Free Cowboy Redemption (Down Under Cowboy Book 6) by Kasey Millstead Page B

scrum, knowing this is our last chance to win the match.  The other team is in front by four points.  We need to get the ball back. 
    The ball goes wide and I run at my opponent, knocking him to the ground in a one-on-one tackle and stealing the ball back at the same time.  The ref waves his hand, indicating a play on, so I race to the try line, sidestepping and twisting my body to avoid being tackled.  I’m taken down, so I play the ball and move back into my position. 
    Glancing up, I see the clock counting down.  We have one more play and ten seconds remaining.  It is the fifth tackle, so I know my player is going to kick.  I wave my hand, indicating I have a free space in front of me and I want the ball.  The kick goes high, and I move toward it, jumping high into the air and grasping it.  It slips and I quickly rein it back in.  My feet land heavily on the ground and I shrug off the defenders as I barge through the defensive line and make my way to the goal area. 
    I fall over the try line, right under the posts, and immediately stand, cheering toward the crowd, celebrating the points.
    Floating on Cloud Nine, we exit the field after congratulating our opponents on a hard-fought game.  Now, we are ready to party.  The team always heads to our team sports bar to celebrate after a game, and tonight is no different.
    “Go easy tonight, Kye,” the trainer warns.
    “Yeah, yeah,” I agree, shirking him off.  I had a stellar match, completing more tackles than I have in recent weeks, and making more line breaks than I ever have.  Plus, I secured the game-winning try, so I deserve a night out.
    As usual, the bar is packed.  Players, supporters and girls fill the room.  Loud music is pumping from the jukebox and drinks are flowing.
    “What are ya drinking, bro?  My shout,” my teammate, Costa, asks me.
    “Beer, thanks man.”
    He returns moments later, handing me a drink.
    “Cheers,” I say, holding the glass up.
    “Fucking good game, dude,” he replies, chinking his beer with mine.
    The amber liquid slides down my throat easily and before I know it, I have consumed enough drinks to have my mind feeling hazy.
    Girls paw me, running their manicured hands over my shoulders and down my face.
    “Let me feel your muscles, Kye.  You’re so strong,” one croons, giggling when I flex my biceps.
    “Hey, baby,” a girl says, sitting her arse down in my lap.  Her short skirt rides high and my hand immediately grips the top of her bare thigh.  Her skin is smooth.  She wiggles a little in my lap and my cock begins to take notice.
    “Want to dance?” she asks, giving me puppy dog eyes.
    “Sure,” I slur slightly.  Standing, she takes my hand and leads me onto the floor.   The beat sounds foggy as it filters through my inebriated brain.  Shaking her arse in front of me, she bends over.  Unable to resist, I move in closer, gripping her hips and pulling her toward me.  She grinds her juicy round arse against my cock, teasing me.
    Fuck yeah, I love this life.
    Hours later, sometime in the morning before the sun has risen, I stumble out of the bar. 
    “Fuck I’m pissed,” I slur to no one.  I’m so drunk I can’t feel my fingers and my legs are starting to go numb.  It has been a fucking awesome night, though.
    “Good game, bro.  Go home and sleep it off. See you at training on Monday,” Preston, one of my teammates, says, scuffing my head.
    “See ya, man.”  I stand on the curb, waiting for a taxi.  They always seem to all disappear when you need one.
    “You leaving without me, baby?”  The girl I danced with earlier comes up behind me, touching my shoulders and whispering in my ear.
    “Drunk,” I mumble, not awake or sober enough to have a proper conversation.
    “You want some company?” she whispers seductively. 
    I shrug.  Sure I’d like some company, but I’m so fucked up at the moment, I don’t reckon I will be able to get my dick to rise.
    “Oi, dickhead!” I hear