The Beautiful Game (Man of the Match Book 1)

by A. Meredith Walters

  “I am an American,” I reminded him, getting annoyed. The room was starting to tilt. How many drinks had I had? I lost count at four. Shit.

  I wasn’t a boozer. A glass of Merlot was enough to make me giggly. Multiple mixed drinks would have me face first on the floor.

  I needed to get home before I made an ass of myself.

  Had I already made an ass of myself?

  At that moment I didn’t really care.

  Libby and Clara were still talking about the soccer—sorry, football—players and how they were going to talk to them.

  “Leave them alone. They have enough of a fan club up there as it is,” Andrew scolded them, though he seemed just as excited as the rest of them at the appearance of the celebrities.

  “Um, I think I need to go to the bathroom,” I mumbled, though no one heard me. I took deep breaths.

  I will not throw up. I will not throw up.

  “I’m sure at least one of them will talk to me. I’m wearing my slut shirt. It’s an instant footballer magnet,” Clara announced, fluffing her hair and pulling her shirt down to expose an unnecessary amount of cleavage. The men at the table were all but salivating at the excess of skin.

  “Take Morgan with you! She’s got that yummy American thing going on,” Hayley suggested, giving me a shove, which wasn’t good for my already rolling stomach.

  Clara gave me a once over and frowned. “No, I don’t think so,” she snipped. I was too drunk to take offense.

  “You worried someone else would get the attention?” Hayley teased, with a bit of a bite to her words.

  Clara huffed and stuck out her chest. “I don’t think so.” Libby and Hayley rolled their eyes. I propped myself against the wall and took another drink of water.

  “I think Morgan’s good here with me— with us,” Phil corrected, giving me a smile that was probably meant to be seductive. Too bad I was seeing two of him. He frowned. “You do look a little sick. I can take you home—”

  “No!” I shouted. Everyone looked at me in surprise and I realized how loud I had been. I smiled. It was probably wobbly. “I’m fine. Just let me drink this water and sit here for a little while.”

  The truth was if I moved, I was pretty sure I’d upchuck all over the table.

  “I’m going to go talk to them,” Clara said, standing up.

  “Let me come with you,” Libby exclaimed, following her to towards the bar.

  “This should be interesting,” Hayley snickered.

  Charlie got up too and we all looked at him questioningly. “I just want to make sure they’re okay,” he stammered, scrambling after our co-workers.

  “That is just sad,” Phil laughed. We watched as Clara, Libby, and Charlie swarmed Lucas and Alan. Lucas Bradley seemed to be feeling the same way I did. He swayed in his seat, taking long pulls on the beer bottle in hand.

  Clara pushed her way up beside Lucas. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and leaned oh so casually against the bar. She and Libby laughed loudly. Neither Lucas or Alan paid her any attention.

  “Oh god, it’s like a train wreck,” Hayley giggled.

  “Or bad reality television,” Phil added, seeming to enjoy the embarrassment as much as Hayley.

  Clara leaned in towards Lucas and put her hand on his arm. He gracelessly shrugged her off and swiveled in his chair so he turned his back.

  “What a dick,” I stated, feeling bad for my co-worker, no matter how catty she was.

  “She should have known better than to try with Lucas Bradley,” Hayley said, shaking her head.

  “Why?” I asked. Did I slur? I think I slurred. I hiccupped and quickly covered my mouth with my hand in mortification.

  Clara looked crestfallen. But only for a minute. Another man turned his attention to her and soon she was flirting up a storm. She took rejection well.

  “It’s pretty obvious he has a type and Clara, bless her, isn’t it.” Hayley finished her drink and pushed the empty glass to the edge of the table. Phil got up to get another round.

  “Yeah, the fit model type,” Andrew piped up, a little on the leering side.

  “Fit models huh? Well what makes him so special?” Yeah I was slurring. And hiccupping again. I gave up on feeling embarrassed and decided to embrace my drunkenness.

  Hayley gripped my chin between her fingers and turned my face towards Lucas. “Are you blind?”

