Chapter 11: Chapter Eleven

A sharp floral aroma hit Scott as the heavy blanket of sleep dissolved. He groaned, turning his head to the side to 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 looked 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.

“What’s the occasion, Mason?” Scott helped himself to a shot. Smacking his lips, he smiled at the huge defenseman, pretending not to notice the way his big fists clenched on the table. “You’ve got a rep for self-control. And ain’t you the new captain? Bad example you’re giving, don’t you think?”

“Fuck off, Demyan.” Mason snatched the shot glass out of Scott’s hand. “I’m not in the mood.”

“In the mood for what? We’re just talking.” Scott smirked, suddenly feeling reckless. “You want to get in my pants, you better be a bit more generous with the liquor. I’m not a cheap date.”

“Leave.” Mason snapped, his eyes dangerously narrowed. “Now.”

“Mmm.” Scott let out an exaggerated moan. “I think I get what Oriana saw in you. That commanding tone is fucking sexy.”

“Are you fucking stoned?” Mason pushed his chair away from the table and stood. “Get out of my face before I rearrange yours for you.”

“Foreplay. Hell, I don’t know why Max and Sloan left you. Or maybe I do.” Scott cocked his head, knowing he was asking for trouble. “You were too much for them. They knew they couldn’t compete. That’s why they—”

“Outside.” Mason jerked Scott out of his chair by the back of his shirt and shoved him toward the door. “Fuck, I need this.”

So do I. Scott’s pulse went into overdrive as he weaved around the crowd and hit the street. He knew Mason could kick his ass, but he didn’t give a shit. The whiskey wasn’t working. Maybe a good beating would.

As he faced off against Mason on the sidewalk in front of the bar, he couldn’t help but laugh. Damn, he wished they were doing this on the ice. He missed the game, missed knowing he could drop his gloves make an impact. Because nothing else he did seemed to matter. He didn’t matter unless he was bringing something to the game.

To the team.

He stared at Mason as the man pulled a gold ring off his left hand and tucked it into the front pocket of his blue jeans. Not a wedding ring, but something that had meant just as much. What the fuck was he doing? Getting into a fight with a teammate just because he was messed up?

He closed his eyes as Mason lunged at him. He’d fucking asked for this. Maybe waking up bruised and broken would smarten him the fuck up. He wasn’t proving anything to Zach or Becky by being a fucking idiot. All he was doing was showing them that he wasn’t worth their time. And maybe he wasn’t. But damn it, part of him wanted them to believe he could be. Maybe not now, but some day . . .

Until then, he’d take what he’d earned. If that was a beating, so be it.

He choked on a breath as Mason burst out laughing and slapped his shoulder.

“Damn it, you almost had me.” Mason tipped his head back, staring up at the black sky. “We can beat the shit out of each other, but it won’t change anything, will it?” He gave Scott a shrewd look. “I’d take you for a masochist, but you’re not into pain, are you?” He didn’t wait for Scott to answer. “I’d meant to talk to you, but I got too wrapped up in my own thing to call. And I think knowing someone needs you will mean more than getting your ass kicked. You in?”

Someone needed him? Now, that was something new. He let out a rough laugh, then nodded. “I’m so in.”

* * * *

“I’m tired of being afraid.”

“Then don’t be.”

Akira wished she’d kept her mouth shut. As Dominik opened the door to the club, the click of the lock sounded with frightening finality, as though warning her that once she went in, there was no turning back. She glanced over at Jami and took a deep breath as her best friend took her hand. They walked in together.

The club, Blades & Ice, wasn’t at all what she’d imagined. From the descriptions of BDSM clubs in all the books she read, she’d painted out elaborate scenes on huge devices meant for torture, but used for pleasure. Cages, racks, iron maidens . . . she couldn’t have come if the club was open like it usually was on Friday. Nightmares of violent beatings kept her awake at night, and she’d convinced herself if she came here all kinds of horrible things would happen to her. But all Jami told her threaded erotic dreams through the horror.

They’d agreed the only way to clear things up was for her to see it for herself. Some day. Akira had marked that day on her mental calendar of the very far away future. Before swimming with sharks and right after bungee jumping.

