Ruck

By Holly S. Roberts

Van, one of the best players in rugby and the hottest player between the sheets is looking for a holiday miracle. His brother won the girl and Van's heart is broken. Could the gift of a lifetime be his for the taking or will this bad boy ruck it up again?

Play – A whole lot of alpha
Strike – A little bit kinky
Kick – A love triangle
Slam – A bit of suspense
Ruck – A very bad boy

• Language: English
• Publisher: Holly S. Roberts
• Release date: Dec 2, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311623041

Holly S. Roberts

Holly S Roberts is a retired homicide detective and the USA TODAY Bestselling Author of Play and Ruck (Completion Sports series). She is excited to announce a new crime thriller series published by Bookouture Hachette releasing 1/13/2023. For Holly's spicier side, you'll love her anti-hero bad boys who will curl your toes (Hotter Than Hell series) and a lighter (not so spicy) humorous paranormal series with shifters and Hellhounds (Marinah and King). She also writes cozy mysteries under the pen name Suzie Ivy. She lives with her two spoiled dogs high in the mountains. Holly is a self-defense instructor and owned a martial arts gym where she taught women to kick butt. Visit wickedstorytelling.com for more info.

Book preview

Chapter One

If true love happens only once in a lifetime, I’m fucked. My fists hit the heavy bag, and pain lances through my ungloved knuckles. Sweat trails down my body and I still can’t let go of whatever it is that’s eating me alive. The bag might be taking a pounding, but hitting it does little to stop my restlessness. The Slam’s season ended three months ago, and my life has been completely in the dumps since. We won the damn championship and I shouldn’t feel this way. What the hell is wrong with me?

It all goes back to Cami and my brother, Joel. He got the girl I had no idea I actually wanted, until it was too late. Cami is a great sister-in-law, but what if I hadn’t been such an asshole and had made a stand-up decision for once? What then?

I always blamed my sad fucking life for my stupid choices, which is a joke. Yes, I lost my mom when I was sixteen and it’s something that changed me. Unfortunately, it didn’t change me into someone she’d be proud of. I’m a womanizing dick. For one night, Cami was an itch. When I was done, I expected to be her friend or even enemy. Sister-in-law was entirely off my radar.

It bothers me. She and my brother couldn’t be happier. Their daughter, Lilly, is six months old and adds even more love to their fairytale life. I love my niece, I love my brother and Cami, but I’m so fucking jealous and that jealousy burns deep in my gut.

You would think I would have felt worse when Joel, Cami, and I lived in the old house my parents left me and Joel. Then I saw Cami every day, saw her smile, heard her laugh, watched her wrap my brother around her sexy little finger. Joel loved it. He loved every damn minute. Now, they’ve made their home in a brand-new house on Lake Erie, like a true family, and I’m left alone to reconsider what the hell I’m doing with my life.

My fists strike again; sweat flies, and I pummel the bag until my hands go numb.

I’m completely soaked as I make my way to The Slam’s gym showers. I pull my favorite t-shirt over my head and toss it on a bench. It’s the one I wore every day, pre-game in college. Ruck me, maul me, make me scrum, is emblazoned on the front and it’s my lucky shirt that hasn’t seen much luck lately, at least not the lady kind.

The Slam as a team, in general, has seen a lot of luck lately. A few sweet endorsement deals have helped pay the mortgage on the facility, and we’re in a good place for another season. A few days ago I finished filming a commercial, so my now-swelling hands won’t be a problem. It will fade before the next deal. The swelling in my dick will be a problem if I don’t take care of it soon. Holding up a can of shaving cream with a hard dick won’t go over well with our endorsers. Three months without a woman, and I’m in bad shape. I haven’t done the dick-ache dance since I was fifteen. At twenty-seven, I’m too fucking old to go through it again.

I turn on the water and wash my shaggy hair, which needs a trim. No one’s around, so I take more than a moment to soap up my dick and give myself some relief. Three fucking months, and my hand is my dick’s new best friend.

I step from the shower dripping wet, and wrap a towel around my waist without bothering to dry myself. The locker room is cool, though much warmer than the temperature outside that announced November is in full swing. It’s the sound of my cell ringing that has me striding quickly to my locker.

A grin spreads across my face when I see who the caller is. What’s up, Danny-girl? You finally wanna piece of this sexy body?

In your dreams, Van. Her husky laugh has my grin widening.

