“Is this okay? I wanted to do something special for your birthday, something that would make you feel stronger before the cruise.” Her noise wrinkled. “I was gonna stay with you, but Dominik said it wouldn’t do you much good to have me glued to your side the entire time. And when I saw Luke and Sebastian—”
“This is perfect!” Akira hissed in a breath as Shawn danced close behind her. Not too close though. It was like all the men had been given very specific instructions. None would touch her. She’d actually had to grab Scott’s hands to put them on her waist during “Bump N’ Grind.” He’d laughed and smacked her butt, making her jump and giggle. And gave her a sense of freedom she hadn’t felt for so long. She could be like any other girl, flirting and having fun.
“You good?” Jami gave Shawn a hard look, and he backed off enough that she couldn’t feel him behind her anymore. Almost immediately, Scott was there, dancing like everything was cool, but watching her like a guard dog.
“I’m fine!” Akira rolled her eyes. “You missed your man, Jami! Dance with him! Don’t worry about me!”
Sebastian joined them, and Akira could feel his eyes on her as she tugged Scott close and grinded back against Shawn. Everyone was so worried. But she was perfect. She felt powerful, as if everything that had been holding her back had finally let her go.
Still, part of her stayed trapped, looking for the man who wasn’t here. Who shouldn’t be.
And a quiet, secret part of her wished he was.
* * * *
Leaving Ramos and Carter to keep an eye on Akira, Scott headed out to the parking lot for some fresh air. A few too many drinks, a bit too much exposed male flesh, was making him feel reckless. Seeing the warning in Ramos’ eyes when he’d caught Scott checking out Carter’s ass had helped sober him enough to take a break. He had a feeling Ramos wouldn’t be sharing the boy anytime soon. If ever. And the naughty fun he’d had with Jami before the summer had likely been a onetime thing. There was something tangible between the three, stronger than before—a connection that left no room for outside play.
He took a deep inhale and pressed his eyes shut, laughing at himself for getting all worked up just watching a guy dance that he’d seen naked in the showers a hundred times.
Desperate much?
Hell, he couldn’t help but look, even though he knew very well he wouldn’t find what he needed from just anyone. Which left him a little antsy, like he had an itch somewhere he couldn’t reach and no one would scratch for him. Things had been so much simpler when he could fuck whoever, whenever, get his rocks off, and move on with his life. Sex had never meant anything. It was just something he did.
Not anymore.
Why though? Why did proving himself feel like more of a commitment than being in an actual relationship? Maybe he should just do what everyone expected of him. Fuck Sahara or some random bunny of either sex. Get it over with.
You’ve got no one to impress.
No one at all.
Steady footsteps came from behind and he caught a whiff of cigarette smoke. He bit into his tongue, the cravings he hadn’t had since he’d quite at nineteen adding to the irritation of everything else he’d denied himself. He glanced over his shoulder and spotted Ford, in a thin leather jacket despite the heat, a few days’ worth of stubble darkening his sharp features.
Ford arched a brow, then gestured with the pack he’d been stuffing into the pocket of his black jeans. He pulled one out when Scott nodded.
“Everything okay in there?” Ford asked as he lit Scott’s cigarette.
Scott shrugged and took a long drag. Letting the smoke out slowly, he angled toward the door, clearing his throat as the urge to cough tickled his throat. “Akira seems happy.”
“Good.” Ford puffed on his cigarette, his expression thoughtful. “She deserves to be happy.”
“You going in to see her?”
“I was thinking about it.” Ford flicked his cigarette, his features tense as he brought it to his lips again. “Not sure if I should though.”
“Why the fuck not? I thought you, Jami, and her were all friends.” Scott rolled his tongue around his mouth, wondering what the appeal of smoking had been. His mouth tasted like he’d taken a big bite of charred toast. “Go on in. I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you.”
Letting out a sharp laugh with a cloud of smoke, Ford shook his head. “Guess you didn’t hear how it was my fault Jami got grabbed. Akira can’t stand me.”