Apparently, Jami had decided to mark the date with a big red X right on Akira’s 20th birthday. As she’d pointed out, they needed somewhere to celebrate.

Moving past Jami and Dominik, Akira took in the brightly lit main floor, with a hollow, oval shaped, thick-glass-topped bar taking up most of one section, tables and stools set around it in a semi-circle. There was a large stage, a dance floor, and roped-off areas on the other side with padded tables, spanking benches, and crosses. Leather and some kind of lemony cleaner scented the air. It all looked so harmless. The big wood throne in the center of the room seemed like nothing more than a sturdy piece of furniture.

“It’s nothing.” Akira exhaled and turned to smile at Jami. “I was expecting . . . I don’t know, something bad. I mean, it’s cool and all, but I figured there would be more.”

Jami cocked her head. “More what?”

“It’s hard to say.” Akira nibbled on her bottom lip. She wanted to laugh at herself. They’d all come here in jeans and T-shirts—not fetish wear. Had she really expected anything to happen? “The atmosphere in the books seems like it would linger, you know? I thought I’d feel . . . something.”

Dominik chuckled as he strolled around the bar. He took out three glasses and poured them each a mixed drink that smelled sweet and peachy. Suddenly, his black jeans and snug, dark blue T-shirt seemed as fitting here as any amount of leather. His tone was deep when he spoke, reverberating right through her. “It’s only a room without intent, little one. More comes when you are with someone who knows what you need. You don’t need more. Yet.”

“Yet?” Akira’s hand shook as she picked up her glass and slipped onto a stool. There it was. That feeling she got when she read those books. Just a few words from this man, this Dom, tapped into the small part of her that wished she was brave enough to experience submission for real. But that would involve . . . No no no! “No. I can’t. I just wanted to see—”

“All you will do tonight is see, Akira.” Dominik reached across the bar. His hand hovered near hers, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating off his skin. He placed his hand over hers when she didn’t pull away. His palm was rough on the back of her hand, and she sensed his strength, but wasn’t afraid of it. Somehow, she knew he wouldn’t hurt her. He smiled, approval glowing in his gold-flecked brown eyes. “I’m here to keep you safe. To make sure you enjoy your party.”

“I don’t understand.” Akira looked over her shoulder at the room. “Why here? Sure, I was curious, but what’s the point, really, since I can’t . . .” Don’t tell him! He doesn’t need to know! She drew her hand out from under his, then hugged herself. “I mean, I won’t do anything.”

“You don’t have to. This isn’t all about sex. There’s so much more involved, and I believe you need a taste of that. To see that some of your desires can be satisfied without a single touch.” The lights went out. Dominik’s hand was there when she grabbed for it, and his voice took on a soothing quality. “You’ve come a long way.” His thumb stroked her knuckles, making her shiver. “Consider this another step. A tiny one.”

I have come a long way. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she stared at his hand, amazed at how comfortable she felt touching him. It was no more sexual than a tiny boat being tied to a mooring, secured so it wouldn’t float away. Still, for the longest time, a man standing too close was enough to bring on a panic attack. Not anymore, though.

Not with Dominik anyway. And there were others she’d let close. Very few, but it was a start.

Music filled the room, getting louder, something familiar. She grinned at Jami as her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she recognized the song.

“Candy Shop.”

Four men strolled down from the stairs that split the bar area from the sceneing area. All wore matching shiny grey suits with white shirts and grey vests and ties. She knew three of the men fairly well. Scott, who made her smile with the wink he shot her way. Luke, whose appearance made Jami’s breathe catch beside her. Jami let out a soft, happy sound, and Akira tore her gaze away from the men to take in the glowing look of love in her friend’s eyes. Jami had missed Luke and Sebastian so much—she rarely talked about anything else. Akira hoped Sebastian was here too.