  “I guess he’s cute,” I conceded. I could see why the women fawned over him. He was rough and rugged, with a tattoo on the side of his neck and short dark hair that barely covered his skull. His nose was a little crooked, as though he had broken it a few times. But his face was lovely to look at from what I could tell. With full lips that were probably sexy as hell when not sucking on a beer bottle.

  And he wasn’t overly tall from what I could tell, but he was lean and obviously in great shape, being a soccer player and all.

  “Oh, here they come. Ten pounds Clara tries to paint it that she rejected him. Just you wait,” Hayley whispered into my ear before the arrived.

  “So ladies, how did it go? Are you going to become another notch on Bradley’s notorious belt?” Hayley asked, making room in the booth again. Charlie stayed up at the bar, eating peanuts and watching the big screen.

  “He’s not nearly as fit up close. A bit off-putting if you ask me. I didn’t want to waste my time,” Libby remarked casually. Hayley shot me an amused look and I had to stifle my giggle.

  All talk of Lucas Bradley and Alan Cole came to an end after that.

  The conversation became less effort. I drank one more daiquiri, my buzz nicely maintained. Andrew taught me a game with a book of matches that had everyone howling with laughter.

  I felt good.

  Until I wasn’t.

  My head started to pound and I realized I needed to use the bathroom. I excused myself and headed towards the toilets.

  I was halfway there when someone rammed into me from behind and I fell forward. I threw my hands out in front of me, hoping to catch myself before face planting on the floor. I never made contact.

  A pair of hands gripped my arms and hoisted me up until I was placed firmly back on my feet.

  “Watch where you’re going, love.” I was given a full face of Alan Cole’s toothy grin. Damn, he was good looking. I was a little dazzled.

  “Uh, thanks,” I muttered, trying to get steady on my feet.

  “You a yank?” he asked, his grin, if possible, becoming much wider.

  I nodded. I wasn’t star struck. I didn’t know this guy from Adam, but he had this strange effect on me. On nearly everyone around him actually. You could only stand and blink like an idiot as he bestowed you with his attention.

  His curly blond hair was buzzed into a faux hawk. It was adorable. I wanted to ruffle it with my fingers as if he were a toddler.

  Alan leaned in close, his eyes twinkling. “Everything you American’s say sounds like sex to me.” He was teasing. Trying to knock me off balance.

  I snorted, the spell broken. He was just a big flirt. I could handle those. Famous or not.

  “And you sound like Mr. Bean,” I lobbed back. Yep, I was still slurring.

  Alan laughed loudly, slapping his hand on the bar. Everyone around him laughed too, though obviously having no idea why. They just wanted to be a part of the joke. “You know who Mr. Bean is? I think I might love you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “And I have to take a pee. So if you’ll excuse me.”

  I turned and walked, a little clumsily, back to the toilets. Alan had already forgotten about me. I could hear his voice as clear as day once I had shut the door to the bathroom.

  It smelled like bad air freshener but it was empty. And quiet. The persistent throb at my temples just wouldn’t go away. Alcohol and Morgan didn’t mix.

  I had just finished my business and was coming out of the stall when the door burst open. I jumped nearly three feet in the air, my elbow connecting with the sink, sending a shot of pain straight up my arm.


  “Fuck. Help me out here, love.” Lucas Bradley stumbled into the bathroom, his presence large and looming. I froze, shocked at the intrusion.

  Up close he was…overwhelming.

  He was tall. Taller than I thought he was. He seemed less…intimidating when he was sitting on a bar stool nursing a beer. I had to crane my neck to look up at him. And he was beautiful in a conventional sense. With dark blue eyes framed by thick lashes. Full lips and a dimple in his chin. He gave me a smile that would have made me swoon a little bit if I wasn’t freaked out by his sudden appearance in the ladies restroom.

  He fumbled with the lock, trying to turn it.

  “What are you doing?” I demanded. Was he trying to lock himself in the bathroom? With me in here?

  The tight space felt even tighter.

  “I’m trying to lock the door. Can you help me?” he slurred. He rested his forehead against the door with a loud thud. “Fucking hell.”

  “This is the women’s bathroom,” I told him, my voice sounding tiny. I felt trapped. I didn’t like that feeling one little bit. I was enclosed in a small space with a very large, very drunk man, who was blocking the doorway.

