GRIND

by MEGAN MATTHEWS

  “This is not happening, Ryland.”

  He squeezes me tighter. “This is so happening, Marissa.”

  EPILOGUE

  * Ryland *

  The smells of spring in early May are all around as I take in a large breath in hopes I capture it before the game takes over my senses. I love being on the field after it’s been clipped—no smell matches fresh cut grass. Especially those nasty candles my mother sends me for Christmas every year. Wait till Marissa finds that box in her quest to organize twenty-five years of soccer shit. The thought of that argument makes me chuckle and my dick perks up even though he got some action this morning.

  Marissa’s pert little ass comes into my line of sight and my eyes are drawn in her direction as she bends over one of the brand new white goal post we purchased for the Youth Center. She swats at something around her face, batting her hair in the process. When her feet start stomping on the ground as she tries to look at the bottom of her shoe, a chuckle escapes. Her head raises to the sky in silent prayer and I outright laugh. My Kitten hates mornings. And nature.

  My laughter must draw her attention because Marissa stops her little show and pulls her hair into a ponytail. When she turns to me and waves in my direction, my dick and I both stand at attention. He’s fucking ridiculous.

  Ask your average soccer fan and most would tell you Marissa reformed the stereotypical playboy, but they’re wrong. This is the most sex I’ve had in years. Maybe ever. Hell Marissa is my first and last long-term relationship.

  The woman in question pulls up her stretchy black yoga pants and leans against the goal post using it to stretch on. It’s like she does this shit on purpose, just to screw with me. The position reminds me of the time I bent her over in the kitchen counter, but now I visualize the fun we’d have with a goalpost. My dick stirs again while I make future plans and decide on another rule. Number six — more yoga pants.

  Another brown haired women enters the field, approaching Marissa while waving in my direction. Damn Aspen and Finn with their horrible timing. I wave back and scan the field for Finn who has yet to emerge.

  I cannot let him see me standing on the sidelines drooling over my new wife. Finn was the guy in college who continuously mocked my girlfriends. He was right. Not only did they look like Barbie, they were also mostly plastic. The trend continued when I went pro. What can I say, they look nice on your arm for the night, but not so much the next morning when you’ve worn off the make-up.

  Finn and I both know he’s the one who told me to find a real woman to make me happy. He’s seen me with Marissa. He doesn’t need my verbal confirmation to gloat in. As if being a video game tycoon wasn’t enough, this would make his year. He’d probably get Grant to tape record my confession and then stick it online.

  The man himself finally walks on the field and heads in my direction. Aspen must not have dressed him because he’s in jeans and a grey t-shirt with a Mario mushroom on the front. There might be a matching one in my closet. The jeans aren't the best choice, but it’s before ten o’clock on a Saturday morning. We should be grateful he’s out of bed and not in pajamas.

  “Grant’s running late, but he’ll be here.” Finn slaps me on the back in our brotherly way. “I can’t believe you succeeded in getting everyone here so early on a weekend.”

  When I first suggested a soccer game between our group of friends and the kids I’ve been coaching for the last few weeks, the response wasn’t what I expected. Who doesn’t want to play soccer at 8 a.m. on a Saturday? I finally pushed it back to nine-thirty and everyone agreed… with help.

  “It’s for the kids and Marissa may have threatened people to get them here.” I shrug. None of us expect less from her.

  He laughs and slaps me on the back again, but this time I assume it’s from pity. Finn’s always been a sweet guy. He has no idea how Marissa’s feisty side turns me on.

  “Have your parents calmed down yet?” he asks in reference to their less than stellar reaction to my marriage. Their first responses were mild compared to how the accusations have spiraled the longer we stay married.

  “Nope. My dad still thinks I’m on drugs.” And if he goes to the press with his allegations as he’s threatened, they’ll both be cut off. Marissa does not need more shit to read on her damn gossip blog sites. It’s officially rule number two now. Neither of us need to waste time on my parents or reporters.

