea what I could give, what I could let go of. But I knew I wanted to try.

I had surrendered to my feelings for him, backing down on a plan I was so hell bent on sticking with. And now, I was no longer in control. That both excited and terrified me.

Zach commanded my attention simply by standing there behind me, tall and confident, and it was then that I realized. I’d given the control to him. And somewhere, deep down beneath my anxiety and fear — I liked that.

when Zach touched me, he sucked every ounce of control out of me like a god taking my soul. When his hands were on me, I was his — his to own, his to do with what he wanted. I never knew the kind of pleasure that could come from letting go.

The way he touched me wasn’t timid or nervous, it wasn’t hesitant or unsure. He touched me like I’d only been his to touch, like I was born for this, for him — and now that he had me, he knew exactly what to do, from years and years of wanting. Of waiting.

I was okay. I was safe. I was in control, and so was Zach. And as scary as it was, in that moment, I trusted him.

It had been over a decade since that relationship ended, and yet still, the scars from that girl remained. That was how powerful love was. It could save you, could help you live for the first time, see the world in a new way — but it could also knock you to the ground, the force so blunt you never forget the way it felt to fall.

Failed love built walls, but it was our choice whether we decided to hide behind them, or sit on top of them, waiting for someone to come along who could knock them down.

Zach made me feel safe, he made me feel comfortable. It was like he knew all my biggest fears and how to handle them before I’d even told him.

Maybe all that mattered was that right now, in this moment, in this blissful morning, I was happy. And I hadn’t been that way in a long, long time.

Something I learned maybe well before I was supposed to is that trying to be what other people think you should be is a waste of time. Life is too short to be or do or say anything other than exactly what you want. And in the end, no one’s judgment matters, because it’s your life you’re living.” Micah’s shoulders lifted again. “Not theirs.”