  My heart thudded painfully in my chest. The alcohol in my system made me feel shaky. But I was pretty sure I could at the very least, knee him in the balls if I had to.

  I clenched my fists, my nails digging painfully into my palms. It helped clear my head a bit.

  “It’s hot out there. I’m a bit pissed. I need to take a leak.” Each sentence ran into the other and I had to listen hard to understand him.

  “You’re pissed? Why are you angry?” The last thing I wanted was some huge, angry football player taking his rage out on me.

  Lucas Bradley squinted in my direction, as if trying to focus his eyes. “Who said I was angry?”

  “You said you were pissed.” I frowned. He could barely stand up right. He was teetering dangerously to one side.

  “I am pissed. Can’t you fucking tell?” he snapped.

  “Exactly. You can be pissed out there,” I snapped back, pointing at the door.

  “You’re a mouthy thing,” he grinned. “Are you pissed too?”

  “No,” I said, sighing heavily. Was the room spinning? Maybe a little.

  “Don’t tell porkies. You’re completely wankered.”

  “I can’t understand a thing you’re saying,” I spat out. “Now please get the hell out of here.”

  Lucas sat down with his back against the closed door, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “Don’t let me stop you from what you’re doing. I just need a moment. Too many people. Too much noise. It gets to you after a while.”

  “You could always go home or something. You know, rather than hanging out in a bathroom,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

  Lucas sighed and closed his eyes. “I don’t think I can be arsed to move at the moment. The room’s spinning.”

  I washed my hands and then waited. The air was stifling and the air freshener was making me nauseous. The last thing I wanted was to puke in front of this guy.

  I surreptitiously watched him, trying not to be obvious about it. I didn’t think it was beer goggles, but damn he was hot.

  “You can look. They all do,” he said, startling me.

  “Excuse me?”

  He wasn’t being so discreet. He openly ogled me. There was something about the way his eyes raked over my body that made me feel alive. Sexy.

  It had been a long time since I had felt instantaneous physical attraction towards a man I didn’t know. And drooling over Tom Hardy didn’t count.

  If he hadn’t been essentially holding me captive in a nasty restroom, I may have tried to flirt it up a little.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  My cheeks flamed hot. “I uh…well…um…thank you?” I didn’t know what to say. I stumbled and stammered my way through words that didn’t really sound like anything intelligible. So much for being flirty.

  Lucas snorted, clearly amused by my response. “Um..ah…um. Can’t take a compliment?” He closed his eyes, his head wobbling side to side.

  “Okay dick for brains, move out of the way, I’d like to leave.” I threw away the paper towel I had been using and stood directly in front of him, tapping my toe.

  He peered up at me, his eyebrow raised. “Can you stop that? I’ve got a fucking hell of a headache.” He rubbed his temples.

  “Maybe you’re hard of hearing. Move. Out. Of. The. Way.” I nudged him with the tip of my shoe.

  He ignored me.

  I nudged him again. Harder this time.

  He grabbed ahold of my calf, his thick fingers wrapping around and holding me firm. He squeezed. Just lightly. Pressing into my skin. “Stop. Now,” he said softly, with a hint of warning.

  “Just what exactly are you going to do if I don’t?” I challenged. His hand swept up the back of my leg. Past my knee. Up to my thigh, pushing my skirt upwards.

  I let out a squeak as his fingers brushed the curve of my ass. I pushed his hand away. “Keep your hands to yourself,” I exclaimed, feeling strangely out of breath.

  Lucas got to his feet in a rush of movement that had me taking a step backwards. I really wished I hadn’t had so much to drink. I couldn’t think clearly. The room was fuzzy. All I could focus on was Lucas Bradley and his very, very intense eyes.

  “Just what exactly are you going to do if I don’t?” he echoed my words, his hands gripping my waist.

  “Are you trying to intimidate me?” I asked, swallowing thickly. My mouth was dry. My heart was beating furiously. And Lucas Bradley was pressed up against me.

  I felt him everywhere.

  He frowned again, seeming weirdly hurt by the suggestion. “No love. I’m not trying to intimidate you. Not at all.”