Interesting. Scott had heard some stuff about what had happened to Jami but nothing about Ford. He could see Akira holding a grudge if Ford had somehow been involved—she was damn loyal, but that didn’t explain why Ford had come to see her on her birthday. “I’m missing something.”
“Yeah, well . . .” Ford dropped his cigarette and crushed it under his heel, which made Scott feel better about doing the same. “We almost had something. Figure she’s got to forgive me someday.” He gave the clear sky above a grim look. “Maybe.”
“She’s in a pretty good mood now. Might as well give it a shot.” Scott couldn’t help but hope Ford had some success. From what he knew about the guy, he was a fucking thug. But still decent. Hell, he’d saved the team by bringing in Keane. He was trying to go legit.
And if he could pull it off, maybe Scott had a chance.
There was doubt in Ford’s eyes, but he inclined his head and followed Scott into the club. Someone had brought out a smoke machine, and a thin cloud covered the dance floor as couples swayed to “Collide” by Howie Day. He saw Jami and Luke in the center of the dance floor, gazing into each other’s eyes in a way that made him feel like an asshole for even considering . . .
Ford’s hand on his shoulder kept him from going any farther. As he glanced back, Ford gestured to something in the room, beyond the dance floor. Akira, with Pischlar, her cheeks flushed as she held out her hands to let him do some fancy knot work under Ramos’ supervision. He was only lacing the slender rope through her fingers, loosely tying her hands together with her sitting across the small table from him, but the taste of restraint seemed to be a little too much for her. The color left her face as he finished the last knot.
Scott felt Ford move behind him but blocked him before he could pass. Dominik was already there, cutting the ropes, then pulling Akira into his arms. Ford stiffened, but it wasn’t until Akira laughed and wiggled away from Dominik to pull Pischlar toward the dance floor that he took a step back. Scott winced as he watched Akira clasp Pischlar’s face in her hands, saying something with a big smile on her face—probably assuring him she was all right. He could just imagine what was going through Ford’s head. She’d decided on a good, safe man.
The better man.
“Ford . . .” Scott followed the other man back out to the parking lot, snatching the lighter Ford flicked several times without a spark, lighting the cigarette for him. He shook his head as Ford offered him the pack. “You gotta know that meant nothin’. She’s not ready for—”
“Fuck!” Ford sucked at the cigarette, then hissed smoke out through his teeth. “I want this for her. I want to know she’s okay. I just thought . . .” He sighed. “Doesn’t matter. Have yourself a good night, Scott.”
“Hey, you’re not seriously giving up, are you?”
“No.” Ford stared at his cigarette, then snapped it and tossed it aside. “I don’t think I can.”
Scott nodded slowly. He knew exactly where the other man was coming from. “So what now?”
“Now? Nothing.” Ford hung his head, shoulders bowed as though something heavy had just settled on them. “She’s too good for me. She might be happy with him, but if not, I ain’t going anywhere.”
Maybe their situations weren’t as similar as he’d thought. Scott wasn’t looking for Becky to give up on Zach. He wanted them both.
Still, it came down to the same thing. He was willing to wait until he fit into her life. Into their lives.
For as long as it took.
Chapter Twelve
<
br /> On hands and knees, Becky polished the living room floor, a sweet contentment flowing through her as she glanced up at Zach, who sat on the sofa half watching a baseball game. His hooded gaze kept slipping to her, sliding over her as though she interested him much more than the ninth inning. A blush heated her cheeks and she ducked her head, scrubbing a little harder.
This was the last day they’d be spending together for a while. Casey would come home tomorrow, and Zach would head out on the cruise in a week. He’d asked her to spend the night at his place and surprised her with a cute little maid uniform.
“My place is a mess,” he’d said with a smile.
