Who spoke before Silver could get a word out. “Miss Hayashi, it shows a great lack of respect for you to take your time joining us. I’m sure Miss Delgado asked us here to discuss how unprofessional you’ve behaved, and I must say, I agree.”
Lips in a tight, thin line, Silver stepped forward. “That’s not—”
“Sahara may be Akira’s friend, but the favoritism she’s shown is unseemly.” Ms. Plant turned her nose up as though Akira and Sahara had done something disgusting. She nailed Akira with a hard stare. “Any other girl showing up with a hangover even once would be given a warning. The trainers have told me you wanted to handle it yourself, but you clearly haven’t. Your relationship is—”
“Will you shut up!” Silver slapped her hand on her desk and glared at Ms. Plant. “We’re here because of you.”
“Me?” Ms. Plant brought her pale hand to the light blue scarf on her neck. “I don’t understand.”
Silver shrugged. “That’s not my problem. It may have been acceptable wherever you worked before to bully young women and make them feel insecure about themselves, but I have zero tolerance for it here. One of the many charities the Ice Girls are involved in is to support women with eating disorders. You clearly don’t fit with what we’re trying to accomplish.”
“Is this because of that chubby girl?” Ms. Plant frowned at Akira. “Did she complain to you about my showing interest in her health? Why didn’t you speak to me? This is ridiculous!”
“’That chubby girl?’” Silver’s jaw ticked. “Lady, first of all, you’re fired. Second of all, I’m giving you two seconds to get out of my office before I slap you.”
“Before you—?”
“One.” Silver took a step toward Ms. Plant.
Ms. Plant let out a shocked cry, then scurried out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Mouth open, Akira stared at Silver. Sahara was doing the same.
“Damn, that felt good.” Silver went around her desk, pulling her chair out and lowering into it, pulling the clip from her hair before leaning back and propping her feet up on the desk. “Anyone else you want me to get rid of?”
Silver freakin’ rocks! Akira decided Silver was her new idol. She felt hysterical laughter bubbling inside her, but was too stunned to let it loose as both she and Sahara shook their heads.
“All righty then. Enjoy your night, girls.” Silver grinned as she picked up a folder off her desk and placed it on her thighs. “I’ve got to think about who I’m gonna have fill Ms. Plant’s position as Performance Director.”
Akira stood, not sure what to say other than “Thank you.”
“No problem. I’m glad you told me.” Silver shook her head. “What a bitch.”
“I agree.” Sahara paused by Akira’s side. “Do you have anyone in mind? For the position I mean?”
“I might.” Silver gave Akira a look Akira couldn’t read, then sat up and picked up her phone. “Don’t worry, you’ll like this one.” A broad smile crossed her lips as whomever she’d called answered. “Hey, bro. Did I wake you up?”
Sahara pulled Akira out into the hall, speaking in a hushed voice as she eased the door shut. “Tell me her calling Ford right after me asking if she had anyone in mind is a coincidence?”
“Umm . . .” Akira nibbled at her bottom lip, not sure what to say. This was Silver. She’d done crazier things than hiring her brother to take over as Performance Director. Hopefully Silver would have to run it by Mr. Keane first, but Akira wasn’t going to bring him up to Sahara. So she simply shrugged. “Maybe Ford won’t want the job.”
Brow raised, Sahara walked backward to the elevator. “Sweetie, this gives him a chance to see you almost every day. You really think he’ll turn it down?”
“We’re just friends. He’s not going to take a job just to spend more time with me.”
“Uh-huh.” Sahara pressed the button to call the elevator. “You waiting for Cort?”
“Yeah.” Akira ducked her head as she felt her cheeks heat, sure her plans for the night were written all over her face in explicit detail.
The way Sahara wiggled her eyebrows made Akira wish she had a mirror to check how obvious it really was. Sahara backed into the elevator, calling out before the doors closed, “I won’t wait up!”