  “Then let me offer you a piece of advice. Invading a woman’s personal space will never NOT feel intimidating. Especially since we’re strangers and all,” I pointed out.

  Lucas took a stumbling step backwards. “Fuck. Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t think— I wasn’t…” He looked crestfallen. His unfocused eyes apologetic.

  I straightened up, smoothing my skirt. I was too drunk for this crap.

  “Were you raised in a barn?” I quipped.

  Lucas drew himself upright, or as much as he was able to while barely being able to stand. “I was raised by my mum and she did a bang up job. Don’t insult her parenting.”

  “I’m not insulting your mother’s parenting. It’s a figure of speech.”

  “You’re American, aren’t you?” he asked and I nodded.

  “Well Miss America, can I kiss you?”

  “What?” I asked, shocked.

  Lucas’ eyes roamed over my body again before focusing as much as he was able to on my lips. “I don’t want to intimidate you, but fuck me, I want to kiss you.”

  “You don’t know me,” I argued, feeling breathless again. And hot. Really, really hot.

  “So?” He was breathing heavily. “Does it matter?”

  He didn’t move but I felt the air around us tightening. Drawing us in. “So can I kiss you?” he whispered.

  Something came over me. Something that didn’t make much sense. Something completely irrational.

  I nodded.

  “Yes.”

  Lucas’ mouth crashed down onto mine before I could think about the intelligence of my decision. His hands came up to frame my face as he pushed me back into the sink, the porcelain hard against my back.

  I pulled back sharply, wrenching my lips free. We were both breathing hard, our noses touching. “Damn,” he murmured, running his tongue along seam of my mouth.

  “Yeah. Damn,” I agreed. And then he was kissing me again.

  His tongue pushed between my teeth and in a moment of complete insanity I let him. I kissed him back with equal ferocity. I bit down on his lower lip and he groaned loudly, the sound too loud in the tiny space.

  We kissed like we were drowning. My hands gripping the front
of his shirt, his fingers digging into my hair.

  My legs became wobbly and I was in danger of collapsing onto the floor.

  “You taste amazing,” he moaned into my mouth.

  “It’s the daiquiris. They were strawberry,” I told him. What was I saying?

  “Stop talking,” he told me a little forcefully. He gripped the back of my thighs and hoisted me up onto the sink, my ass slipping into the bowl. I had to grab ahold of him so I wouldn’t lose all sense of decorum.

  “Don’t tell me to stop talking,” I snapped.

  And then I was moaning.

  Because his hand was up my skirt, confident fingers slipping beneath the elastic of my panties. And then he was touching me. Deep. So deep.

  This was way more than kissing.

  There was a bang on the door. “Come out of there! I need to pee!” someone yelled.

  “Go away!” Lucas barked, his fingers never stopping working me over.

  “We can’t stay in here all night,” I gasped, my head dropping back as he ran his tongue along the column of my throat.

  There was more banging on the door and I tensed.

  Lucas pushed another finger inside me and kissed me hard, his teeth biting down on my lip hard enough to draw blood. “We’re not going anywhere. Not yet,” he ordered. His cheeks were flushed, his breathing labored. I ran my hand over the front of his jeans and he groaned, closing his eyes.

  The person on the other side wouldn’t stop banging and it was really messing with the move. I tried to get off the sink, wiggling against Lucas’ hand. “I really think—”

  “Fuck off!” he shouted, kicked the door with his boot.

  Whoever needed to use the toilet went away pretty quickly after that.

  He turned back to me, a sultry smile on his pretty, pretty lips. “Now where were we?”

  I pushed his hand against me, both of us groaning loudly. I was acting like such a slut. And I didn’t really care.

  “So hot. So fucking hot,” he grunted as he pumped his fingers in and out. Over and over again. I spread my legs as wide as I was able to in my skirt, not caring about the water in the sink soaking through the fabric of my skirt. He pressed his mouth to my neck, sucking and nibbling.

  What was I doing?

  I wasn’t the kind of girl to let a stranger finger fuck her in a public restroom. Especially one that was kind of a dick. This was completely out of character.