  A little red sports car pulls up to the curb on the side of the center. Trey walks around the side and opens the door for Simone. I need to try that with Marissa. See if it earns me any extra points. Finn runs off in their direction and the first kids start to exit the building and make their way to the field.

  “Hey, Ryland.” A female voice comes from behind me. I turn to see Amanda. “I wanted to say thanks for letting me rent out the apartment."

  “No problem. I’m sure Marissa will love having you close.” I haven’t spent much time with the fourth member of Marissa’s group of friends. I hope the two don’t spend all night gabbing together and cut into my wife time. There’s a lot of apartment Marissa and I haven’t tested out yet.

  “I plan to move in next week and will make sure to keep boxes out of the hallway.” She laughs at the end of her statement, but I can’t figure out if she's making a joke or concerned. Amanda should know Marissa enough to realize any friend of hers is safe from my wrath.

  “Do you need help moving in? Finn always volunteers Jake for these events, and I’m sure we plan to help too.”

  “He’s right. We’d help you if you need it. I haven’t done my moving in duty with anyone lately.” Grant comes from nowhere and works himself into the conversation.

  I swear she blushes. “No thanks. I have three brothers. They’d be upset if I didn’t let them help out and scope out the place."

  Aspen waves and Amanda uses the opportunity to walk in her direction crossing the field the fastest anyone’s moved today. My kids will kick this group’s ass.

  “Is everyone here?” Grant takes Amanda’s place beside me and we stare out at the field as it gathers more and more people.

  I’ve lost sight of Marissa and I scan the group looking for her dark hair, but she’s too short to see above everyone else’s head. "Yeah, now that you’re here, we’re ready to go.”

  I start to walk toward the field, but Grant pulls on my arm until I stop. “I don’t see Clare. Is she here?”

  “Um, no. She had a family commitment today. One of her other volunteers is here with the kids.” I don’t ask Grant why he's concerned. I don’t need to.

  There’s a single reason why he’d ask about a girl he had a one-night stand with a month ago. His behavior and the way he’s dressed this morning, in a button down shirt and a pair of black pants, tell me what I need to know. Like Finn, he either doesn’t know how to dress to play soccer or he’d hoped to impress someone.

  “I haven’t seen her since the fundraiser and she never gave me her phone number. Do you think Marissa would share it with me?”

  I laugh at his misguided dumbass optimism. Marissa might consider Grant a friend, but she’s only killed him twice in an online game. I’m waiting for her to make a strike out here in reality. I’d give it to him, but there’s no way I’d sign myself up for true Marissa fury. I’m quite attached to my balls.

  Marissa breaks free from the crowd and jogs in our direction. My smile comes instantly… until I see the narrow-eyed look she throws at Grant, and my body tightens, ready for impact.

  “Grant,” she greets him without even looking in my direction. How does she resist me?

  Grant smiles at Marissa, completely oblivious to how many hours I’ve listened to my wife rant about how stupid Grant is to sleep with Clare and then not talk to her again.

  “Kitten,” I try to defuse her before this becomes bloody, but even I can’t make her turn in my direction.

  Marissa pops a foot in front of her in the cute little stomp she sometimes does and increases her glare at Grant. “Do you kn
ow Clare didn’t come today because you were going to be here?”

  Grant’s so shocked he’s speechless, which is odd for him. Marissa’s rattled him more than either of them realize. “Ry said she had a family thing.”

  Marissa scoffs. “Yeah, that’s what she said, but we know the truth. It’s you.”

  I’ve never seen a man’s face fall so quickly. “That’s a ridiculous reason to not attend. She needs to grow the hell up.” Grant makes the situation a million times worse and then walks off onto the field leaving me to deal with the crazy woman.

  “Kitten.” I reach over and tug her closer to me as we both watch Grant walk away.

  She sighs and snuggles into my side. “I’m sorry. He just annoys me so much with this Clare shit. Why can’t he leave her alone already?"

  Would I be breaking the code if I told her it’s more than likely because he likes her but hasn’t figured it out on his own yet? Probably. “It's okay. You being pissy turns me on. Take it out on me later.” I lean down and kiss her on the top of her head.

