Match Point by Leigh Carman
BLURB
Two stubborn men.
One is a rude jerk. The other, the life of
the party.
It was hate at first sight.
Pro beach volleyball
players Finn Callahan and Dexter Savage have been rivals since college. While
Finn always comes out on top on the court, Dexter’s carefree and fun-loving
personality earns him scores of adoring men and women. And as much as Finn fights
to deny it, there’s another reason for the tension he feels when Dex is around.
Hate wasn’t the only thing he felt when he first laid eyes on his opponent.
When they’re forced
to team up, the two men must bury their differences—on and off the court—if either
of them is going to succeed professionally.
EXCERPT
Finn
“Get it. Get it. Hurry,
hurry!”
I scramble for the ball
while Coach yells out encouragements—or possibly reprimands. I can never be
sure which. Either way I’m on top of my game today. I hustle to the net, get
under the ball, and bump it with my wrists, arcing it high for Dex.
Dex waits for it to come
down and lifts it using his fingertips. As the ball goes in the air, I take a
running jump, curve my body so it doesn’t touch any part of the net, and smack
the ball over our opponent’s head. It hits the sand.
“Yes,” Dex shouts and
holds up a hand for me to high-five. Grinning, I reach out and slap my hand
into his. Dex holds on to it for a brief moment. The contact is quick—less than
a second—but the heat that sears through my palm leaves a lasting impression.
It’s time to switch sides and it’s my turn to serve. Dex puts his hands behind
his back and gives me the signal to hit it left with no spin. I toss the ball
up and hit it over the net.
Beautiful. Our opponent
drops to his knees and makes the save, but he can’t get to his position quickly
enough to reach the ball his partner perfectly sets for him. Dex cheers and
pumps his fist in the air. I grin at his enthusiasm. Watching Dexter Savage have
the time of his life is mesmerizing. It infuses me with an energy I’ve never
felt before. I no longer see Dex as just another charming guy. He has me
spellbound and hanging on his every word.
“Nice whiff, dickhead,” I
call out when he misses a dig and comes up with a mouthful of sand.
I can’t have him thinking
I like him or something.
Dex laughs and spits out
the sand. “Shut up, Callahan.”
By the end of the day, we
should be exhausted, but we’re riding high on winning the New Orleans Open, and
on the thirty-minute ride back to the hotel on the river, we both get our
second wind. Dex is literally bouncing around. He’s so full of energy, he’s
making me dizzy.
“Come on, Finn. Let’s go
out to celebrate. This is New Orleans, The Big Easy. There’s sin on every corner
and a ton of awesome clubs here.”
I roll my eyes. “I doubt
your idea of an awesome club is the same as mine, Savage.”
“What?” Dex squints at
me. Then his eyes widen almost comically. “Oooooohhh. You don’t think I can
handle a gay club?” A slow, snarky grin spreads across his handsome face, and
my breath hitches.
Hello dimple.
I shake off my dirty
thoughts to get back to the subject at hand. “No. I don’t. God. I can’t even
think about you going into a gay club without laughing.”
Or getting hard and
groaning.
“Hmph.” Dex levels his
intense hazel eyes at me and quirks one eyebrow in challenge.
“No, Dex.”
“Yes, Finn,” he sings
gleefully.
“No way.”
Dex chuckles and nods his
head. “Oh yes. Pull out your sparkly top, baby, because we’re hitting the gay
clubs tonight.”
“Fuck you, Savage. I
don’t own a sparkly top.”
“Rainbow?”
“No.”
Dex gives me a disgusted
look. “What kind of gay man are you?”
“Not a very good one, I
guess.”
One who crushes on his
straight teammate, that’s what kind of gay man I am. A stupid one.
After five minutes of
back and forth, I finally get Dex to let go of the idea of cruising gay clubs
tonight, but only on the promise that I’ll take him to one when we get back to
LA. I’m hoping he’ll forget by then, because seeing his gorgeous ass shaking on
a dance floor while hot, sweaty guys grind on him? I’d implode before the night
was over.
We change and grab a cab,
and Dex directs the driver to head toward Bourbon Street. “Really, Dex? Bourbon
Street? Can’t we go somewhere a little less—”
“Less fun? No, Callahan,
we can’t. You’re having fun if it kills me. Tonight I’m officially removing the
stick from your ass….” Dex twists his head and shoots me a scorching look that
has my dick throbbing painfully in my shorts. “Even if I have to pin you down
to yank it out.”
Holy fuck.
I swallow, and my mouth
suddenly disconnects from my brain as every drop of blood in my body turns to
lava and collects in my groin.
“Whatever, Savage,” I
mumble, turn to the window, and shift my hips so Dex can’t see my now fully
hard cock.
Dex laughs and shoves my
shoulder. Does he not know what he’s doing to me? I sneak a glance at my
teammate. He’s looking out his own window, eyes glittering, smile as wide as a
kid on Christmas morning.
No. He has no clue. He’s
truly excited to go out and have fun. In fact he’s practically bursting out of
his skin, he’s so wound up. But then, Dexter Savage always was the life of the
party. He’s comfortable in his own skin. It’s what makes him so attractive.
Well, besides the tousled, just out of bed hair, the perfectly straight nose
and full mouth, and the body to die for. But his outgoing personality was what
had me crushing on him in college—and the reason I hated his guts. I watched
him every day at practice as he charmed everyone around us, and knew he would
never be available to me.
“Here it is.” Dex throws
some money at the cab driver and leaps out of the car. I take a look at my
surroundings and thump my head on the glass. We’re on a street thick with
pedestrians clutching hurricane glasses and sipping through long straws as they
mingle in the crowd. Neon signs line the business fronts on both sides of the
cab, each promising a different kind of debauchery inside.
Dex leans down and sticks
his head in the backseat. “What are you waiting for, Callahan? Let’s get this
party started.”
Ugh. Tonight is going to be pure torture.
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Leigh Carman Bio
Leigh Carman is the pen name for the M/M romances written by bestselling
Contemporary romance writer, Heather C. Leigh.
She lives outside Atlanta with her husband, 2
kids, and French bulldog.
She is leaving explicit directions in her will
for her friends to discreetly scatter her ashes around Fenway Park. Then they
are to sit back, watch a game with a beer and a Fenway frank and have a wicked
good time.
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