Chapter Eleven
Cort rested his forearms on the desk, glancing down at the old team roster, nodding slowly as Tim finished a brief recap of the whole scandal from a couple years back when the former team coach and a couple of players had helped rig games for the Kingsleys. He’d used the excuse that Ford wanted to know exactly how involved his “father” had been, but what he really wanted to know was if there was anyone he might be able to approach.
It made him feel sick to his stomach to even consider bribing or threatening anyone—that wasn’t him. Not anymore. But as bad as things were between him and Ford, he wouldn’t risk the young man he’d looked out for since he was a boy getting hurt again. At least this way, Cort could tell Roy he was looking into it. Give him a fucking name.
Unfortunately, the Cobras all seemed too fucking tight to single one out. Cort had considered Max Perron, but Tim had just brought up how the man had gone to jail rather than betray his team. Every other player had been questioned and had stated clearly that they would have reported any attempt at bribery.
His only hope was one of the rookies, the new player being brought in, or . . . he studied the coach’s face as Tim finished giving him the last details of the investigation. “I take it you were questioned as well?”
“About Paul? Yes.” Tim scowled. “Made me feel like an idiot. I never suspected a thing.”
“You never wondered why the goalie was so inconsistent?”
“Why would I? Some are, and you have to work with them. Hunt might end up being like that. He’s an emotional player and tends to lose momentum after a soft goal.” Tim scratched his jaw. “It was smart of Paul to use the goalie, though. No one really questions when a goalie has a bad game, and it’s hard for the team to come back if too many go in. As a coach, you’ve got to be ready to pull him if he can’t get his act together.”
“But sometimes you leave the goalie in to finish the game, right? Like, they win or lose as a team?”
“Exactly.” Tim stood, reaching across the desk to shake Cort’s hand. “Hope that’s it? Not to cut things short, but my wife’s waiting for me and I want to take advantage of all the time we have left before the road trip.”
“Not a problem.” Cort smiled at the other man. He was hard not to like, even though he was making this even more difficult. “Thanks for talking with me.”
“Sure thing. Glad you could be here for Ford. He’s not a bad kid. It’s good that he’s clear of Kingsley.”
“I agree.” Cort stared at the closed door after Tim left, pressing his eyes shut. He wouldn’t put up with anyone else talking to him like Ford had—fuck, he’d either cut them out of his life or beat the shit out of them. But he’d worked too damn hard to get the kid on the right path to give up on him now. And damn it, he still considered Ford a brother.
Gonna make sure he stays clear of Roy. Then . . . we’ll see.
He took out his phone and called Roy’s house, wasting no time with pleasantries after the man picked up. “It’s gonna take some work, but I might have something.”
“Excellent.” Roy’s usually composed tone held a hint of anxiousness. “A player?”
“Not yet, but just getting a player would be useless.”
“I’m not sure what you mean. All we had last time was the goaltender.”
Cort rolled his shoulders. “That’s not what I heard.”
“Then . . . ah, yes. Paul.” Roy let out a soft laugh. “You’ve approached the coach?”
“Yes.” Cort inhaled quietly, keeping his tone level so Roy wouldn’t hear the lie. After speaking with Tim, Cort didn’t get the impression that the man could be bought. Which left only one option, and . . . fuck. He needed to buy himself some ti
me. “I’m working on it. Let them win some games, then I’ll put some pressure on him.”
“Very well. You have until they clinch a playoff spot,” Roy said with faux pleasantness. “I appreciate your cooperation, Cort, but if it proves to be too difficult, I may have to send in my own man.”
“Your own—” The dial tone sounded. “Son of a bitch!” Cort slammed his phone down on the desk. He’d gotten the time he needed, but he didn’t like not knowing what the fuck Roy’s plan B was. “Send in my own man” could mean a lot of things.
None of them good.
“You okay?”
Akira stood by the open door. He hadn’t heard her come in.
And he really hoped she hadn’t heard anything. Damn it, she’d hate him if she found out what he was doing.
But the concern in her face made it clear she didn’t know. She approached him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Tell me whoever that ‘son of a bitch’ is—” Her cheeks grew pink as the words left her mouth, as though she felt naughty saying them. She kissed his cheek. “—didn’t stress you out too much. I may have to hurt him.”