  “Maybe,” she answers, but she hasn’t let it go.

  The last few kids come out from the building and everyone circles together in the center of the field. I need to let Marissa go and coach this game, but I’m not ready yet.

  Thank God I talked her into marrying me. It took forever to get her to the altar. I’d started to worry she’d never say yes. I won’t waste the hard work I put into winning her over by sticking up for Grant now. He’s on his own. And that’s how I know Marissa’s the one for me. Even though she might argue it for the sake of arguing, I think of her with every decision I make.

  In its simplest form, Marissa has become my life and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  The End

  *Keep reading for an excerpt from Irrevocably Mine, the third book in the Imagine Ink series by Verlene Landon.

  A note from the author:

  Thank you for reading Grind! I hope you enjoyed Ryland and Marissa’s story. If you haven’t read the other two stories in The Boys of RDA series you can find Rush here and Lag here at major ebook retailers. You can also visit find out more the series and my upcoming stories on my website: www.authormeganmatthews.com.

  If you’d like other ways to stay up to date on information happening in the RDA world or other new releases you can find my author page on Facebook or join my mailing list. Fans can also join my Facebook Reader Group for the inside track on what’s happening behind the scenes, special giveaways, and advanced reader copies of new books.

  About the author:

  Megan Matthews writes smutty romance by day and hides behind her secret identity as a responsible Pinterest mom when other parents are around. She believes morning shouldn’t start until noon and chocolate should be calorie free. Living in Michigan she prefers sun over snow, hot chocolate over coffee, and wine over beer.

  Megan once displayed the entire Goosebumps series on her bookshelf. Her taste in reading eventually matured. She now prefers her heroes with rippling muscles naked in bed over brace-faced nerds running from murderous dummies.

  You can follow her online:

  * FACEBOOK * TWITTER * INSTAGRAM * FB READER GROUP * MAILING LIST * WEBSITE *

  * Available Now *

  Irrevocably Mine by Verlene Landon

  Whoever said love isn’t easy wasn’t kidding.

  Love grabs hold, shapes you, and takes over until you are no longer in control.

  At five foot two, Stacy stands tall in her designer heels—accessorized with a no-nonsense attitude, off-color sense of humor, and a sharp tongue.

  Big Dax is larger than life—a sasquatch of a man with the soul of an artist, the heart of a Viking, and eyes for just one woman.

  Stacy’s life is just fine as is—great sex, stiff drinks, and wins in the courtroom. She has everything she’s ever dreamed of and doesn’t need a man to “complete her” like some cheesy rom-com.

  Dax has thought of nothing the past year except getting Stacy into his home, heart, and bed. Nothing, that is, except finding his daughter and bringing her home. He’s a man with two missions and both seem impossible. His daughter will come home, and Stacy will be his, come hell or high water.

  Anything worth loving is worth fighting for.

  **Continue reading for a sneak peak of Irrevocably Mine **

  CHAPTER ONE

  It’s fucking déjà vu all over again, Big Dax mused with a reflective sigh.

  Me, sitting here eye-humping Stacy; her, pretending not to notice; the rest of this patchwork family that I fucking love stupid, blind to it all, as usual.

  His hungry gaze devoured her from the top of her platinum head to the four-inch spikes of her red-soled heels but he somehow managed to catch snippets of the conversations taking place around him.

  Gus was seated to his right, debating the finer points of MMA with Stacy’s brother, John. Dax would bet his right nut—yes, it’s my favorite—John didn’t give two shits about MMA, but he damn sure did about Augusta, or Gus as everyone called her. John was so far down that rabbit hole, he’d probably sit there and discuss vagina maintenance tendencies in the elderly community of The Villages if that’s what she wanted to talk about. Good thing I’m not that deep.

  Before the “p” sound faded in his gray matter, a realization he wasn’t ready to accept yet reared it’s ugly head and taunted him…again. Aw, Hulk’s hairy green taint, John is just following the Goddamn trail I blazed.

