Offside (33 page)

Her voice sounded funny when she finally managed to speak again, small, raspy, but clear enough. She hoped he could hear her. “Thank you, Sir. What you did . . .”

“I know, baby.” He pressed her head against his chest, holding her close as he pulled the blankets over them both. “You did it for me too.”

T
he weather was absolutely perfect on the third day of the cruise—even better than the first with the sun blazing down from a cloud-free sky. But it might as well have been pissing rain. Scott frowned as he hauled Sahara’s suitcases up to the deck, squinting against the glaring sun. And the flashing lights from the cameras. He’d slept well, despite the continuing uncertainty of what was gonna happen with him and Zach, yet, waking and knowing today was the day that Sahara was going to be unloaded in Manhattan—at least she had family in New York—made him feel like a failure. He was supposed to be her friend. He should have been able to do
something
to prevent her being kicked off the boat. This whole thing felt like being hauled to the sin bin after some asshole put on a medal-worthy diving performance.

“Demyan, does it bother you that your girlfriend is leaving? Or does this give you the opportunity to sample the rest of the girls?”

Scott scowled at the reporter. Not one of those invited on the cruise. Scum seeping up from New York, looking for a story. He ground his teeth, dropping Sahara’s luggage at his feet. “No comment.”

“Higgins has made public statements about how Sahara procured a contract with the Dartmouth Cobra Ice Girls. Would you care to comment about that?”

The next reporter was a woman. The sharp edge to her tone grated at him. As a woman, shouldn’t she be at least a little sympathetic? Pictures of Sahara without makeup concealing her fading bruises had gone viral the night before. Rumors about the kinky tendencies of the Cobras had a lot of people speculating that Sahara just liked it rough. A photo of Higgins dragging her out of a club had surfaced as well, but no one seemed to care how obvious it was that she’d been trying to get away from him. Everyone figured it was “a scene.” And
everyone
had read all those mainstream erotic books and considered themselves experts. As far as they were concerned, Sahara was a sub, acting out. One couldn’t show interest in BDSM, then claim abuse.

Worst thing was, Sahara hadn’t said anything about wanting to be in the lifestyle. But if she was involved with the Cobras, she must want it. And she’d get no pity from the outside world.

Scott knew better than to air any of his personal feelings. Nothing he could say would help her anyway. So he stood up straight and glared at the cameras. “No comment.”

When Sahara came to his side, his stiff countenance faltered. She looked so broken he didn’t hesitate to take her into his arms and kiss her cheeks, whispering things he hoped would make her feel a little better. Starting with “I’m going to bust that asshole’s sac.”

She giggled and patted his cheek. “Stay out of trouble. I’m heading home tomorrow. I’ll water the plants.”

We have plants?
He grinned at her and cuffed her chin lightly with his fist. Swallowing was a bit hard. This wasn’t fair. “Don’t leave your panties all over my floor. And do some laundry. Only fair that you clean up since you’ve been borrowing my shirts to sleep in.”

“I can’t help it! I love smelling your cologne as I drift off.”

“Aww.” All the uninvited leeches had taken off. They had to put on a show for the ones here to make them look good. He could do that. “Leave me something of yours that smells like that spicy perfume you wore that time . . .”

Sahara opened her suitcase and fetched a tiny T-shirt and squirted some perfume on it before handing it over. The feigned moment they had was spoiled by the way her face crumpled when she saw Akira. “Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to leave you like this.”

Akira braved a smile, glancing back at Dominik, who stood close enough to offer support, but not close enough for the reporters to make anything of it. “I’ll be okay. Take care of you, got it?”

“I will.” Sahara squared her shoulders, then moved into Scott, hugging him tight. She spoke low, her lips close to his ear. “You’re doing good. People are impressed. Don’t screw it up.”

“I won’t.” He let her go, happy to see that Zach was lingering at the edges of the crowd, watching him in that way he did, like he knew Scott would trip up and needed his presence to resist the urge to let it all out.

“Are you upset that she’s leaving?” One of
their
reporters asked quietly. One that couldn’t be ignored.

“I am. But we both understand the rules,” Scott said, hoping they’d leave it at that.

