Offside

by Bianca Sommerland

  Scott stopped reaching for his phone, a smile tugging at his lips as he listened to Carter spilling to Becky. The kid probably needed to talk to someone. Scott should have let him know he’d listen. Good to see the boy was happy, though.

  “Fuck no. Once he puts his collar on me, it ain’t comin’ off for nothing. What happened with Mason and Oriana was fucking sad, but they ain’t us. I’d rather be destroyed in the seventh game of the Cup finals than lose either of them. Yes, it’s that serious.” He cleared his throat. “Damn, Becky. Now I need to talk to Seb. Fuck, I can’t wait to go home. I wish I’d stayed there.” He grinned. “Sure, here you go. Give my goddaughter a kiss for me.”

  Taking the phone, Scott slapped Carter’s shoulder, then moved over to the stationary bikes. “Hey, babe.”

  “Hey. I got your text—is everything all right?”

  Her voice, something about her concern being aimed at him, had the ground dropping about a foot under his feet. She was probably just being nice, but maybe . . . maybe it was finally happening. Maybe she really cared.

  “Everything’s fine. Kinda wanted to talk to you.”

  “Kinda?” She let out a sweet, warm laugh that set fire to his blood. Fuck, he wanted to hold her, to tell her—but she continued. “More like testing the waters. I saw your interview and you’re not in trouble. Keane and I spoke about it earlier and agreed to air it. We’d wanted to keep the whole fight between Sahara and Amy off the show, but we might be able to cut out the ugly stuff and keep the drama.”

  “That’s good, I guess . . .” Scott frowned. “So this means Amy won’t be exposed as the heartless cunt she is?”

  “Jesus, Scott. Please don’t use that word. You’re better than that.” She lowered her voice. “And I mean that. When I heard what you said about your foster sister . . . poor girl. Did she get help?”

  “Yes. Eventually.” Sort of. She’d gotten out of the relationship anyway. Last he’d heard, she’d been working in a strip club. That was years ago. Who knew what she was doing now? He’d lost touch with her in his early teens. His brother had given him updates until she disappeared off the grid. She was just one of the many he’d failed in his pathetic life. But Becky didn’t need to hear all that. “Sahara’s not in trouble though, right? You guys get why—”

  “We do. Don’t worry about her. As soon as she gets back, I’ll be working with her on the rest of the program for the Ice Girls’ final competition. She’ll be taken care of.” She paused. “What about you?”

  His brow furrowed. “What about me?”

  “Are you being ‘taken care of’?” Her tone took on a slight edge. Almost like she was nervous bringing it up. “I’m sure you know Zach and I talked?”

  “Yeah. Doesn’t change much. I still need to show how much I’ve—”

  “He doesn’t need another sub, Scott.”

  “I know that.”

  “Do you? Because you’re certainly acting like one. I saw a picture of you with him by the pool—thankfully it didn’t go farther than my desk. The way you were looking at him . . .” She went quiet, and he heard her inhaling slowly. Then let the air out in a laugh. “With how strong you came on before, your being timid surprised me. You have the opportunity to . . .”

  Fuck. She sounded like he’d let her down. Which was freakin’ weird. Was she really that anxious for him to fuck her boyfriend? “Zach ain’t into flings, Becky. You should know that better than anyone. I thought that’s why you chose him over me.”

  “That’s true. But I’ll tell you the same thing I told him. It doesn’t always have to be serious. I’ve been thinking about it a lot and . . . and not everything has to be a full-course meal. I think Zach needs a bit of a snack.”

  Scott pressed his lips together, inhaling slowly. Right. Well, that made sense. Zach liked dick and pussy. Why wouldn’t his sub want him to have access to both while ensuring that she was the one he woke up with in the morning?

  Better than nothing, I guess.

  But . . . “What about you? You want a snack too?”

  “This is about Zach.” Her voice sounded small, and her next words made it clear why. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Whatever happens while you’re on the cruise is between the two of you. I guess part of me thought you were calling for more than an update on Sahara. That maybe you needed to hear from me that it’s really okay.”

  “Yeah, that’s clear. But you didn’t answer my question.”

  “What question?”

  “Not everything’s got to be a full-course meal. That goes for you too, doesn’t it?” Hell, if she wanted to play this way, he wasn’t about to let her back off now. “Enough about him. You’re talking to me. You want a snack, babe? I’ll be fucking cookie dough ice cream, chips, pretzels—all your favorite junk food. I’ll be your naughty indulgence. I’ll be anything you want me to be.”

  “Damn it, Scott. Yes, it’s tempting. And I might eventually . . .” She groaned. “It doesn’t matter. Be that for him. He needs to stop trying to make this into something it will never be.”

  “You let me worry about him. All I want you thinking about is what I’m gonna do to you.” His smile was feral, and he turned his back on Carter when he caught the boy watching him. “I’m gonna rock you’re fucking world, beautiful. Every woman needs that at least one in their lifetime, right?”

  For a really long time, she didn’t answer. He wondered if he’d gone too far. He’d never really classed Becky as one of those women who just wanted a wild ride from him. His own goddamn stupidity. That’s all they ever wanted. No matter how good or sweet they were, they saw right through him, saw all the things they shouldn’t want, but did. And they knew he could give it to them.

  He’d wanted more with Becky, but at least this was something. Something he could hold on to long after she’d forgotten all about him.

  “At least once,” she said quietly. She exhaled. “You’re doing well, with your image, the interviews, everything. Really well. I need you to know that I’m impressed.”

  “I try.” He made small talk, letting her go with a curt promise not let the cameras catch any more pathetic, submissive looks from him. He remembered that moment, how he’d felt looking up at Zach. Maybe a bit like surrendering, like getting on his knees, swearing to do anything, to be anything Zach wanted him to be. Which was nothing more than a good man when it came down to it.

  What a fucking joke. It’s all an act. He dropped his phone in his bag, shaking his head when Carter asked him if he wanted to grab a bite to eat. His stomach was in knots. But that didn’t change a thing. I’ve eventually got to stop pretending to be something I’m not.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Being on deck first thing in the morning to watch the sun rise over the ocean, was one of the best perks of being here. Coffee and fresh ocean spray from the wild waves rising up from the restless sea made Akira feel so awake and alive she tipped her head back, soaking it all in.

  I’m fixed. She laughed out loud, setting her coffee mug down on a nearby table because she needed to move and didn’t want to spill the hot liquid on her white, pleated skirt. Soft music was playing from the speakers above, and she could see the sleepy cameramen creeping out from behind the cabins on the other side of the pool behind her. As the leader of one of the two teams, they probably hoped she’d give them some good footage.

  For the first time, she didn’t resent them for watching her so closely. Her long, slick hair rose up with the wind as she spun around, singing when she recognized the song that had just started up. “If I Die Young” by The Band Perry. Such a sad song, but she wasn’t feeling sad at all. What would be sad would be continuing with the life she’d had before. Short or long, it hadn’t really been living. Part of her had already felt dead, but not anymore. She’d been only sixteen when her life had been . . . not severed, but spoiled in a way she’d never hoped to recover from.

  But she had recovered. She was living—really living—finally!

  The three roses
on the table where she’d left her coffee caught her eye. She took one, still singing and dancing, pulling off the petals to let them fall into the ocean. Not in a “he loves me, he loves me not” kinda way. More as a way to symbolize the freedom she’d experienced. Four years was long enough to be a prisoner to the experience. It was finally over.

  “Akira?”

  And yet, it wasn’t over at all. Her breath caught and she spun around, tripping back against the railing, holding her hands out, panic clawing at her chest. Dave Hunt, the man who’d seen her flirting with Scott as an invitation to one and all, stood just a few feet away. The cameras were still rolling, but the men behind them didn’t seem real. They were like props. There was nothing but her and this man and he saw her. Who she really was.

  Not who she wanted to be.

  “Relax. I’m not going to . . . fuck. I didn’t know.” Dave fisted his hands by his sides. He didn’t look like he wanted to hit her, but she couldn’t know for sure. Her instincts couldn’t be trusted. Even after he held up his hands and stepped back, she was all too aware that she couldn’t run fast enough to get away.

  “Please just leave me alone.” She flattened her hands over the V of her shirt, wishing she’d covered up more. Or better yet, stayed in Dominik’s room. Where she could have kept pretending everything was good. “I’ll scream. I won’t stop screaming! I won’t let this happen again!”

  “Shh . . . sweetie, I won’t touch you.”

  “Hunt.” A hard voice came from her other side. She was surrounded. She whimpered as a shadow fell over her, but the man didn’t touch her. She blinked as Tim stepped between her and Dave. “Get away from her—no, I don’t care that you were trying to make things right. It’s not happening. Not like this. I see you near her again, I’ll throw you over the side of this fucking boat myself.”

  “Coach, I—” Dave hunched his shoulders and nodded. “I’m sorry. That’s all I wanted to say.”

  It was over. Then it wasn’t. Dave turned and a sound, a wild, vicious sound, came from the man who blocked him.

  Ford.

  “You stupid little shit.” Ford grabbed Dave by the back of the neck, jabbing his fist into the other man’s gut. Ford wasn’t quite as tall, or wide, as Dave, but the younger man wasn’t fighting back. An evil smile sliced across Ford’s lips. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”

  He managed to hit Dave in the face, then again in the stomach, before several players poured on to the deck and pulled him away. Dave was on his knees, spitting blood, not even trying to shield himself from the final kick Ford got into his ribs.

  Akira’s stomach heaved as she watched Dave crawl over to the wall and slump against it. The cameras kept rolling. Scott got right up in Ford’s face, snarling at him to “calm down.”

  She’d had enough.

  “You fucking thug!” She shrugged Tim off when he tried to stop her, shoving past the men until she stood in front of Ford. Who did he think he was? He was as bad—if not worse—than Hunt. Jami could be going through all Akira was because of Ford. Because he’d exposed her to men who hurt women and kept quiet because of his “family business.” He might pretend to care about Jami, but he hadn’t protected her. She felt a sting in her palm as she slapped Ford, but it wasn’t enough. She hit him again. And again. “Do you think I’m impressed? You deserve everything you just gave him. Worse! Why are you here?”

  “My sister asked me to come.” Ford’s gaze shifted away from her. There was a lie in there. Or at least an omission. “She still thinks she controls all this. She needed me to make sure everything was going okay after hearing about two girls getting kicked off.”

  “She could have sent someone else. Dean—”

  “She needs him!”

  “She doesn’t need you! No one does! Go back to your father and keep doing his dirty work for him! That’s all you’re good for!”

  Ford winced. Blood dripped down his to his chin from a slit in his lip. “Tell me you don’t really believe that, Akira.”

  “I really do. How could you let that happen to her? You could have stopped it!”

  “I know.” Ford’s jaw hardened. His dropped his gaze to her feet. “Believe me, I’ll never forget it. I don’t deserve her forgiveness. Or yours.”

  Too many people were watching them, but most of the Cobras knew what had happened to Jami. They must—or should—hate Ford as much as Akira did. So she glared at him, speaking nice and clear so he wouldn’t miss a single word. “She still has nightmares.” She swallowed as she caught sight of Luke, standing at the edge of the crowd. He pressed his eyes shut, taking a step back as though she’d slapped him too. She knew he’d been there when Jami woke screaming, still seeing the man who’d been murdered in front of her. “But I bet you sleep fine at night, don’t you, Ford?”

  “I don’t. And I know I can’t make this right.”

  “No. You can’t. And don’t you dare ever forget that either.” She felt like she was ripping new wounds into her own heart. She sobbed as she spotted Dominik, coming toward her, the look in his eyes making every man in his path step aside quickly. “Sir, please. I need to get away from here. I . . . I ruined everything.”

  “No. You haven’t.” Dominik pulled her into his arms. The cotton of his snug, black T-shirt was soft against her cheek, but beneath it was pure steel-corded muscle. God, he was so strong. And she needed his strength. Because hers was gone. “Ford, I don’t give a fuck why you’re here. Stay away from her. We clear?”

  “We’re clear.” She heard Ford say before Dominik led her inside. The world was a blur until she was in his room again, the door cutting her off from everything that she was too weak to deal with. Had always been too weak to deal with. All the hope she’d had was like a blown glass vase smashed on jagged rocks, all the pretty pieces scattered in the dirt.

  “I need a drink.” She took a deep breath and headed toward the minibar. “Five o’clock somewhere, right?”

  “Coffee, Akira.” Dominik went to the table, which held two covered silver trays and another tray with a coffee carafe and cream and sugar. He poured her a cup, arching a brow as he picked up the creamer. He handed her the coffee black when she shook her head. “Talk to me. What happened up there?”

  She took a sip of her coffee, almost spilling it when it burnt her tongue. She scowled into the cup. “I hate him.”

  “I could see that. And I can understand you being angry with him over what happened to Jami, but it’s more than that, isn’t it?” Dominik slid his hand down to her waist as he turned her to face him. “Did he do something to you? Hurt you or—”

  “No! Ford wouldn’t—” Ugh, really? With what he’d done to Jami, how could she be so sure he wouldn’t hurt her? Not that it mattered. He hadn’t.

  Not intentionally.

  “He’s not who I though he was when I first met him.” She shrugged. “I guess I’m more pissed that I misjudged him than anything.”

  Dominik studied her face, nodding slowly. “You have feelings for him.”

  “Had. Past tense.” She hugged herself and leaned against his solid chest. “I’d rather not talk about him. I just wish . . .”

  “Go on,” Dominik whispered, smoothing his hand over her hair.

  “I wish I could feel like I did last night. Or even this morning before—” She rolled her eyes at how naïve she’d been. “I thought I was better. Then Dave came to talk to me, and I had a meltdown. It’s all gone. Everything I thought I’d accomplished—”

  “Is it?” Slight creases formed around Dominik’s eyes as he tilted her chin up with a finger. He brought his lips to hers for a soft kiss. “I couldn’t have done this a week ago.”

  “Mmm.” He’s right. And she loved that he could because his lips, tasting of sweetened coffee and cream, so nice and warm, felt wonderful on hers. She smiled as she rose up on her tiptoes to steal another kiss. “That’s true.”

  He grinned, winding her hair around his fist, holding her still with one arm barred acros
s her back. She let out a surprised yelp as he lifted her up with one hand firmly gripping her ass. “Or this.”

  She swallowed, wrapping her legs around his waist to steady herself. His erection fitting snug between her thighs, with nothing but her panties and his jeans between them, stirred things inside her. Some good. Some more than a little scary. Last night he’d touched her intimately, but it had been all about her pleasure. Her last orgasm had brought things to her lips that she’d never thought she’d say to anyone. She’d practically begged him to take her.

  He’d decided she wasn’t ready. Had he changed his mind?

  “Sir, I want to . . .” She shivered as he brought his lips to her throat, kissing and sucking and grazing his teeth down the length even as he carried her to the grey armchair where he’d made her come over and over the night before. Settling down with her straddling him, he picked up the scarf he’d taken from her.

  “Give me your hands.” His eyes were on her face even as he tied her wrists together in front of her. “How does that feel?”

  She tested the restraints, biting back a smile while she shifted her hips so she could feel more of him against her. “Very, very good, Sir.”

  “Brat.” He gave her thigh a light slap. “Are you afraid now?”

  “No. I could never be afraid of you.”

  He combed his fingers into her hair, bringing her flush with his body. His lips brushed her ear as he spoke. “Do you know what I can do to you? What I want to do to you?”