Crash Into You Read online

  Contents

  Crash Into You

  Crash Into You

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Share Your Thoughts

  Crash Into You © Diana Morland 2016.

  Amazon Kindle Edition.

  Edited by Elizabeth Peters.

  Cover design by Kit Tunstall.

  All rights reserved. No part of this story may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the copyright holder, except in the case of brief quotations embodied within critical reviews and articles.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  The author has asserted his/her rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book.

  First LoveLight Press electronic publication: December, 2016.

  http://lovelightpress.com

  Crash Into You is set in Philadelphia, USA, and as such uses American English throughout.

  Crash Into You

  Roller Derby Romance: Book 1

  Diana Morland

  Chapter 1

  Megan was nearly to the pack, just ahead. She stretched to reach them, her skates whizzing along. She could see the crowd speeding by out of the corner of her eye, she could hear them screaming in excitement, but she couldn’t focus on them. All she could see were the blockers just ahead of her. She’d already made lead jammer; now was the time to start racking up the points.

  The girl at the back of the pack was all in blue and black—on Megan’s team, Monstrous Regiment. She couldn’t see details as she sped past, but she could see the other woman moving up to join her, to clear her way through the other team, Rolling in the Street. They were a new team to her; Monstrous Regiment was playing them for the very first time, now that they’d gotten their WFTDA membership.

  Megan intended to show them that just because they were all members now didn’t mean that they couldn’t be pounded right into the floor.

  She whizzed right past the first woman in red and vaguely heard the crowd noise increase as the announcer shouted, “And the first point goes to Monstrous Regiment, Margaret Splatwood making her way past Britney Scares with no hesitation!”

  But the next blocker was more difficult. She flung her arm out to stop Megan, slowing her down long enough to read her name—Kiss With a Fist.

  That didn’t stop Megan. She had too much momentum and too much adrenaline. It had been another long, nerve-wracking week at work, and Megan wasn’t going to let anything stop her from winning this match for her team.

  Careful not to use her elbows (she did not want to get a penalty during the first jam), she wrangled her way past Kiss With a Fist, spinning on her skates to get past her—but pass her she did.

  The crowd cheered again, the announcer booming barely louder than they were even with amplification. “Another point to Monstrous Regiment! But Jane Bowie Knife is catching up to the pack there—it won’t take much for Rolling in the Street to make this a tie.”

  That strengthened Megan’s determination even more. She put on another powerful burst of speed with her skates. The next blocker’s shirt said Mountain Bruise, and she was thick with curves. Megan was sure she could speed past her, on her left, before she could react.

  But Mountain Bruise was too quick for her. The shorter woman glanced over her shoulder with a red-lipped smirk, then turned sideways, kicking her skate to get just a little backward momentum. Megan collided directly with a lush, well-padded, red-spandex-covered ass.

  The world seemed to slow down as she bounced off Mountain Bruise’s backside, her skates skidding slightly as their momentum was reversed. Her thighs felt warm where the blocker had collided with her. That grin was back on Mountain Bruise’s face, and it was the last thing Megan saw before her skates slid out from under her and she went down onto the floor.

  Time returned to its normal speed and the pack shot past her. Jane Bowie Knife had caught up with the pack now and was wrestling with Mary Shelley’s Monster. She was going to erase Megan’s lead in a moment.

  It wasn’t a bad fall; she’d only had the breath knocked out of her for a second. She jumped back to her feet and took off on her skates again, getting back in bounds and catching up to the pack in no time at all. Jane Bowie Knife had made it past the first blocker, but this time Sir Blocksalot slammed her way through the pack, getting ahead of Jane Bowie Knife and clearing a path for Megan.

  Sir Blocksalot hip-checked Mountain Bruise aside as Megan caught up to them. It was hard to argue with Sir Blocksalot’s broad frame packed with muscle; Megan grinned at Mountain Bruise as she whipped past. That was three more Rolling in the Street players she’d passed, and she wasn’t going to let a little fall get in her way.

  Mountain Bruise just grinned back.

  The girls ran at each other and collapsed in the middle of the locker room, a huge, hugging, screaming, pile. “Three, two, one,” called Shelly, the team captain, and together they all screamed, “MONSTERS!”

  “Great job out there, ladies!” Shelly screamed. “Let ’em know that the Monstrous Regiment are the rulers of them all! Now let’s get shitfaced and recover!”

  Megan screamed along with all the rest of them. She was covered in sweat, she had at least three new bruises forming, and she couldn’t be happier.

  The Monstrous Regiment had just thoroughly beaten Rolling in the Streets, 209 to 76. Megan hadn’t skated in every jam, but she’d been jammer in almost a third—nearly a hundred of those points were hers. And she hadn’t let Mountain Bruise knock her down again. They just seemed to brush past each other… a lot.

  She could still feel warmth where Mountain Bruise’s hand had brushed against her lower back in the last jam. Probably just sweat. She needed to change.

