End Game_Bellevue Bullies Series Read online

“Right? Not an ounce of fat on her!”

  He nods in agreement as I continue, “It’s really annoying. I carry all mine in my ass, you know what I mean?”

  He sputters with laughter, his eyes teasing, and I glare. Though, my grin probably says I’m not offended at all. “Are you making fun of my ass?”

  “Oh no,” he says quickly. “That ass of yours is nothing to joke about. Worship is more like it.”

  Stupid heart. “I’ve never had a guy worship my ass.”

  “Yeah, you have.”

  “I haven’t!”

  He gives me a sly grin. “You just don’t know it.”

  His eyes sparkle, and I can’t stop my lips from curving before I look away, limping toward the massive house now only a few feet away. I have heard stories of this house, how the best parties are held here. Seeing it up close, I don’t think it looks like a party house full of dudes. It looks classy, nice. Well kept.

  When we reach the stairs that lead up to the front door, I go to take the first step when his hand comes into mine. Ryan laces his fingers with mine. He presses his hand into my palm, and my heart stops. Dead in my chest. “Careful now.”

  I don’t know if he felt the jolt of heat run up his arm, but mine is on fire.

  Oh hell.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sofia

  I find myself seated in the dining room of the Bullies’ house, and there is so much more I could be looking at. Yet I’m staring at Ryan’s naked torso as he delves into the first aid kit. Before I found myself mesmerized by him, I did check out the room. It is decorated beautifully in shades of teal with a huge black dining table in the middle. On the walls are oil paintings of dudes I don’t know, but their names are below each painting. I’m not trying to learn their faces or even their names; I’m too busy drinking in every single detail of Ryan Justice.

  Like how his brows pull in when he reads a bottle. Or how he bites his full bottom lip as he holds up every single bandage, making sure they will work for each of my cuts. My mouth is dry and my body is trembling, but I don’t say anything as he gathers what he needs.

  “So, a double back tuck with a triple twist is what broke the knee, but how did you tear the ACL?”

  I shouldn’t be impressed that he remembered—I mean, he is a gymnast’s brother—but I am.

  I really am.

  Damn it.

  “Same move.”

  He scoffs. “Really?”

  “Yeah, I knew I could do it.”

  “Did you?”

  “I landed both, but they ended badly.”

  “Hardheaded?”

  “Oh yes, personality flaw.”

  He shakes his head, crouching down before me. “Or not.”

  “It isn’t?”

  “Not at all. Means you’re driven, won’t back down.”

  “Oh,” I say slowly as he sprays some antiseptic on my knee. I almost complain until he blows softly on my wound, his eyes never leaving mine. The last thing on my mind is complaining, but giving words to what I’m thinking isn’t gonna happen.

  For his safety and mine.

  “Probably ’cause I’m hardheaded too.” When he winks at me, I’m surprised I don’t fall out of my chair. No guy has ever winked at me. Ever.

  Apparently, Ryan Justice specializes in it.

  Swallowing hard, I look down where he is patting my knee with a napkin. “So, it’s a flaw, but we ignore that?”

  “Yeah, anything that can make us look weak, we don’t ever own up to.”

  Ah, he’s speaking my language. But if we don’t move on, I’m gonna tackle him to the ground. What in God’s name is wrong with me?

  Clearing my throat, I ask, “So, you tore your ACL?”

  “Yup, sixth grade. I was out a whole season.”

  “You actually stayed out?”

  He gives me a dry look. “Come on now, you know I didn’t. I was on a crutch with a hockey stick in the other hand, shooting at the goal. I got in so much trouble with my parents, and the only reason I wasn’t on the ice was because I wasn’t driving yet.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, and when I strained my other knee in high school, I still went to the rink. Amelia’s tattletaling ass always told on me, though.”

  A giggle leaves my lips. “She did?”

  “Always, which is cool. I got back at her when she broke her arm but tried doing things on her beam in her room.”

  I give him a nod. “Way to go.”

  “Right?” he laughs as he moves to the next scratch on my leg. “You don’t have siblings?”

  “No, I’m an only child.”

  “How is that?”

  I shrug. “I mean, I was in the gym twenty-four seven. When I wasn’t, I was sleeping.”

  “So the girls in the gym were family, then?”

  I shake my head. “I went to a very competitive gym. Even when I was in Texas, we were nice to each other, but we all hated each other. No one was friends. We all wanted to beat each other to get the top spot.”

  “But the top was your spot?” His eyes are dark as they hold mine, stealing every single breath I have.

  “When I wasn’t hurt, it was.”

  He nods slowly as he bandages me up. “Which I doubt was often. You probably hid a bunch.”

  I quirk my lips. “Something like that.”

  We share a small smile before he goes to clean the next scratch. I really did a number on myself. “You don’t have to do this. I think the big scrape was the one that would have given me a problem getting back to my dorm.”

  He waves me off. “I’m here. Stop trying to run off.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You are,” he throws back at me before glancing up at me through his lashes. “Probably because you don’t want to be around such a pretty boy and all.”

  Kill me now. I bite my lip as he watches me, his fingers moving ever so softly along my leg, sending jolts of shocks through me. I swear his touch is like getting staticky clothes out of the dryer, but in a way, it’s satisfying.

  Because, obviously, I’m insane.

  “Nothing to say to that?”

  I shrug. “I mean, what do you want me to say?”

  “Deny it?”

  “Why? That would be lying.”

  “Throw Amelia some shade?”

  “I’d never do that to my best friend. I know what I said.”

  “So you think I’m a pretty boy?”

  “I do.”

  His eyes darken. “Is it my lashes? My cousins say I have girl lashes.”

  I shrug. “Maybe.” His eyes are trained on mine, and everything inside me is melting like plastic on a stove. He has me hot but also squirming. When his lips press together in a thin line, I swallow hard. “I don’t like your hair all greased to the side. Plus, who shows up to a meet in a three-piece suit?”

  He smiles ruefully. “I’ll give you the thing with my hair. I hate doing it like that, but I have to match my team. If you look at the painting on the wall, you’ll see we all have to dress like that.”

  I look to where his hand is pointing. Jude Sinclair looks back at me, his hair greased back, in a nice suit, and his green eyes shining. I hate that I have to eat my words. “So I guess you don’t feel you’re a pretty boy, then?”

  He scoffs. “No, I’m a man.”

  Now, it’s my turn to scoff. “Well, for a man, your shorts are too tight.”

  His eyes are challenging as he says, “Well, sweetheart, I gotta keep things in place when I’m running.” My brows come together for one second before I realize what he’s saying. Of course, I look right down at his crotch, and because the universe likes fucking with me, I not only get an eyeful, but he sees the whole thing. “It’s contained. For now.”

  Please. Kill me now.

  “I wasn’t the least bit worried.”

  “You shouldn’t be. I’m a gentleman,” he says, standing, and it takes everything and more for me to not look at his crotch once again. “Also, no one