Of course, they didn’t. “Do you agree that Sahara asked for the treatment she had from Grant Higgins, as was implied?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? What kind of idiot would ask a question like that?” He bared his teeth as he felt a tug from behind.

Carter, shaking his head and saying something like “Don’t.” Don’t what? Make these assholes see that they were making it okay for a woman to be abused because she might be into something different? When was it ever okay? Why shouldn’t he make that fucking clear?

“I’d like for that comment to be erased from record and for Mr. Demyan to be given a chance to rephrase his answer.” Another suit stepped forward, his voice familiar—Scott was too irritated to do more than give him a scathing look.

Like hell I’ll “rephrase.”
Fuck them all.

But . . . when had Ford gotten there? He acknowledged the man with a nod, wincing as he registered the shock on Akira’s face. Mason lunged forward, catching Akira before she could spit whatever harsh words came to her at the sight of Ford in front of the cameras.

“I’m afraid we can’t do that.” The reporter turned away from Ford, stiffening as Ford stepped up to his side, speaking low. He paled, then nodded, returning to shove his microphone in Scott’s face. “You were saying?”

The sound of his breath hissing through his teeth was enhanced by the mike. He met Zach’s eyes, caught his short nod of encouragement. And knew what he had to do. Licking his lips, he let his hands fall to his sides, doing his best to take the aggression out of his stance. “When I was a kid, one of my foster sisters was abused by her boyfriend. No matter how bad he hurt her, she always went back to him. Defended him.” He held his breath until the sharp stab of regret in his chest dwindled to a dull ache. Shook his head. “She thought she asked for it, but she was wrong. I guess I learned at a young age how wrong it was—and I also learned how easy it could be to think you deserved whatever you got. The way I see it, Sahara found the strength to get out. She realized she deserved to be treated with respect, and she’s a good example for all the women out there who still don’t believe they deserve the same.”

“Are you saying Sahara isn’t into ‘kink’?”

Scott snorted, cocking his head slightly as he looked the rat-faced little man over. “I think you need to educate yourself about what ‘kink’ consists of. And I’m not about to discuss Sahara’s sex life. Past or present. It’s not relevant.”

“But—”

“That’s enough for now,” Ford said, drawing the attention away from Scott. His dark blue suit gave him a professional air, and even though he didn’t have any real power, the media hounds hadn’t forgotten how well-connected he was as a member of the Delgado family. “My sister’s vision for this show didn’t include a lecture on BDSM—but I doubt she’d have a problem with some provocative interviews with the girls.” He pulled a folded piece of paper from his inner suit pocket, one dark brow lifting as he flicked it open. “Actually, I have a question for the lot of you. Did you plagiarize these questions from
Penthouse
magazine? They look familiar.”

The reporters laughed and trailed after Ford to where the Ice Girls were playing in the pool again. Footage for the stupid show was gonna be repetitive. Did they really need to be stuck on the ship for a week for a four-hour special? The fans were gonna be bored out of their minds.

“You did good, Scott.” Coach Tim came up from behind Scott, squeezing his shoulder and grinning as Zach joined them. “Might want to take some tips from this man, though. I think the press has given up on him with his short, emotionless replies to every single question.”

“I hear you. The guys are starting to call him ‘The Droid.’” Scott smirked at Zach’s surprised look. “Sorry, pal—hard to tell if you’re human sometimes.”

“Really?” Zach rested his shoulder against the wall, his gaze going over Scott slowly. “Did you come up with that?”

It was hard to tell if Zach was insulted or just . . . looking to prove otherwise. Scott cleared his throat as the crotch to his jeans tightened around his swelling dick. He was more than willing to let Zach show him how hot-blooded he really was. “Carter came up with it—before you helped him out though.” He scratched his jaw as Carter stopped short right behind Tim. “It was a joke.”

“Don’t take it wrong, man.” Carter combed his messy blond hair away from his brow with his fingers, talking fast. “It’s like . . . like a compliment, you know? When the cameras are on you, when you’re on the ice—nothing shakes you. I wish I could be like that.”

“I’m not taking it personally, Carter. Don’t worry.” Zach held up a finger as his phone buzzed and pulled it out. His tone gentled as he answered, and Scott heard him say “Becky” before he moved out of hearing.

Carter hooked his thumbs to the belt loops of his shorts, rocking his bare feet on the gleaming wood deck. “He serious? He ain’t mad?”

“He ain’t mad.” Scott laughed and ruffled Carter’s hair. “Kid, that man is as straightforward as they come. He’s cold and hard when he needs to be, but then . . .” The edges of his lips tipped upward. Zach had mellowed out a lot since he’d gotten with Becky. She brought out the best in the man. And he had a feeling Zach did the same for her. Her sharp little barbs didn’t come quite as fast when she talked to Scott, and, unless he was wrong, she was kinda warming to him. The only problem was they never really hung out or talked without Zach around. He was getting plenty of opportunities to get closer to Zach, but none with her.

Maybe it was about time he changed that.

* * * *

“What are you wearing?”

Zach laughed, finding his way to his room for some privacy since Becky seemed to be in a teasing mood. “Swim trunks. You’ll be going through a lot of poolside footage from the cruise.”

“Mmm, I know. Some of the photos have made it to the fan site.” She purred provocatively into the phone. “You look good, Sir.”

“Have you been enjoying yourself at night, thinking about me?”

She paused, and he could hear the composure fade from her tone as she replied. “Yes . . . I swear, I bit through my pillow last night to keep from screaming. I’m not sure how thick these walls are.”

“What were you doing to yourself, pet?”

A little moan escaped her. “I guess you want details?”

“Naturally.” He let out a throaty chuckle, recalling the way she shivered in response to it the last time they were together, hoping it would give her the same reaction now. “Your body, your pleasure, belongs to me. I must know how you’re handling it when I’m not around.”

“Oh, must you?” Her tone turned cheeky. He could almost see the mischievous glint in her eyes as she tested the limits he couldn’t enforce over the phone. “What if I don’t feel like sharing?”

This playful, naughty side of her did something to him, something he couldn’t quite describe. As much as he loved the purity of her submission during a scene, he enjoyed a little push and pull. He didn’t need her trying to be the perfect sub all the time. He needed all of her, before, during, and after, shining through her surrender.

“I believe you need a firm hand to remind you how to behave,” he said, voice stern, but not to the point that she’d think he was angry. “Since I can’t do much from here, how about we agree that you save your orgasms for when I get back.”

“
What?
” She let out an aggravated sound. “That’s not fair. Why can you—”

“I won’t be, Becky.”

“You’re going to tell me Scott can’t get you off?”

“When I’ll allow nothing more than a kiss?” He smirked. “I haven’t been that easy since I was a teenager, love.”

“Ugh, but I told you to fuck him and—” She stopped herself before he had to, likely knowing she’d gone too far. “I mean—”

He let out a heavy sigh. “Enough. I think I’ve made it clear that I don’t want that kind of relationship. With you or with him. It’ll be hard for him to see sex as anything but a release—I’m not sure why, but—”

“Maybe that’s because, sometimes, that’s all it is.” All the fun, all the playfulness, had gone out of her voice. She’d become all business, become a woman he couldn’t deal with as a sub, erecting cement walls between them. “You fucked him once, no strings attached. Why can’t you just do that again?”

“Because he needs more.”

“I think you’re wrong.” She hesitated, then barreled on as though to make sure she had a chance to get it all out. “I hope you’re not, but I can’t help feeling it will be so much worse if you’re looking for something serious from him. Can’t we all just enjoy each other? Let the cards fall where they will?”

“Do you mean Scott, or do you mean you and I?” He could be wrong, but it seemed like she was pulling away from him. Which was why he hadn’t wanted to touch this thing with Scott in the first place.

But she was as insistent as ever. “No! I love you. I’m not afraid to lose you to him anymore.”

“Good. Because you won’t.”

“I know that.” She made an unhappy sound. “I’m sorry I ruined things, Sir. It would have been more pleasant to talk about how I used my rabbit, pretending it was your nice big cock as I came again and again and—”

He barked out a laugh. “You are a cruel, cruel woman, Becky.” He lowered his voice, adjusting his shorts, taking a few deep breaths to regain control. “The restrictions stand. You will wait for me.”

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that, Sir,” she said sweetly, continuing before he could speak. “Unless I know you’re getting what you need.”