  Megan spat out her mouth guard, then pulled off her helmet, followed by her gloves, and tossed them into her bag. Kristine—or Patty Whack, another of the team’s jammers—clapped her on the shoulder. “Really nice work out there, Splatwood.”

  Megan grinned and clapped Kristine’s shoulder in return. “Not too bad yourself, Patty. I loved the way you got low to get under Kiss with a Fist’s arm.”

  Kristine snorted. “Yeah, right. I didn’t do anything special—I’m just short. The way you matched Gayle’s skates perfectly so the pack couldn’t stop you from getting through in the first jam—now that was impressive.”

  Megan laughed, but she appreciated the compliment. Roller derby was everything to her, and she had been working extra hard the last few months. It was nice to not only feel the practice paying off, but know that other people could see it, too.

  They chatted while they stripped out of their derby uniforms. Shelly came by halfway through to pat them on the backs. “Good work, both of you. Anybody injured? All your joints all working correctly?”

  “All good here,” Megan reported, flexing her fingers, toes, elbows, and knees. She was bruised in plenty of places, but none of those bruises were likely to interfere with her movement. Dealing with bruises she could do—she was very familiar with brui
ses.

  “Your ass okay after that fall early on?” Shelly asked.

  “It’s fine, but if you want to kiss it and make sure, that’s okay with me,” Megan said, smirking and grabbing her T-shirt from the locker she was using.

  Shelly laid a kiss on her forehead instead. “You want a ride to the bar? We’re meeting Rolling in the Streets there.”

  “Sounds good,” Megan said, not willing to pass up the offer of a ride but suddenly nervous. They’d gone drinking with the opposing teams in the past, so what was bothering her now? It might just be that Rolling in the Streets had been beaten so thoroughly. She knew she shouldn’t gloat, but it might be hard to avoid it.

  As she put her normal clothes back on, her mind wandered back, again, to the embarrassing way she’d bounced off Mountain Bruise’s ass in the first jam. That padding must be a real asset—no pun intended—to her team. Mountain Bruise probably hadn’t even felt it, and Megan had gone head-over-heels, her gangly arms and legs unable to catch enough air to slow her fall.

  Megan shook her head at herself. She might be tall, but she was fast and she could slip through gaps. She was one of the reasons her team had beaten the opposition so hard today, and she wasn’t going to let a set of lush curves distract her from that.

  Chapter 2

  As soon as Megan walked into the bar behind Shelly, someone shoved a beer bottle into her hand. She lifted it in the air to toast her benefactor—Lisa, also known as Jenny Greenteeth and the oldest member of the team—and then pulled it to her mouth to guzzle half the bottle. She was too anxious and tense, even after pouring out all her adrenaline into the game. The alcohol would help her loosen up.

  With that in her system, she moved further into the room. It was crowded, but most of the people there were derby girls. Megan either knew them from the team or recognized them from tonight’s game. Of course, her eyes picked out Mountain Bruise immediately. The curvy blocker was bent over, legging-covered ass provocatively in the air as she talked to… a little kid, actually.

  Was there really a kid in the bar? She was wearing a pink ballerina outfit, complete with tulle tutu, and she looked perfectly happy to be talking to Mountain Bruise. It was pretty adorable, actually. Megan felt her heart flutter a little bit. She rolled her eyes at herself and took another swig of her beer.

  When she lowered her head again, there was another woman bending over the little girl and lifting her up in her arms. Megan was pretty sure she was another player on Rolling in the Streets—something like Kate? One of them was probably the kid’s mom, then.

  She turned away to scan the rest of the room. There were plenty of other interesting people here to talk to. She found Kristine, Tara, and Gayle talking in a small knot and went to join them.

  “Hey there, Blocksalot,” she said, slinging an arm around Gayle’s broad shoulders. “My heroine.”

  Gayle laughed and pushed Megan’s arm off her shoulders. “Get off me, tall and skinny.”

  Megan pretended to pout. Tara laughed at her and said, “I watched you guys. That was pretty impressive. Had you ever rehearsed following each other like that?”

  “Rehearsed it?” Gayle said. “I didn’t even know she was behind me until we’d passed two blockers. I was just trying to get to the front of the pack to be an impenetrable wall in case Jane Bowie Knife made it through.”

  “My name is Ruth,” said Jane Bowie Knife, joining their circle with a fruity-looking drink in her hand. “Nice to meet all of you. That was a really good game.”

  The four members of Monstrous Regiment introduced themselves, shook Ruth’s hand, and complimented her, but Megan knew they were just being polite. Ruth had gotten a few points for her team, but it was hard to be generous about another team’s performance after the way they’d just flattened them.

  In fact, after a few more exchanges, Megan lost interest in the conversation and walked away to look for another beer. She didn’t want to hang around and make nice with the other team. She wanted to revel in victory and spend half the day tomorrow sleeping it off before she had to go back to work on Monday.

  When she had her new beer in her hand and turned away from the bar, she found herself face-to-face with Mountain Bruise. Her breath hitched and she took an involuntary half-step back. The other woman was short, but she had an enormous presence that had little to do with the size of her ass—or her tits, which, as Megan could now see, were equally magnificent, shown off to great effect in a black V-neck shirt.