The blush spreading across Jami’s face drew Akira’s attention back to the men, their smooth, sensual movements timed to the music. She bit her lip as she watched Tyler, a player who’d been injured on the ice a couple of years ago and hadn’t returned since, rolling his body down low. Slowly. Provocatively. He’d always seemed so shy and quiet. The last man she knew only by name. Shawn Pischlar, the team’s only Austrian player. There was nothing remarkable about him—he was tall, nicely built, yet his looks were almost downplayed by the handsome men beside him.

But damn could he move.

As the men came to the center of the bar area, dancing with smooth body rolls even as they undid their suit jackets, Akira hardly noticed the other people filling the room. She caught a few Cobra jerseys from the corner of her eye, but all she could do was enjoy the show. Her blood pulsed hot in her veins as the men tossed their jackets aside, then went to work removing their vests, then their shirts. Sweat glistened on their chests, running in rivulets down their tan flesh, making her mouth water. For the first time in what seemed like forever, she wanted to touch a man. Worse—or maybe better—she had the strangest urge to go straight up to Scott and lick the sweat off his skin. Smooth her hand down Shawn’s chest to feel the way his muscles undulated under her palm.

She was actually aroused. And even though she knew she wouldn’t act on it, it was awesome knowing she could feel this way again. Hadn’t that part of her died, four years ago on that office floor?

Apparently not. Her face heated, and she giggled with Jami as the men peeled down their pants, revealing tight black shorts.

“You get to be with these guys on that boat for a week!” Jami nudged Akira’s side as she took a big sip of her drink. “Lucky bitch!”

Akira stuck out her tongue, then swallowed as the men hooked their thumbs to the waistband of their shorts. A laugh escaped her as the song ended and all four men dropped to their knees. Both she and Jami clapped. Akira drained the rest of her own drink, thanking Dominik breathlessly as he gave her a refill. She had to bite her tongue to keep from shouting, “Take it off!” The whole thing was so naughty, so unexpected. Her own reactions even more so.

Maybe I’m better. She smiled as the other players, some with girlfriends or wives, came forward to wish her happy birthday. “Wild Out” by Dijon Talton came on, and the younger players and couples filled the dance floor. The atmosphere still wasn’t what she’d expected from this kind of club, but something about it was liberating. She watched Jami as she left her stool to join Luke, still on his knees, and Sebastian, who drew her into his arms for a long, passionate kiss. Chicklet and her female sub, Laura, went to Tyler, Laura kissing him sweetly before snapping a pair of cuffs on his wrists. The trio headed off to the sceneing area, energy and love radiating from them in a way that made Akira feel like she was standing in the shadows on a bright summer day and would only feel the warmth if she stepped out and joined them.

Not just them either. Not all the people here were kinky, but they all accepted the lifestyle. The lifestyle Akira wished she could find a way to be part of. There was nothing scary about any of it. The way Chicklet touched Tyler as she bound him to a large frame was tender. Off to the other side, Luke had a length of rope he was using to bind Jami, laughing as she teased him and wiggled out of the loose loops around her wrists. Others made their way to stations, while the rest of the crowd danced or came to the bar for a drink.

It all seemed so . . . normal. Like something she could have.

Dominik was right. It wasn’t all about sex. There was something deeper going on between the couples playing—and most of them were playing. Having fun.

I can do this. Any of it. But for some reason, she needed to hear it was okay from the one person whose opinion mattered now. She took a deep breath and turned to Dominik. “I want to try . . . something.”

Arching one brow, Dominik nodded slowly, taking a sip of his drink before replying. “Such as?”

Her gaze drifted toward where Chicklet attached clamps to Tyler’s nipples while Laura rubbed her cheek against his thigh, moving closer and closer to the erection that seemed almost painfully contained by his tight shorts.

Ah, okay. Not that.

But the scene between Jami, Luke, and Sebastian. Akira’s teeth scraped her bottom lip as Luke continued his intricate knot work. Kneeling, her arms bound behind her, Jami’s shorts were completely covered by what looked like a skirt made of black and red ropes. The way Luke continued up her body made it seem like he was constructing a dress for her. A very restrictive dress. Akira’s pulse quickened until she saw the expression on her friend’s face. Jami peered up at Sebastian as he spoke to her, responding with a slight smile on her lips.

Akira’s favorite books had scenes like this. Bondage that was erotic all on its own, the firm grip of the rope, the texture, the surrender of control, and . . . and so much more she’d never thought she could experience.

Dominik followed her gaze when she didn’t answer, then shook his head. “Not yet, Akira. Baby steps, remember? I’m impressed that you’re doing so well with all these people—these men around in such a closed space.” As some players crowded around the bar, Akira ground her teeth, hating the cold rush of panic that raced through her veins. She tried to keep her expression neutral, but Dominik’s shrewd look told her he’d noticed. “This is your party. Mingle. See if you’re okay with being close enough to a man to have a conversation with all the music and noise around you.”

“Dance.” She blurted out, then ducked her head as his brow furrowed. Random much? “I mean, I want to dance. I feel the most confident when I’m dancing, but usually I block out everyone around me.”

He nodded slowly. “Jami mentioned that. Try it if you want, but it will help you more if you don’t block everyone out. Stay close to someone you feel comfortable with. Who here makes you feel safe?”

“Besides you?” She grinned at his broad smile, reaching out to cover his hand with hers as she stood. She hadn’t noticed before, but he looked tired. This was the first time his smile seemed genuine. She wanted to keep it that way. “Thank you so much for—”

“I know that look. Don’t worry about me, sweetie. I’m fine.” He straightened, jutting his chin toward the dance floor. “I’m responsible for the club since Richter isn’t here. I can’t dance with you, so I need to know there will be someone close you can turn to if you’re uncomfortable.”

“Okay.” She pressed her lips together as she looked over the throng dancing under flashing strobe lights. So many that she knew as a hockey fan, as an Ice Girl contestant, but few well enough to say she could turn to if she panicked. There was Scott and . . . she scowled as she realized she was seeking out someone who wasn’t there. Who she didn’t want to be here. A man she couldn’t stand had no place at her birthday party.

Not like he would even know today is my birthday.

He had to know enough players for someone to have told him. Practically the whole team was here.

Maybe he was smart enough to know he wasn’t welcome.

Doubtful. Akira glanced toward Jami, a tiny stab of envy hitting her as she watched Luke play with her hair and kiss her throat while Sebastian cupped her cheeks in his big hands and claimed her lips. She seemed so relaxed between them, and they gave her so much. The envy faded until all she felt was relief. Jami was so much better off with these men. She’d made some bad choices before, and Akira wasn’t sure she could have handled the grateful way Jami looked at him whenever he was around. Like he was her hero or something.

Even though it was his fault she’d been in danger in the first place.

If Jami can forgive him, why can’t you?

Because . . . because there’d been a moment where she’d forgotten herself with him. She hadn’t seen him as he really was. He was a liar. Someone who acted without thinking about the consequences.

Someone she thought about way too often.

“What’s on your mind, pet?” Dominik put his hand over her wrist, encircling it slowly, giving her the slightest taste of restraint which helped ease her away from her thoughts. But then the sensation distracted her from his question. She ended up staring at his hand, imagining how it would feel to be in Jami’s place, to be brave enough to immerse herself in everything without being so damn afraid.

Dominik didn’t scare her at all. And after he repeated the question, she forced herself to think of who else she’d be okay with. The answer made her laugh. “Scott.”

“I thought so.” Dominik cocked his head. “Do you know why?”

That was easy. “He’s honest. He might be a total dog, but he’s still a sweetheart. He doesn’t try to pretend to be what he’s not.”

“I’m sure he’d be flattered by that assessment.” Dominik chuckled. “All right, go ahead. I’ll be making rounds, but I will never be too far. Give me a shout if there’s anything.” He stood, pulling her to her feet. “And have fun.”

She nodded, then sprinted away from him, laughing as Scott met her at the edge of the dance floor, twirling her around and kissing her cheek as he said, “Happy birthday.” Dancing with him was so easy. And then she was dancing with Shawn. Then Luke and Jami, who’d finished their little scene. Jami, wrists freed, was still wearing her rope dress, but it didn’t seem to stop her from moving in a sultry sway to the music. She hugged Akira, shooing Luke away for some girl talk.

“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.