It really wasn’t. For a man, Zach was quite tidy. But that wasn’t the point. Doing this for him wasn’t a chore. As she’d dusted and polished, all she could think of was how nice everything would look for him. There was something deeply satisfying about it, which most would probably find odd, but Zach took her actions in stride, so she didn’t feel weird indulging in her need to serve him. She loved that he didn’t constantly thank her, or really even acknowledge that she was doing anything extraordinary. She didn’t want him to think she was doing this for attention. For gratitude.
The translucent white lace covering her breasts teased her nipples into hard little points as she rubbed wax into the hard wood floors until they shone. The ruffled trim of the skirt tickled the skin at the top of her thighs, and a light draft cooled the dampness between them. Okay, so maybe she was getting something out of this after all. Playing the maid, on her knees so close to Zach, dressed up for him, exposed for his pleasure, was erotic and a little naughty. He hadn’t given her panties with the outfit. He could see how wet she was.
Their game would probably end soon. He’d want to take care of her. Which would ruin everything.
She held back a sigh as he picked up the remote and paused the game. Not that she’d mind him making love to her—at all—but she’d sunk into a comfortable zone where what she could give was all that mattered. She needed to stay here, just a little longer. If he focused on her pleasure—
“Look at me, pet.” His tone was firm, and once she met his eyes, she found herself trapped in them, waiting for his command, all else forgotten. His lips curved as he unzipped his jeans. His dick was long and thick, the head slightly darker than the shaft. She licked her lips and sat back on her heels. He reached out to touch her cheek. “I want those beautiful lips around my cock. My house looks better than it ever has, but it’s a waste to have you here, looking so sexy, doing nothing besides cleaning.”
All her doubts evaporated. A throbbing ache settled low in her core as she nodded and positioned herself between his parted thighs. He caressed her hair as she took him in her mouth and she shivered, the tenderness in the gesture shifting everything inside her. She flicked her tongue over the tip of his cock, already slick and salty, and let out a soft sound as his hand moved down to the nape of her neck. He guided her motions, urging her to take him deeper, creating a steady rhythm where it wasn’t so much giving him pleasure that fulfilled her, but giving up control. She stopped thinking about how much better it would be to do things for him. The tension went out of her shoulders as she let go of all her resistance, simply letting him handle her, enjoying the smooth texture of his hot flesh in her mouth, his pulse beating hard against her tongue through the thick veins around his dick.
“Good girl.” His tone turned rough. His grip tightened on the back of her neck, the press of his fingers just short of bruising. He thrust in one last time, holding her still as he came on the back of her tongue, the muscles in his thighs tight against her shoulder. “Ah! Fuck!”
Becky swallowed, smiling a little as Zach rested his head back against the sofa, breathing hard. He looked like he’d come completely undone. His mouth was open, his skin was flushed, and all his muscles had gone slack. I did that to him.
She hummed under her breath, rubbing her cheek against the inside of his thigh.
He let out a soft laugh, toying with her hair without sitting up. “I could die a happy man right now.”
“Could you?” She peered up at him, loving the way he looked down at her. Like she was someone special, someone who he considered his own. Belonging to a man had always been a scary thought, but not now. Not with him. His sports bag sat by the sofa, the one thing he’d asked her not to put away. She shouldn’t let herself forget what he was. And for once, it wasn’t the “gay” part that concerned her. “You’ve got a few years left in you, don’t you?”
His brow lifted. “More than a few, I hope. I’m only a few years older than you, pet.”
“I know, but that’s not what I mean. Would you seriously be happy if you died without a Cup ring on your finger?”
“If I’m dead, I don’t think I’ll care too much.” He winked, then pulled her to her feet as he stood. Doing up his jeans, he watched her curiously. “You have a very busy head, little doe. I have a feeling you’re not worried about me dying anytime soon.”
“I’m not worried about anything, Sir,” she said brightly, heading toward the kitchen. She’d made shaved pork in his Crock-Pot for supper. Should be ready by—
He caught her wrist, stalling her. His tone was level, but the depth to it made her tremble. “Becky.”
