Page 32 of Bad Ruck

"Do you still feel that way?" I asked carefully. I thought I knew where he was going with this, but I didn't want to get too far ahead of the conversation.

"No," he said. "I want you to want whoever you want to want." He frowned at his own words. "You know what I mean."

I grinned. "Yeah. I think I got that."

He elbowed me in the side. "Don't be a fucker. I mean, if you want Chelsea and Frost, I'm okay with it. As long as you want me too."

"Of course I do." If we were anywhere but here, I would have kissed him. Once, I would have worried about getting hell from Storm about it. He wasn't a problem now, but there were other guys in the team who were less than enlightened. Not to mention the media who lingered around, wanting to report our win to whatever channel they worked for.

I didn't care what they had to say, but I didn't want them to be up in Jay's face. He didn't handle publicity as well as some of us. He found it overwhelming. It was better to keep him away from it, and it away from him.

"I want you, Chelsea and Frost," he admitted.

"All at once?" I raised a teasing eyebrow at him.

He gaped for a moment, then swallowed, his eyes shifting back and forth. "Yes?"

"Then that's what we'll do." I clapped him on the shoulder. I didn't think Chelsea or Frost would have a problem with that. In fact, I knew they wouldn't. They'd both be as into it as we would.

"You're the best." He offered me an awkward fist bump.

I wanted to hug him, but I bumped his fist and patted his bicep. "Let's hit the showers before everyone else does." And before standing here naked with him got too much and I bent him over one of the benches and fucked him boneless. He was having the same problem too, his cock half erect, pointing at me.

"Yeah," he said with the same regret.

I was tempted to kiss him anyway, because why should we hold back just because of what other people thought? I didn't, because the whole media thing was still relevant and important. I wanted to put him in lots of positions, but not where he was scrutinised until it became too much and he had a meltdown.

I'd seen that happen a couple of times before and he always hated himself afterwards, no matter how understanding or gentle I tried to be. He didn't like being unable to control and contain his emotions. No, it was much easier to prevent the problem before it became one.

As much as it frustrated him, this was one of the things I loved about him the most. Playing professional football was stressful, and avoiding the limelight was almost impossible. But he faced each day head on, even when it got too much. He was the bravest guy I knew. Men like Storm, who were big, confident and dominant, weren't as brave as Jay. Being arrogant was a lot easier than what he dealt with.

"I have an appointment with the real estate agent in the morning," I told him. "To see an apartment in Powell Tower. Want to come?"

We decided to share a house when we moved to Dusk Bay, but we occupied separate bedrooms. Never quite able to commit to more. I wasn't sure if he'd even want to move with me again.

"I wouldn't miss it," he said. "Do I get to pick my room?"

"If you like," I said with half a shrug.

"Can I pick the same room as you?" he asked carefully.

"I'd like it if you would," I said. "And Chelsea can have sleepovers with us." At least until we all gave in to Frost's desire to live in one big house together. We weren't quite there yet.

Jay grinned. "And Frost."

I glanced over to where Frost was chatting to Dallas about something. Dallas looked better than he had when we found him in the change area. When I first saw him, I thought he was dead. He looked like hell. Lucky for all of us, he was okay. Still shaken, but alive. He and Ramsey seemed to have struck up a friendship too, which I was totally here for.

"And Frost," I agreed.

Chapter Thirteen

Chelsea

"Nice place."

The apartment’s layout was the same as Storm's, but this one was decorated with a butt ton of white. The countertops were white with light veining. The cabinets were white. The walls were painted off-white. Only the mid-tone hardwood broke it up.

"It could use some colour," Jay remarked. "Maybe a bright orange couch over there." He pointed.

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