  Dax was beginning to realize he was similar to a hunk of oak he made tables from or a chunk of metal he forged into something lethal—a metaphorical blank dermal canvas that could be inked into a living work of art. It was all just raw material until a craftsman carved, forged, or inked it into something more. In the past few months, Stacy had made her marks on him. He was no longer completely raw. Something different was taking shape, a chrysalis effect.

  Stacy is already my master craftsman and I haven’t even kissed her yet.

  Tori and Erika, the two ladies he considered sisters in every sense of the word, were just inside the kitchen chatting it up. You know, love ‘em to death, but they make your life hell with their meddling; sisters. They droned on about the same thing they'd been plotting for over a year now, throwing Dax at Gus, or Gus at Dax—different path, but same destination.

  Those two adorably well-meaning, but clueless, women were the reason four of the ten adults here at the Reid’s home on this fine summer day in Florida were more miserable than the investors in the Member’s Only corporation in 1990. It wasn’t like he was the only one with ears. Gus suffered their misguided attentions, too. It was pretty much public knowledge at this point; they were playing matchmaker for Gus and Dax.

  Even though they weren’t the least bit interested in each other that way, neither had the guts to take a piss in Erika and Tori’s Cheerios. Dax wasn’t one to sprinkle feel good between all the truths, but he was loathe to upset the fragile balance this family-by-choice had finally achieved after a year that would make even his ancestors, the historic Vikings, cringe.

  In just twelve short months, this clan had seen tragedy, assault, death, birth, and, lucky for them, much love too. His attention was diverted back to Stacy as she gracefully swept past where he sat and disappeared down the hall. As he was being hypnotized by the perfect sway of hips, Francis’ heated words almost gave him whiplash as he spun his head around like Linda-freaking-Blair.

  What? Dax stuck a finger in his ear and shook it in an attempt to clean it out to ensure he was hearing things correctly and he stared, dumbfounded, in the direction of Francis’ voice.

  Francis was the matriarch, the thread that held the scraps of the quilt of this family together. She was short, sassy, and southern, but she would turn into a freaking beast to protect every single one of them against anyone, even each other. She was intuitive, like him. They both seemed to observe things on a deeper level than most, and neither shied away from saying so as a rule. The evidence of that trait in her is blow
ing me away right now.

  She was standing up to his sisters. He knew she was serious too, because she was using phrases like “bless your heart,” “just because you slap butter on it, don’t make it a biscuit,” and “for the love of grits.” She knows, she fucking knows. Well, bless her heart, and not in the sarcastic southern way either, Dax thought.

  Francis could see he and Gus were a no-go, but more than that, she could see what Tori and Erika’s TattooArtistMatch.com efforts were doing to the people they called family. She was spelling it out for them and telling them to back the truck up, but in a sweet as iced tea way, of course.

  Aw, fuck me stupid. Dax’s brain turned to oatmeal, his lungs, frozen. His heart hammered in his chest like a muscle car piston and his dick tried to break out of Levi Prison and hump Stacy’s leg like one of Tori’s Great Danes.

  Stacy was emerging from the hall in a white, one piece swimsuit and some see-through sheer cover-up that covered absofuckinglutely nothing, and those fuck-me pumps. As she turned to open the screen slider, he caught a glimpse of that delectable crease at the bottom of her ass cheek that led into a soft thigh that would feel like Heaven on his shoulder. Fuck yes, that is the exact location I will grip her sweet body while I wax my beard.

  Dax rose from his seat and trailed Stacy out onto the pool deck where the rest of his family was hanging out. This is going to happen, damn it. Stacy will be mine. Francis had paved the way and basically stamped her approval on it with her words to his sisters. She’s the sheriff around these here parts, and we are all just lawfuckingabiding citizens.

  Even though he wasn’t biologically related to the Reids, Francis was standing up to the daughter she gave birth to, Tori, and Erika, her daughter-by-marriage to her son, Walker. She was standing up for Dax, her son by choice, and by extension, she was fighting for Gus, Stacy, and John. She loved all her “kids” with equal ferocity.