Just her name, but something about the way he said it told her he knew she wasn’t being completely honest. She wished she hadn’t said anything. If evading his question would just get her punished, she might try a little harder, but Zach had already warned her that he wouldn’t punish her for not being truthful. Trust or nothing.
Fair enough. She expected the same from him.
“You’re a hockey player. I mean, it’s all romantic for you to say things like that, but we both know I won’t be on your mind when you’re out on the ice.” She shrugged. “I’m just being realistic.”
He took a long, long inhale. Wet his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. Then let the breath out slowly. “You’re being very cynical. Yes, the game is a big part of my life. I’m not giving it up. But that doesn’t make you any less important to me.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Ugh, so much for his ruining everything. He’d given her exactly what she needed, but instead of letting herself enjoy the moment, she’d analyzed it, picking apart his words until she’d found exactly what she couldn’t help looking for. Something that could go wrong.
“I do, it’s only . . . I don’t know.” She pressed her lips together, then shook her head and started gathering the cleaning supplies she’d left on the floor. She felt ridiculous, and for some reason, the sexy little maid uniform made it even worse. Here she was, right in the middle of a scene with the Dom of her dreams, and all she could do was question everything he said and did. She hunched her shoulders. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” Zach took the supplies and set them on the coffee table. Then he straightened and placed his hands on her shoulders, searching her eyes, his brow creased. “Help me understand.”
How? I’m not sure I understand. She bowed her head. “Really, it just came out. I guess sometimes it just seems too good to be true.”
The edges of his lips quirked. “Imagine how I feel. I have a woman who enjoys cleaning for me and pleasing me in any way I can dream of. My mother would have lost it if she came in here to see me lounging around while you were scrubbing my floors.”
Becky’s cheeks heated. She peeked up at him. “I think she’d have been a little too shocked to get pissed about that.”
He snorted. “You don’t know my mother. I think you’ll like her though.”
Even though she’d gone off the handle a bit, her blood hadn’t cooled at all, and the moisture between her thighs reminded her the night wasn’t over. She ducked her head, sure her cheeks must be beet red. “I don’t really want to talk about your mom right now.”
His knuckles brushed her cheek before he used them to nudge her chin up. “What do you want to do?”
&n
bsp; You! She looked him over, taking note of the slight bulge in his jeans. She slid closer to him, sliding her hand down over his groin, smirking as he groaned. “You recover pretty fast.”
“Sometimes. Mostly with you.”
“Hmm.” She went up on tiptoes to kiss along his jaw, then whispered in his ear. “I want to feed you.”
His laugher followed her as she skipped out of reach and into his kitchen. She grinned as she set out the plates. Her doubt had been nothing but a hiccup. Talking things over with him had helped; he listened, he explained, and he understood.
Her heart was full to bursting, and it didn’t scare her quite so much anymore. She’d have her issues, but he was man enough to handle that.
Maybe they’d make it after all.
Chapter Thirteen
Steps away from the Joan Harriss Cruise Pavilion, Zach stood by Becky’s side and grinned at the way Casey gaped up at the Big Ceilidh Fiddle, the world’s largest fiddle. The little girl had been connected at the hip to her mother all week, even refusing to stay with her Uncle Landon and her new baby cousin while Becky saw him off. When he’d gone to pick Becky up, he’d thought at first that he’d have to say goodbye right there and then, but Casey took charge and insisted her mommy had to go to the big boat with him. And she had to come along.
He didn’t mind at all, but he had a feeling Becky wasn’t all that comfortable with it. The few times the three had gone out together over the past week, he was referred to as “Uncle Landon’s friend” or “one of the Cobras.” Casey saw other players at Bower’s place, so she didn’t make much of her mother hanging out with yet another one. Every time they went to the park, they saw a few other guys with their wives and kids. Palladino’s and Williams’ boys had regular playdates, and Zach had been enlisted by Casey as her swing buddy when she saw the boys being pushed high by their daddies. The first time, Becky had told Casey “Mommy will push you, poupée,” but Casey was a stubborn little thing.
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