  “Hi,” Mountain Bruise said, her mouth curving in a wicked grin. She’d removed her bright makeup, but the smile was still the same one she’d worn on the track. “I figured I could introduce myself to you now that we’re not fighting against each other. You’re damn good.”

  Megan grinned at her, trying—but sure she was failing—to put the same degree of confidence and insouciance in her own smile. “Yeah, you, too. Or at least your ass is.”

  Dammit, why couldn’t she be confident and competent at anything other than roller derby? She’d worked so hard at it, and she knew she was good, and it had made a huge difference in her life—but she still stumbled over her tongue when she spoke, and she still couldn’t find anything her life she was good at except for roller derby.

  Oh well, maybe that didn’t matter. All she needed was derby. Work 40 hours a week, derby 20, that was a good balance. As long as those paychecks kept her in derby gear and booze.

  Mountain Bruise laughed loudly, flinging her hand into the air—the hand that wasn’t holding her red wine. “Oh, that’s a good one! Yeah,” she continued, slapping her own ass so that it jiggled, “those hours I’ve put in training with wine and lasagna have really paid off.”

  Megan had meant it as more of an insult, but she laughed along anyway and swigged her beer. Even her insults didn’t come out right. Could Mountain Bruise tell that Megan was seriously attracted to her? It felt wrong to be so into the opposition. She had to get away.

  With her head tilted back, she darted her gaze around the room. Who could she go talk to as an excuse to escape from her rival?

  There was Helen—she’d played pivot to Megan’s blocker a few times tonight, and once Megan had ended up having to pass her the star, giving up the lead jammer position to her teammate. She could use the excuse of wanting to talk tactics with her. The passing hadn’t gone as smoothly as it could have; it would be useful to talk to Helen anyway.

  “Mountain Bruise—” she started.

  “It’s Gianna,” the other player said, holding her hand out confidently. “And I’m guessing your name isn’t really Margaret. Though I could be wrong about that—our pirate girls use their real first names.”

  “Uh, no, it’s Megan,” Megan said, reaching out awkwardly to shake Gianna’s hand. The other woman’s fingers were just as plump as the rest of her, and her grip was firm and aggressive. Megan felt herself just a little more attracted, even if she was also confused. “I just really like Margaret Atwood.”

  “Me, too,” Gianna said, her eyes lighting up. “The Handmaid’s Tale was practically life-changing.”

  “Literally life-changing,” Megan said, her heart seeming to twist a little. Her rival loved Margaret Atwood too?

  Gianna nodded hard. “It really puts a mirror on society. Once I’d read it, I knew what people were talking about when they complained about the patriarchy.”

  “Exactly.” Megan grinned back at her for a moment before remembering they were rivals. She had to get away and talk to Helen—but first she needed to understand what Gianna had been talking about a minute ago. “Who are the pirate girls?”

  “Mary Read and Grace O’Malley,” Gianna said, turning—she swiveled her whole body from the hips—to point at two girls who looked to be older teens, both of them with pale red hair and freckles. “They’re sisters, and their names really are Mary and Grace.”

  Megan nodded. She remembered seeing those two on the track. “They work well together.”

  “They ought to, they grew u
p that way. We’re going to flatten you next time, you know.”

  Megan laughed. She was on familiar territory again. “You wish. We creamed the floor with you today. You couldn’t practice enough to get ahead of us.” She took a swig of her beer. It was empty already. She groped around for the bar to put it out of her way.

  “Oh yeah?” Gianna looked Megan up and down until Megan felt tingles throughout her spine. “I think we can work as hard as you. Harder.” Her smile changed—tightened. The smack talk was just beginning.

  Megan crossed her arms. “I’ll believe it when I see it. And we’re ready to knock you down on the track as many times as it takes to convince you otherwise.” Now she was in her element—these might be words, but the words were about roller derby. Adrenaline rushed through her. It wasn’t quite the heady, addictive feeling she got from derby itself, but it sure felt good.

  “I’m ready to get up just as many times as you knock me down, babe.” Gianna winked. “When do you practice?”

  “Every Tuesday night, Thursday night, and Saturday morning. More in the off-season, when we’re not playing every weekend. Otherwise we’ll get flabby and out of shape.” She raised her eyebrows. Maybe this time Gianna would take the insult as it was meant.

  “Hmm.” Gianna gulped down her wine, until her glass, too, was empty. She reached past Megan to place it on the bar, her arm—and then her breasts—brushing against Megan’s elbow. Megan dropped her arms and stepped to the side, getting out of the way.

  But Gianna turned to her again. “You look like you’re in pretty good shape to me.” Then she stepped forward, right into Megan’s personal space, put one hand on the back of her neck, and pulled her head down to kiss her.

  Surprised—and already turned on—Megan kissed her back, their lips hot and wet, tangy with their respective drinks. She could feel Gianna’s incredible curves just barely brushing against her and longed to get closer to them.

  But she shouldn’t—she couldn’t. Gianna was—