“I have a confession to make.” Justina rose up on her knees, giggling as he sucked on the plump, juicy strawberry she held to his lips. “I’m glad it’s Silver I got to watch.”
“Really?” He bit the strawberry, savoring the sharp, sweet flavor before pulling Justina down to taste her even sweeter lips. “Do tell.”
She bit her bottom lip, her cheeks almost as red as the berries when he finally let her up. “Because she’s in a lot of my hottest dreams. She’s…she everything I wish I could be. Strong, smart, and sexy. Some of the Ice Girls talk about her and call her a slut. They say she fucked the whole team, like that makes her horrible. But even if it’s true…”
“You think that’s hot.”
“Clearly. I know you’ve fucked most of the team.”
“Not most. And I only admitted to sleeping with a few players. I never said who.”
“Will you?”
“No. But you don’t really want me to. You want to look at them and wonder. Picture me with all the different men. Nothing I could say would be as erotic as your fantasies.”
“I doubt that, but you’re right.” She bit into a strawberry and rested her head on his shoulder. “But I’m tired of the fantasies. I like that at least one is finally real.”
“Which one, pet?” He already knew, but he needed to hear it from her. To remind her why she hadn’t slipped out the minute the sun peeked through the curtains, waking them both.
She bit his shoulder playfully, letting her eyes drift shut as he brushed her hair aside to kiss her neck. “You, Shawn. Just…stay real. For a little bit longer.”
The trainer moved away, motioning to Coach Shero to let him know Shawn was good to go.
As Shawn hit the ice, his focus back on the game, he let the words he’d said to Justina play over again in his mind, hoping she believed them.
“This is real, Röschen. The game was just a fantasy for me once. Just a dream of all I wanted to have. Watch me play and you’ll see a dream that’s become reality. One that lasts.”
Justina was watching him now, from somewhere up in the arena. And that had him moving a little faster. Hitting a little harder. He caught a sharp pass and drove for the net, one goal in mind.
This one’s mine.
And so are you.
Standing in the pressbox, Justina picked Kimber right up off her feet and held the young girl close. One plus to not being small and skinny. And the teen weighed next to nothing.
The girl needed to be held.
A few feet away, Sahara tried to calm Bran as the little boy sobbed. She didn’t look steady on her feet, but Dean stood to one side of her, while Silver stood at the other, both offering support.
Pacing along the huge glass window overlooking the ice, Ford raked his fingers through his hair, muttering to himself. “He’s a strong man. He skated off the ice with only a bit of help. That’s good, right?” He looked over at Dean, who didn’t answer him. “That has to be good. But…what’s up with the fucking refs? Are they watching the fucking game?”
“Ford, please…” Sahara hid her face against Silver’s neck. “Please stop.”
Justina focused on Kimber, keeping her close as she lowered the girl to her feet. She used her thumbs to dry the girl’s tears. “Ford’s right. Dominik is strong. Remember all the times you saw your brother get hurt? You were scared for him, but he was fine.”
“Right.” Kimber sniffed and wrapped her arms around Justina’s waist. “But that man that hit Dominik is a bloody cunt. I hope someone cracks his fucking skull open.”
“Kimber!” Sahara bit her bottom lip as Bran held his arms out for Ford. It seemed to bother her when the toddler didn’t want to stay with her. But she handed him over and crouched down in front of Kimber. “Sweetie, you can’t say those words. Dominik would be very upset if he heard you talking like that.”
“Bloody hell, why the fuck does it matter what I say? Why are you still fucking here? You should be with him!” Kimber’s eyes teared as she drew away from both Justina and Sahara. “He needs you!”
Sahara pressed her eyes shut, tears spilling down her cheeks. “You need me. You and Bran.”
“No, we don’t! We’ll be fine!”
Bran started to cry again.
Silver stepped up to Kimber’s side and put her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Let’s try that again, sweetheart. How about ‘Sahara, I love that you’re worried about us, but I need to know Dominik isn’t alone. Silver will take care of me. And will make sure I understand why I shouldn’t say the ‘C’ word.”
“You gonna give me a fucking lecture too, old lady?” Kimber jerked away from Silver and stormed to the other side of the glass.
And Silver stared after her, lips parted.
Dean leaned close, kissing her forehead. “I know how to handle temperamental teenagers. Let me talk to her.”
“But…” Silver shook her head, speaking in a hushed voice. “She called me old.”
Obviously holding back a smile, Dean shrugged. “Which makes me ancient. She’s little more than a baby, Silver. Don’t take it personally. She’s hurting and lashing out. Jami used to say much worse.” He hesitated and glanced over at Sahara. “Go meet him at the hospital.” He put his hand to his ear, likely listening to something on the earpiece. “He’s stable, but he’s been taken to the general in an ambulance. The EMT managed to get him breathing again.”
