Goal Line (The Dartmouth Cobras Book 7) by Bianca Sommerland

to hurry to the bathroom.
     
    * * * *
     
    With the curtains drawn in the living room, Sloan had to feel his way to the couch through the darkness. He sat slowly, fisting his hands against his knees to stop them from shaking. Eyes closed, he still saw the blood trailing down Oriana’s thigh. Blood he’d drawn.
    The blood itself didn’t do much for him, except for the fact that the stark red on her golden flesh was beautiful. Her soft whimpers, her struggle to be still as he hurt her, was nothing short of exquisite. His hand had been steady as he’d cut her, knowing just how deep he could go without doing serious damage, but it was how he felt when it was over that he couldn’t deal with. He’d tried to explain it to Max and Oriana, and yet, he couldn’t seem to find the right words.
    They thought he was slammed with regrets after a scene, but it wasn’t that at all. He just didn’t know how to relax into the high. He felt…too good. The control he held during a scene escaped him once it was over. It reminded him of the one time he’d smoked a joint with friends as a teen. Fun until the drug took over and his brain was fuzzy and he couldn’t trust his own thoughts. He’d never touched drugs after that. Or anything else that could affect his judgment. Control of himself wasn’t something he cared to jeopardize.
    But there were times his iron grip on himself faltered, and being alone was the only way he knew how to regain clarity. Whether it was after a game, with a win or a loss, adrenaline agitating him to the point that he might lash out, or at the end of a scene when he couldn’t trust himself to say or do anything right.
    His only regret was that people thought he was angry when he took off. Max and Oriana understood him better than most, but he was sure they still wondered sometimes if they’d done something wrong. He’d offer reassurance once he felt normal again. Until then, at least they had each other.
    The hall light came on and Sloan sighed as he saw Max standing in the doorway. He should have expected the man to come, either on his own or because Oriana wanted him to make sure Sloan was okay. He cracked his knuckles, happy at least that his hands had stopped shaking. And he didn’t want to punch Max as his best friend crossed the room. All good things.
    “I know what you’re gonna ask.” Sloan slouched back into the sofa, giving Max a crooked smile as he sat beside him. “I’m fine. I’m sorry I left like that, I just—”
    “When I’m not around, you don’t take off.” Max braced his hands on his thighs, not looking at Sloan. “And yeah, you don’t do edgeplay without me, but it’s hard to know what’s going on in your head when you shut down like this. If you just need a minute, I’ll give it to you. Wish you’d stay with us though—even if that means you can’t play big, tough Dom all the time.”
    “I’m not trying to be tough. I just don’t want to…” Sloan rubbed the tense spot between his eyes, getting that they had to be able to discuss any issues, but not sure he could be any clearer. “I never know how I’ll react when I’m leaving that headspace. I could hurt you or her without meaning to.”
    Max nodded slowly, finally meeting his eyes. “I don’t think you would. But what I think doesn’t matter. You don’t believe it, and no one’s gonna convince you otherwise.”
    Sloan closed his eyes and shook his head. If Max were a sub, he could probably just order him to back off. Then again, that wouldn’t work with Oriana if she decided there was a problem. But Max saw more than either of them, and he was the reason they’d made it this far. Sloan hadn’t been sure if he had what it took to be in a stable relationship, but Max had forced him to see all the little things that made them strong together. A lot of negotiation. More talking than Sloan would have ever considered necessary. But it was worth it because Sloan didn’t want to know what a life without