Page 29 of Trick Play (Playing the Field #4)

CHAPTER

TWENTY-EIGHT

Zeke

Then

Gemini is the most popular nightclub among the celebrities of Los Angeles. It has a unique vibe, with several different dance floors surrounding a large full-circle bar. Since Gemini is known for its A-list patrons, they’re always strict with security to keep a bunch of random, rowdy people from filling the venue—that’s what the tourist trap clubs are for. This club has always felt safe and comfortable, a place where I don’t have to keep up my playboy facade. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve loved hooking up here in the past, but I didn’t feel obligated to be seen doing it.

Blue, purple, and pink lights strobe around the dance floor nearest to me, the lights bouncing off the glass of expensive ale forgotten in my hand. When I’d arrived with Micah and a few of my teammates, I thought tonight would be like any other spent at the club.

Boy, was I wrong.

Only a few minutes in, a man had tapped on Micah’s shoulder. Micah spun around, took one look at the guy, and embraced him. The two were all smiles and giggles and “what are you doing here?” before dashing from our booth to the closest dance floor without a word to me.

Micah hadn’t introduced me to the blond man, but it’s clear they’re close. They’re dancing together with little space between them, and I watch long enough to be envious of the man’s ease with Micah. This new character is slightly taller than my bunny, lithe like him, and dressed much the same—both in sparkly half shirts with makeup and painted nails.

My bunny is stunning with his cotton-candy-blue hair and long legs exposed by a pair of tiny white shorts, but this new guy has him beat for eccentricity. I didn’t even think that was possible. Blondie’s hair is styled so artfully he must have spent at least an hour in front of a mirror to get it right. Same with his makeup. Whereas Micah wears just enough to highlight his best features, Blondie is bold and dark and, dare I say, sensual. Even from here, I can tell he’s the type to give bedroom eyes to everyone . And the shorts Blondie is wearing . . . Well, maybe it’s technically a skirt? One half is covered by a crimped flowy skirt, but the other leg has the shorts underneath fully exposed. I can’t help but imagine what Micah would look like in something like that.

God, I’d probably rip it off him.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Forcing my gaze off Micah for the first time in what seems like hours, I turn my head to face someone I didn’t expect to see here. “Hey, man. How are you?” Standing up, I reach across the table to shake Rich’s hand. He’s a defensive tackle for the San Francisco Dragons, and I’d say it’s odd to see him down in LA, but it is the off-season now. Lots of players travel in the spring and summer months.

We exchange pleasantries, and I gesture for him to take a seat at the now-empty booth, my other teammates having dispersed to dance, order drinks, or find someone to take home.

As Rich sits across from me, setting his beer bottle on the table, I have to physically keep bringing my gaze back to him from where it continually drifts to Micah on the dance floor. He and the blond are grinding all over each other, though not in a sexual way. Well, not sexual between them. The way they’re dancing is definitely getting some heated looks from others around them.

“Sorry to hear you guys didn’t make it past the divisional round,” Rich says conversationally as I once again force myself to look away from Micah.

“Us? I can’t believe you guys didn’t even make it this year.” The Dragons were usually a done deal, but they’d had an unfortunate combination of coaching changes and player injuries.

Rich nods and covers a wince by taking a drink of his beer, smacking his lips after. “Hell of a way to go out, isn’t it?”

Something in his tone sounds as if he doesn’t mean just the playoffs . . . “No,” I gasp. “You aren’t retiring yet, are you?”

“I was thinking about it. Might stay and try for a better outcome next year.” He shrugs. “I already have two rings, though, so it isn’t like I haven’t had a good career.”

“Wow.” Leaning back against the booth, I let my head thunk against the unforgiving material as I process. Rich isn’t that much older than me. If he’s already thinking about retiring, what does that say about . . . “Wow,” I repeat for an entirely different reason.

Cotton candy blue catches my attention, and I can’t help as my eyes lock in on Micah once more. He’s still dancing with his friend, but his back is to Blondie now. Only their bodies are touching, no hands or mouths involved—and I’m grateful for that even as I scold myself for thinking I have some kind of claim on my fuck buddy—and Micah is giving every interested guy on the dance floor a look . It isn’t outright come hither , but more like look all you want, but don’t ever think you can touch . It’s downright lethal.

Then his gaze finds mine, and it’s all over. Eyes hooded, lips pushed out in a sexy pout, and hands roaming on his bare stomach and up toward his chest, Micah levels me with my own personal look that says I can come over there and have it—have him —right now. If I dare.

“Oh, fuck,” I groan under my breath and have to adjust my interested dick beneath the table.

“Damn. Who has you down bad?” Rich, who I’d completely forgotten about once Micah caught my eye again, exclaims and turns to peer over his shoulder, searching the dance floor. “Oh. The blond one?” I’m not surprised by how nonchalantly he suggests a man. We’ve been acquaintances long enough for me to know he doesn’t shy away when the conversation shifts to my sexual preferences.

“Blue,” I correct in a raspy voice, unable to form a complete sentence.

“Blue? Oh! He’s . . . wow.”

“I know.”

“Every man on that floor wants to eat him up,” Rich observes.

“I know.”

“And those two can really put on a show.”

I groan.

We both watch as Micah sends me another look. “Do you know him?” Rich asks.

“Yeah, we—” I have to clear my voice of gravel and try again, Micah somehow affecting me so much. “We’re friends. Who fuck. I guess.”

Rich makes an appreciative noise. “Good job.”

“I know.” Apparently, those two words are my new mantra.

“You aren’t jealous of all the guys who look two seconds away from pouncing? Or that guy he’s dancing with?”

I’m already shaking my head before he’s finished, this same issue having already circled and circled my brain. Have I figured out why? No, but I know one thing. “I don’t mind,” I tell Rich. “I mean, I really don’t mind. Like . . . God. Watching him dance with someone else, lead other men on, it does something for me, man. I can’t explain it, but I’ll tell you one thing. When we leave this club, Micah is coming home with me. He’ll be with me tonight. None of those guys stand a chance. If he enjoys teasing them until then . . . I’m gonna fucking enjoy watching him do it. They all want what I know I have. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever been a part of.”

Rich is grinning by the time I’m done, and it isn’t an innocent one either. He looks ready to tell me the most salacious secrets of the universe. I, of course, lean in to listen. “Have you heard about kink?”