All the color left Sahara’s face. She looked from Bran to Kimber, clearly torn.
Justina wasn’t sure she could help, she’d only spent a bit of time with the kids, but they were comfortable with her. She pulled Sahara into her arms and hugged her tight. “I’ll stay with them, Sahara. They still need you, no matter what Kimber said. But Dominik needs you more.”
“Okay.” Sahara straightened and took a deep breath. “I just…I want to be a good mom. And I know I’m not their mother, but—”
“But you’re the closest thing they have to one. And shut up, you’re rocking it!” Justina smiled at Sahara, nudging her toward the door. “Go. And call me with updates.”
“I will.”
Once Sahara was gone, Justina wasn’t sure what to do with herself. Kimber was doing her best to piss Dean off, but he kept speaking to her calmly as the second intermission began.
At the other end of the pressbox, Cort was standing alone, his features tight, watching Ford as the other man walked with Bran around the room. Justina didn’t know Cort well, but she hated feeling useless. Something was bothering him.
Silver followed her gaze then took her arm and led her toward him, speaking under her breath. “My brother is a little slow when it comes to the third in his relationship. As a good future sister-in-law, I think I need to do damage control. You’re cute, and you’re going to help me.”
“Umm…how?” Justina might admire Silver, but she also knew the woman could be a little nuts. What in the world was she up to?
“Cort, have you met Justina?” Silver’s tone was light and cheery. “It just occurred to me that you’re both new to this open relationship thing. Maybe you should chat.”
Cort eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about, Silver?”
“Well, I heard my brother was making out with Scott. Apparently, we have the same taste in men.” Silver smiled sweetly. “And since Justina’s with Pisch…well, she’s getting a crash course in just about everything. You look upset, and she’s not bothered by any of it. Maybe she can give you some tips.”
Rather than roll his eyes, or laugh—which Justina half expected—Cort swung away from them and cracked his fist into the wall.
The room went quiet.
“Do you think this is a joke, Silver? My relationship is falling apart because of this fucking game. And after seeing one of my closest friends get…” Cort swallowed hard as he noticed both Kimber and Bran staring at him. He lowered his voice. “I’m in charge of security, and I had to clear the way for the ambulance. I know exactly the condition Dominik’s in. So no, I do
n’t give a fuck if your brother takes after you and fucks everyone on this goddamn team. Have at it. And whatever you’re playing at, leave me out of it.”
Folding her arms over her chest, Silver shook her head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think—”
“I’m not surprised. He doesn’t either.” Cort looked down at his hand, which was dripping blood onto the black tiled floor. He shot Justina a forced smile. “I’m sorry, honey. Pisch is a great guy, but some people play the game so long…” He glanced from Silver to Ford. “That it’s all they care about. And I’m not talking about hockey. Please excuse me.”
Whispering to Bran, Ford approached Justina and Silver, glaring at his sister. “What did you do?”
“I was just trying to help.” Silver hugged herself tight. “I didn’t know—”
“Here’s a tip. I can fuck up my relationships all on my own. Don’t help. Ever.” Ford kissed Bran’s hair, gently unwrapped the boy’s arms from around his neck, and handed him to Justina. “Remember what I said, buddy. Tell a girl she’s pretty and she’ll give you anything you want.”
Bran giggled as he clung to Justina. He gave her the most heart-melting look, not even seeming to notice Ford had taken off. “Tina is so pretty.”
Justina laughed and moved away from Silver, who was hissing something to herself and seemed to be close to punching something just like Cort had.
Sitting the little boy on a high stool near the refreshment table, Justina bent down and smiled at him. “What do you want, cutie?”
“Cake!” Bran looked over at the table with its impressive dessert spread. “All the cakes!”
That he spoke to her, when he rarely spoke to anyone, had Justina wanting to give him anything he asked for. But her little brother had a sweet tooth too, and she’d cleaned up puke too often to make the mistake of letting a child indulge again.
But she’d learned a neat trick with Chris that she hoped would work with Bran. “I’ll make you a deal. You can have a little piece. Then a glass of milk. If you’re still hungry after that, you can have more.”
Pouting, Bran folded his arms and shook his head. “All.”
Stubborn little thing. Justina placed her hands on her hips. “Bran Ladd, we’re negotiating. Do you know what that means?”
He shook his head again.
“It means I will let you have a treat, but only with the milk. You know what you get if you don’t agree?”
He shrugged.
“Nothing. No cake for you.” She picked up a paper plate and a plastic cup. “So…milk?”
“Yes. Bran likes milk.” Bran flashed her a toothy smile. “And cake!”
“Perfect! So we’ve got a deal!” She laughed at Bran’s enthusiastic nod. “Which one do you want to try first?”
After two slices of cake, and two small cups of milk, