Offside

by Bianca Sommerland

  “No regrets?” he whispered as he rolled her on to her side.

  “None.” Her brow furrowed as something nagged at the back of her mind. For some reason, Silver’s words came back to her as she lay in Zach’s arms. “I thought you were gay!” Her deep need to please him was mostly satisfied, but she couldn’t help but wonder if she could be enough considering what she knew. “I just . . . you enjoy women. And men. Have you ever just been with one or the other?”

  “Yes.” He pushed up to brace his elbow on the wood floor, his head on his hand. “Why?”

  “One is enough?”

  “It is. But . . .” He avoided her gaze as she sat up. “It hasn’t always been enough for the ones I’m with. They always wondered if I needed more. But I didn’t. When I’m with someone, they are all I need. Can you accept that? Do you trust that I don’t need more?”

  “I do.” She spoke without thinking twice, because she knew Zach wasn’t the type of man to stray. If he was with someone, he wouldn’t be looking for anything else. But still, she wondered if he wasn’t cutting off part of himself because of how he believed a relationship should be. She still had so much to learn about him, but from what she knew, he had two parents who were very supportive. Who had shown him what a normal, stable relationship was. She’d seen men who couldn’t admit to being gay, and Zach didn’t come off as one of those. She could easily picture him telling his parents that he was attracted to men, could see them telling him they would love him, no matter what. But could he accept needing more? With being with someone who could accept his needs?

  He smoothed her hair away from her sweat slicked cheeks. “What is it?”

  “We’ve agreed to be honest with each other, right?”

  His brow creased. He nodded.

  “If ever . . .” She held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t take what she was about to say the wrong way. “If you needed something I couldn’t give you, you’d tell me?”

  “I’d never cheat on you, Becky.” His tone went hard, as though he was insulted by whatever he assumed she thought. “I’ll never need more than you.”

  “I know that, but . . . if I told you I never want to try certain things, will you be upset if I change my mind after? If I suddenly decide there’s nothing wrong with trying?”

  “It’s not the same at all. An experience isn’t another person.”

  “But it could be.”

  He shook his head, then sat up, rubbing his hand over his mouth. “If you want a threesome, I will find someone I trust not to come between us. But it will be something you want to try, not something I need. All I need is to make you happy.”

  She ground her teeth, not sure what to do with his “point finale” attitude. What if she was making an issue where there was none? All she needed was to make him happy. And she was open to whatever it took. But as long as he wasn’t, they were at an impasse. “You’re telling me you could go the rest of your life without touching another man?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.” He stood and pulled on his jeans with quick, jerky motions, his tone clipped. “As for honesty? I’m not sure how to deal with everyone assuming I need a man in my life. I’ve had several, but they never meant as much to me as you do.”

  “Don’t think I don’t love hearing that, Zach.” She rose, naked, from the floor, then slipped her hands around the back of his neck. “I couldn’t deal with you being with another woman. Which will sound odd considering what I’m about to say. I’ll admit, I have my own possessive streak. I can be jealous, and it’s going to be hard to let you go on that cruise, knowing all those Ice Girls will be all over you for photo ops. But if there was a man . . . a man I felt could give you even half of what I can—who wouldn’t ruin what we have—”

  “Please, please don’t say that.” His kiss was almost desperate as he held her against him. “Don’t say it’s okay just to have yourself wondering if I’m with someone else when I’m not with you.”

  “But it is okay.” She closed her eyes, thinking it over carefully. It really was. So long as he was honest with her. And himself. “The man better be something special though. Otherwise—”

  “Stop.” Zach groaned as the doorbell sounded. “Shit. I forgot to tell you . . .”

  She checked her watch, frowning. The truck was early? “Forgot to tell me what?”

  “You said you wanted Scott to help move everything.” Zach rolled his shoulders, as though to shrug off all the tension of everything they’d said. As though just saying Scott’s name meant nothing to him. His detached body language was all lies. She knew better. But he gave her a disarming smile, staring at the wall behind her. “I would have called someone else, but you asked for him.”

  Because I’m an idiot. She swore under her breath as she quickly pulled on her clothes, trying to put her matted hair into some semblance of order even as she skirted away from Zach and hurried downstairs. She hadn’t gotten a chance to tell Zach that Scott was with someone else. To tell him if he was interested in any man, she prayed it wasn’t Scott. Because Scott couldn’t stand by one person long enough to care about them. And she refused to let anyone else close to Zach unless they were worthy. Not a stance that a sub should take, but she was more than a sub with Zach. The first whispers of the words she wished she could say came to her as she twisted the doorknob. I think I love him. And if you don`t . . . you need to stay away.

  Scott stepped over the threshold, sighing as he caught the cold look on her face. “We should talk.”

  “No. We shouldn’t.” She glanced toward the stairs as she heard Zach coming down, then spoke in a rush. “You need to understand something. Zach and I are serious about one another. And I know you can’t be serious about anything. So let’s make something clear.”

  “Sure.”

  “Be his friend. His teammate.” She met Scott’s eyes, holding his gaze to make sure he understood. “But that’s it. You had a chance with him and you blew it.”

  “Crystal clear, babe.” Scott let out a self-deprecating laugh. “Just like I blew it with you. That it?”

  She shook her head. This wasn’t about her. She wouldn’t let it be. “You never had anything with me.”

  “Right. Well, I’m not here to piss you off.” Scott stared at his worn sneakers, then glanced over his shoulder as the truck pulled up. “I’m just here to move your stuff.”

  His failure to flirt and tease made her feel like she was kicking a wounded puppy. He hadn’t done anything to make her so defensive. It was what he could do that worried her.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so bitchy . . .” She bit her bottom lip as he shrugged. Fuck, who is this guy? Scott always had a comeback. She gave him a hesitant smile and nudged his shoulder with her fist. “Hey, you all right? Not having trouble with your girlfriend already, are you? To be honest, I was a little surprised to see you with Sahara, but she seems like a nice girl. It would be good to see you settle down.”

  “Sahara?” Zach repeated as he made his way down the stairs. He shoved his hands in his pockets, regarding Scott like he would any other teammate. “She’s from New York, isn’t she? You haven’t been—?”

  One side of Scott’s lips quirked up as he shook his head. “Naw, I haven’t been traded. Yet. Keane got Sahara to sign with our Ice Girls.”

  “And Scott gave her a place to stay.” Becky shot her brightest smile up at Zach, ignoring his frown. “Isn’t he a sweetheart?”

  Scott snorted. “You know me better than that, Becky. I don’t do sweet. I wouldn’t have a chick staying with me without perks.”

  Becky swallowed, forcing her smile to stay in place, even though she was sure it must look like it had been welded on to her face. “I’m sure Sahara knows all about your reputation.”

  “I’m sure she does.”

  “Whatever makes you happy.”

  “Being a fucking male whore. That’s what makes me happy.” Scott’s smile looked just as fake as hers was. His gaze snapped to Zach. “Can we
get this over with?”

  Zach put his hand on Becky’s shoulder, his brow creasing as he studied her face. He didn’t look too happy with whatever he saw. “Yes. Let’s.”

  Honesty. That’s all Zach wanted from her. But how could she be honest with him about her feelings for Scott when she couldn’t figure them out for herself.

  There’s nothing to figure out. You feel nothing.

  But she couldn’t say that. Because she did know how she felt about Zach. And she cared too much about him to lie.

  Chapter Eleven

  A sharp floral aroma hit Scott as the heavy blanket of sleep dissolved. He groaned, turning his head to the side avoid the scent. If he opened his eyes, he would see her in a transparent nightgown, her lashes still caked with mascara, rum on her breath. Her heavy breasts would crush his chest as she climbed over him. Her claw-like nails would rake his stomach as she sought what she’d come for. Maybe she’d leave him alone if he pretended he was still sleeping.

  There’s my good boy. Did you miss me?

  Bile rose in his throat. He shook his head, eyes pressed shut. “No.”

  “Scott?”

  Soft. Her hand felt so soft, touching his cheek. She would be good to him if he gave her what she wanted. But it felt like she was smothering him. Everywhere at once, her hands, her body, until he couldn’t wash away the stink of her. He wanted her to stop, but she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t stop unless he made her, and he never could.

  He bared his teeth, eyes snapping open as he shoved her away. “I said no!”

  Big blue eyes stared down at him. A small woman, smaller than him, not bigger. Cringing, Sahara shuffled back, holding her hands up as she whispered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  Fuck. It was Sahara, not—He moved slowly, making a soft, hushing sound. “Damn, I’m sorry, hun. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  “No, I’m fine.” Sahara approached the bed, her smile a little too bright as she perched on the edge of the bed, looking ready to make a run for it if he moved. “I . . . uh, just wanted to know if you wanted to come out with me. You looked really bummed out when you came in.”

  “Yeah, it’s been a shitty day.” Scott threw his legs over the other side of the bed. He was just wearing boxers, but if Sahara was gonna stay here, she’d have to get used to it. He stood and stretched, glancing over his shoulder at her. “What time is it?”

  “Almost midnight.”

  “Midnight?” He blinked at her. “And you want to go out?”

  “Why not?” She shrugged, flushing as he stared at her. “I figured you were just taking a nap.” She fidgeted with the hem of her pleated black miniskirt. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

  Poor kid’s lonely. Must be bad if she wants to hang out with me. He gave her a crooked grin and shook his head. “Naw, it’s all right. Just shout next time. Slam some doors or something. Not used to people creeping into my bed.”—Anymore—“People that sleep with me are usually passed out drunk.”

  Her cheeks reddened. She chewed at her thumbnail. “I’ll keep that in mind, but . . . were you having a nightmare?”

  “Actually, I was. Kinda. Sexy woman fucked me to death. Seems like a way to go, huh?”

  “Yeah. No.” She snorted. “You’re such a guy.” She hopped off the bed. “You coming or what?”

  “Can I get dressed?”

  She looked him over, tapping her bottom lip with a finger. “Why bother? You’ll be naked by the end of the night anyway.”

  He arched a brow as he pulled some black jeans and a white T-shirt from his dresser, glancing at her over his shoulder. “You hitting on me, roomie?”

  “Hell no. If we fuck, I’ll have nowhere to stay!” She winked at him, smoothing out her tiny skirt as she stood. “I was hoping to take over the bed tonight.”

  He rolled his eyes. He hadn’t been sure about letting her crash at his place until she found a place of her own, but she was fun to have around. And not as annoying as he’d thought she’d be. Except for the fact that she’d hauled blankets and a pillow to the sofa the night before, ignoring his efforts to be a gentleman and let her take the bed. “I said you could have it.”

  “I know. And I will when you’re sleeping elsewhere.” She sighed when he rolled his eyes again. “It would feel weird to have you sleeping on the sofa in your own house. I appreciate you giving me a place to stay without expecting anything in return.”

  Yeah, that was weird. Sahara was a hot little piece, completely available, and yet he hadn’t even tried to get in her pants. Something was seriously wrong with him. If he kept this up, people were gonna start thinking he was decent.

  There’re only two people I want thinking that. And they couldn’t care less.

  He rubbed his hand over his face, a smile forming as though molded in clay. Sahara waking him up was a good thing. He needed a fucking drink. A nice, numbing buzz to get Becky and Zach out of his head.

  “We taking my car or you planning on drinking tonight?” he asked after slipping into his well-worn sneakers.

  Sahara laughed. “Let’s take a cab. I’m getting plastered.”

