Three people. Three motives. Three reasons.
When the game leaves the field in the second book in the USA Today bestselling BY HIS GAME series and mixes with sex, lies, and betrayal, the future isn’t the only thing on the line…
Macey Kelly has sworn off men. Unless they’re going to zip in and out of her apartment—and her vagina—quicker than they can give her an orgasm, she’s not interested. Finding out her boyfriend of three years got her cousin pregnant was a total confidence knock. Luckily for Macey, confidence is
something she has in abundance, so all Mitch’s asshole move did was make her pretty cynical toward men.
The last thing Jack Carr needs at the start of the season is for a dark-haired, sexy as sin, gyspyesque beauty to be consuming his thoughts. Football is his life, which leaves no time for girls. Unless they’re the love ‘em and leave ‘em girls. Becoming one of the best running backs the league has ever seen by racking up the yards is his top priority… not bedding Macey Kelly, despite her affinity for blow jobs and total sexual abandon.
Avoiding each other is the perfect solution, but when your best friends are in a serious living together kind of relationship, that isn’t always an option. Sometimes, sex on tap is the easiest option. And the sweetest.
Until Mitch shows up with a bombshell that could shatter Macey’s perfectly carved out life. It’s been a year, but he isn’t giving her up, not now he has a chance at winning her back. And he knows her buttons. Every single one of them.
Unfortunately for him, Jack Carr isn’t a loser. The star running back has his eye on the Vince Lombardi—and on Macey. But seeing her hanging between them both isn’t something he’s down with, not when he discovers why she’s so against anything more-ish, as she puts it.Macey quickly realizes she’s the ball being passed between two desperate yet opposing teams, and that only one of them can score the touchdown. But will the winner be the guy she lived with and loved for three years, or will the winner be the guy who understands her and makes her body come alive?
In this game, someone will be sidelined, and calling the play isn’t always as easy as it seems.
(SIDELINED is a full-length, standalone novel. It’s not necessary to read BLINDSIDED before this book, but it is advised.)
“Put the drink down, M,” he whispers. “It’s fucking with you.”
“Really? I thought that was you fucking with me,” I respond, turning to him and pressing a hand against his chest. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Like, right here. Literally.
“It’s my best friend’s birthday.” He smirks. “Why’ve you been staring at me all night like you wanna suck and bite my cock simultaneously?”
“I assure you it was the latter.”
“Sure it was.” Jack steps into me again, and I grab my glass with the hand closest to him so I don’t grab his ass or something, ‘cause, shit. He’s got a sweet as hell ass.
“It was.” I drink. Again. Where the hell are my girls? “I feel like dancing.” I finish the glass and twist my body away from his.
His hand finally falls from me as I stalk toward and down the stairs. I slip into the moving crowd, but
I’ve barely moved my hips when two large, strong hands clasp me and tug me backward. The wall of muscle my back slams into is solid, and I exhale on a whoosh, even as I close my fingers against the ones clasping my hips.
“Nice try, baby,” Jack says into my ear. “Run if you want. I’m a running back. I’ll chase you and catch you every fuckin’ time.”
“Sounds like a promise you can’t keep, doll,” I reply, my breath catching when he moves my hips against his.
“Sounds like a promise you’re afraid of.”
I laugh and shove his hands away from me. I turn to face him. Even in the darkness, his eyes blaze bright green, so fucking bright they’re close to blinding me every time the strobe lighting coasts across his face. And, shit, it does it so many times, and every time, it illuminates every line and curve of his perfectly sculpted jaw.
“You wish, Jack Carr. You fucking wish.”
His hands snatch mine and he pulls me through the crowd. I fight his hold, but his grip is too tight.
My heart pounds as he drags me through the hall with certainty, and in two minutes, I find myself pressed against his goddamn car in the parking lot.
“What the fuck?” I shout, shoving at him.
He grabs my hands once more and pins them over my head, effectively bending me backward on the hood of his SUV. “What the fuck?” he replies, leaning into me, his voice low. “Is that hard or soft, quick or slow, deep or shallow? ‘Cause baby, I can fuck you all six of those ways in one go.”
“None of them,” I snap. “What the fuck, as in, what the fuck, asshole?”
“Oh, that what the fuck.” He bends forward a little more. Until his mouth is against my ear and his hard body is pressed right up against mine. “Maybe it’s the what the fuck I felt when I felt your eyes on me all night. Maybe it’s the what the fuck I felt when you looked at me like you wanted to fuck me one minute, then the next, slice my balls in two. Maybe it’s the what the fuck you’ve got in your eyes while you let me lie my body over yours in a motherfucking parking lot seconds after I ask you how you want to be fucked tonight.”
“I don’t want to be fucked,” I reply, doing my best to slam my hands into his hood. I fail—shit, he’s so fucking strong I can’t even twist my hands in his grip.
“Baby, your body says otherwise.”
“My body is an impulsive fuckwit.”
“Your body knows me.”
“Again, my body is an impulsive fuckwit.”
“You never did say.” He breathes against my jaw and brushes his lips against my skin. “How do you want to be fucked?”
He tilts his face into my neck and kisses. Oh, hell, he kisses my neck, right beneath my jaw, where my chin meets my neck, and I pause. I inhale sharply.
“Get in the goddamn car,” he orders, releasing me.
“Excuse me?” I push up and stare at him.
“Get in the goddamn car,” he repeats, pulling open his door and staring me. “Or have I gotta throw you into it?”
“I am not getting into your car!”
He slams his door shuts and rounds on me. I step backward, but he’s too quick, and he wraps an arm around my waist. My body slams into his yet again as he opens the passenger side door of his SUV and throws me into it.
“Get. In. The. Goddamn. Car.”
“This is kidnap!”
He slams my door, and I both see and hear him laughing as he walks to the driver’s side. “Sure it is, baby. I’m startin’ the engine now, so you got ten seconds to get the hell out before I drive. One… two…”
By day, New York Times and USA Today bestselling New Adult author Emma Hart dons a cape and calls herself Super Mum to two beautiful little monsters. By night, she drops the cape, pours a glass of whatever she fancies – usually wine – and writes books.
Emma is working on Top Secret projects she will share with her followers and fans at every available opportunity. Naturally, all Top Secret projects involve a dashingly hot guy who likes to forget to wear a shirt, a sprinkling (or several) of hold-onto-your-panties hot scenes, and a whole lotta love.
She likes to be busy – unless busy involves doing the dishes, but that seems to be when all the ideas come to life.