What should have been funny made his gut clench. Cort was happy she hadn’t questioned his intense focus on the game while they were in the press box. She’d likely thought he was just doing his job, but he’d been a little concerned that she might come over to him—hug him or something right there where the cameras might catch them. The fewer people who knew he and Akira were together, the better.
How long can you keep that up, Nash? He inhaled slowly and pulled her into his lap, holding her close. Fighting Ford for her seemed so simple, but keeping her might put her in danger.
Ford thought Cort would end things because Akira didn’t fit into his life.
And maybe he was right. Because she didn’t. Shouldn’t.
He was the son of a bitch. The best thing he could do for Akira was break things off with her now. Before she got too attached. But part of him hoped that he’d find a way around Roy. If he could give Roy a few fucking games, make him some money . . . he ground his teeth, stroking Akira’s back, already finding it hard to imagine not having her around, and hating himself for it. There was no guarantee he’d ever get away from Roy. Not without leaving Ford out to dry.
Not fucking happening.
So he’d do what he always did. Live day-to-day and handle whatever shit came at him. He and Akira had right now.
He let out a rough laugh. “No more work talk. Tonight is ours. Already forgot about the ass—about who I was on the phone with.”
“Good. Deal with the asshole tomorrow.” She wiggled off his lap, tugging at his hands until he stood. “Fuck him.”
“I think I’m a bad influence on you.” Cort grinned as she stuck out her tongue at him, then framed her chin in his hand and bent down to trace his tongue over her damp bottom lip. “Don’t swear and I’ll try not to.”
“It doesn’t bother me.” She pressed her hands to his chest, going up on her tiptoes to reach his chin, nipping him lightly. “I’ll just try not to do it in front of my father.”
“Or how about you keep those nasty words out of that pretty mouth.” He tightened his grip on her jaw, kissing her hard until she gasped and fisted her hands in his shirt. Then he kissed the tip of her nose. “Only use them when you can’t help yourself.”
She cocked her head as he grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. “Why wouldn’t I be able to help myself?”
“Because I’ll work very hard to make you lose control.” He joined her by the door, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, his dick so damn hard it practically led the way to his car. He waited until they got out of the elevator in the parking garage to speak again. “’Oh fuck! More!’ is perfectly acceptable.”
She giggled, sounding nervous and excited all at once. “You’re bad.”
“And you love it.” He opened the passenger’s side door for her, sliding his lips up the length of her throat before she got in. There was something about being around her that didn’t make him feel “bad.” Like if things were different, he could be real good for her.
Maybe he would be. He had to believe if there wasn’t a chance for them, if there was no hope for him to find a way out of the mess he was in, that he’d have ended things already.
He would if there was no other option, but he hadn’t gotten there yet.
They drove out aimlessly for a while, the ocean to the right, the view of the snow-blanketed city fading away on the left. Akira’s small hand covered his for most of the drive, then shifted to his knee. He could practically feel her hesitant gaze on the side of his face as her hand drifted up a little higher. His throat worked as she reached his belt.
“I’ve always wanted to do this.” She spoke softly as she undid his belt. Then unbuttoned his pants and pulled down his zipper. “I’m not distracting you, am I?”
“No, I’m good.” He tightened his grip on the steering wheel as she freed his dick and brought her lips down to his throbbing flesh. This wasn’t the first time a girl had gone down on him while he was driving, but with Akira it was different. Fucking sinful, like corrupting an angel.
And as her soft lips slid down his hard length, all he could think was he didn’t want to stop.
* * * *
Akira’s breath caught as Cort placed his hand on the back of her head and the car stopped moving. Giving him pleasure was easy. She loved the feeling of his thigh muscles hardening under her hand. His pulse racing against her tongue. Dominik had helped make going down on a man feel like something erotic, like a gift of pleasure. She never had flashbacks while doing this with either man. It was when they wanted to return the favor that the darkness fell over her, that the memories loomed like an evil specter, tainting the perfect moments with dread.
“Akira.”