Oh, I dream about your gorgeous hands every day, darlin’, I answer in my low, sexy, come and play voice. Danny and I have known each other since college, though we didn’t become friends until a year ago. She’s three years younger than I am. I interfered when a prick tried to take advantage of her and wouldn’t accept no for an answer. After the fact, Danny got pissed at me because she said she could handle him herself. I know she can now, but back then I just saw a young girl being pushed around. We barely said more than two words to each other after that. Then, a year ago, she volunteered as assistant coach of a peewee rugby team when the other woman who promised to help backed out. We made a good coaching team and became friends. Danny also plays rugby for the women’s team here in Colt, Ohio, and she talks about rugby just like one of the guys. I go to some of her matches and we enjoy meeting up at the local tavern afterward and throwing back a few cold ones. Danny jerks my chain about my love ’em and leave ’em philosophy, and rolls her eyes when I find a suitable candidate. She’ll wave me away and tell me to go do my thing and not to forget to bag it. I tease her non-stop, flirt, and basically act like myself. Danny doesn’t take my shit, and it’s refreshing.

She’s large for a woman—beefy, some would say; tall at about five-ten, with a deeper voice than most ladies. She keeps her straight hair shoulder-length and always wears it in a ponytail. Light freckles sprinkle across her nose and cheeks and her skin is milky-white, which is at total odds with her dark brown hair and dark brown eyes.

I snap back to the phone conversation when her low-toned chuckle fills my ear again. These sexy hands have a match tonight and I thought you might wanna watch.

Hmm. Her hands are not quite what I’d call sexy because they’re too big for my taste. But, damn, they can hold onto a rugby ball, so I give them points. Danny can also drink me under the table, as she’s proven on numerous occasions. I need something to take my mind off my jealousy over my brother’s happy family, so this might be the ticket.

I’m in as long as you share a pint with me after the game at The Slam. The Slam is short for The Slam Tavern and I know she’ll head there anyway.

Wouldn’t miss it. We’ll kick ass in the match, so you can help me buy a round for the losing team.

Winners buy in rugby, and that’s one of the things I love about the sport. You only want me for my beer money, I laugh.

You got it. You’re too pretty for me, so I need to keep you around for something.

I’m still smiling, when only minutes ago I was in the dumps. I’ll see you at the game.

Bye-bye, sugar puss. She makes a loud kissing noise at her end and I disconnect.

Pretty. Danny’s the only person who could ever get away with calling me that. I stride past the full-length mirror a few lockers down from mine and can’t help wondering if my body is all women see when they look at me. It’s not Danny I’m thinking about; she’s not like that. To her, I’m a pretty boy, and I’ve seen the slimy, professional, suited thin guys who seem to be her type.

I’m an inch shorter than my brother, which puts me at six-three. I bust my ass in the gym each day to keep my muscles in peak form. The ladies love trailing their fingers over my abs. They gush over my blue eyes and dimples. I think I’ve heard it all. ‘Oh, Van, smile for me so I can see your dimples. Oh, Van, I melt when you look at me with those eyes’. Funny how I hated my dimples when I was younger and now they’re part of my wet-panty arsenal. Those same women play with my brown hair, especially when it’s on the shaggy side like now. Not that I’m complaining. I love women in similar ways, as long as it’s a one-time thing. I don’t like the cling and I’m far from boyfriend material. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m a man-whore. Once or twice a month I need to get my groove on and I do, or at least I did until a few months ago. During these past months, I haven’t found a woman who interests me.

The happier my brother is, the more I want it—something solid, something real. The women I spend time with in bed are anything but real. I’m tired of the same routine: the same type of women and the same one-night stand with a different hair color.

I dress quickly. With this evening lined up, I decide to put myself through hell and visit my brother and his family. My niece needs me to teach her how to be tough. She’s spoiled rotten and a total girlie girl. She won’t be playing rugby if Joel and Cami keep this up. The pink clothing needs to go.

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Ninety minutes later, I’m standing in my brother’s entryway with Cami.

When are you going to stop buying her boy clothes? she huffs, after peeking inside the small bag I brought with me.

Cami’s beautiful. I know she doesn’t realize just how beautiful, which is one of the things that’s so special about her. Her medium blonde hair curls softly around her face and shoulders, and accents her large green eyes. She’s put on a little weight since having my niece, and it looks good on her. Her boobs look even better, which I can’t help but notice, and I need to get my mind out of the gutter.

When you take her out of girlie shit and teach her to eat a little dirt, I reply as she hands the bag back. "Where’s my brother so I can have