  He nodded and took his phone out to call a cab, eyeing Sahara as she frowned at him all the way to the elevator. What had he done now? “Something wrong?”

  She shrugged, hooking one finger to the thin strap of her little black purse. “Guess not. It’s just weird that you didn’t even comment. I’m not sure whether or not to be insulted that you’re not hitting on me.”

  “You want me to?”

  “I’m not sure. If you did, at least I’d know you’re okay.”

  The edge of his lip quirked and he threw his arm over her shoulder, kissing her forehead as they went out to the street to meet the cab. “You’re a sweet little thing. Don’t you worry, by the time you move out, I’ll have had you in my bed, with your ankles behind your ears, at least once.”

  “Ugh.” She shoved him away, laughing. “I should have kept my mouth shut. You haven’t changed at all!”

  He winced as she ducked into the backseat of the cab.

  Maybe not. But I’m trying.

  * * * *

  The bar was bigger than the one Ford Kingsley—or Delgado, whatever—had owned before, but the name and the style was pretty much the same. Lots of gleaming metal and leather. A shiny, dark wood bar that took up most of one wall. The biggest difference was the huge dance floor and the DJ booth. The crowd. And the music. Scott made a face as he trailed Sahara to the bar, the techno slash pop mix enough to make him want to turn around and find his drunken stupor from a bottle of hard liquor in a brown paper bag on a street corner.

  Would suit his mood better anyway.

  “What are you doing with this loser, Sahara?” Ford asked as he came to take their order. He dropped the rag he’d been drying glasses with and rested his forearms on the bar. “Slumming?”

  Sahara hooked her arm to Scott’s. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  Not really a compliment, but Scott didn’t care enough to comment. He put in an order for a scotch on the rocks, then leaned his back against the bar, looking over the bar’s patrons with detached interest. An older woman did her best to catch his eye. Something about the predatory curve of her blood red lips made him feel like long, icy worms were crawling under his flesh. He rolled his shoulders and swallowed hard as the images from his nightmare flashed through his skull. He’d done nice, curvy older women before, but after the warped dreams, he tended to stick to men for a while.

  Taking a deep breath, he narrowed his search for some hot young stud who might provide some much needed distraction. So long as Stephan never found out. But none of these men were Zach and—fuck—that was some high standard to set. Why hadn’t he set that standard before? When it would have actually mattered?

  While Sahara danced and he finished his first two drinks, three women hit on him, and one guy covertly tested the waters. He shot them all down, only tempted once. A woman with auburn hair and blue eyes that lo
oked almost grey under the black lights drew him into a conversation, and he found himself laughing for real for the first time in days as she teased him. It reminded him of how things had been with Becky before he’d fucked that up. He bought her a drink, ready to seal the deal, ignoring the irritating voice in his head that said she was nothing but a shallow replacement for Becky.

  “This will be my last one,” The woman, whose name he’d already forgotten, said with a coy smile. “Got to get up with my brats in the morning.”

  Scott went still. He didn’t care that the woman had kids—all he could think of was how Becky was with Casey. The way she’d talked about her baby while they were setting up the little girl’s room.

  “I really need to do something about all these toys. I’d get rid of some, but she loves them so much. You should see her tea parties.” Her eyes had teared up. Zach had hugged her. “God, I miss her.”

  The love Becky showed for her daughter was all Scott had ever wanted as a kid. He had no idea what it was like to be a parent—hell, maybe it was normal to get sick of your kids—but the little interest he’d had in the woman at his side had died.

  “It’s been nice talking to you.” Scott inclined his head at the woman, then walked away without a backward glance, not even sure where he was going. Sahara shouted for him to join her on the dance floor, giggling as a lanky, fairly handsome man pulled her into his arms. He shook his head, then caught sight of someone familiar, sitting alone at a table by the windows with a bottle of jack and a shot glass. He grinned as he headed over, pulling out a chair and making himself comfortable. The big black man didn’t look all that happy to see him.