She bit her lip as she sat up and met his level gaze. Was he mad at her? She’d stopped while her thoughts had wandered. What man wanted that?
“Aw, Tiny, don’t give me that look.” Cort raked his fingers through her hair. “I think we need to clear something up.”
“I’m sorry.” She wasn’t even sure why she was sorry. Mostly because he must be disappointed.
He shook his head. “See, that’s what I’m talking about. I’m not upset. We’re getting to know each other, and I can see when you’re thinking hard. When you’re worried. I just can’t always figure out why.”
She stared at the dashboard. “It’s nothing.”
“That’s not helpful.” He tipped her chin up with a finger until she had no choice but to face him. “Have you ever been tied up?”
Her brow furrowed. “Yes. Loosely.”
“Would you trust me to tie you up?”
Without thinking, she nodded.
He shook his head. “No. Not yet.” He stroked her bottom lip with his thumb. “You’d panic. You’re not ready.” His eyes softened and her heart melted like a candle too close to a blazing flame. “I won’t make love to you tonight.”
The way he said it . . . from some men, it might have sounded odd, but from Cort the statement was gentle. As though he wanted to take very special care of her.
Which was nice, but she was still hot. Fairly burning up in all the places her stupid brain couldn’t ruin things for them. She wanted him so badly it hurt.
He grinned as though he’d somehow caught the thought. “A gentleman returns the favor. No sane person would call me that, but I’ll be one for you.”
“You’re incredible.” Her fingers curled around his stiff shirt collar, and the warmth of the brief contact with his skin beneath it shot straight to her core. She rose up on her knees. “You don’t have to—”
“I know. I’ve been doing some reading. Dom’s pleasure can be more than enough for a sub.” He chuckled as her eyes widened and he fisted his hand in her hair. “I’m not a Dom. Yet. But even if I earn the title, there’s some things I won’t do. Like the whole orgasm denial thing. I’ll find better ways to punish you if
you’re a bad girl. Now get in the backseat.”
She scrambled between the seats, watching him as he got out of the car to join her. “Better ways? Like what?”
“Good question.” He drew her up to her knees and pulled her panties down from under her skirt. He left the door open and the cold from outside clashed with the heat of the car. “It’ll be something good. Something that will make you think twice before disappointing me.”
“I think knowing I’ve disappointed you would be enough.” She let out a little squeak as he wrapped his hands around her hips to pull her closer. “What are you—?”
“Lie back and enjoy, Tiny.” He lowered his face between her thighs, kissing the side of one. “I don’t want to have to think of a punishment just yet.”
She lay back and closed her eyes, swallowing a gasp as his mouth covered her. His thick tongue pressed in deep, then slid over her clit with just enough pressure to make her squirm. The pleasure escalated as his grip tightened on her hips, forcing her to take the way he slowly tasted every bit of her blazing flesh without letting her rise up to take more. She trembled as all the sensations coiled into a sizzling core of erotic energy, growing with each spark of her nerve endings, tightening until she blazed within and without.
Cort slid his lips up to the top of her mound, laying a soft kiss there as the cold air from outside rushed in to caress her damp folds. Her insides convulsed as though trying to latch on to the release that had been so close. When he slicked his fingers through the moisture between her pussy lips, her hips jerked. As he slowly pressed two fingers inside her, she threw her head back, lips parted as she tried to gasp in air, her body trapped on the precipice of ecstasy, close enough to take the plunge or stumble back onto level ground.
A lazy glide of Cort’s tongue over her clit had her crying out, tipped closer to the ledge. He dragged his fingers out and closed his lips around her clit. Pulled lightly with his mouth and thrust his fingers in deep.
Her next cry scored her throat as her body thrashed and she lost control. Boiling waves kissed by electric currents crashed over and over inside her, the sensation so intense the muscles in her thighs tightened and her eyes teared. Cort shifted, pulling her to him with his fingers still inside her. The movement set her off again, and she buried her face against the side of his neck as she rode out the last wave, everything solid within washed away with the tide.
Delayed Penalty (The Dartmouth Cobras #5) Page 18
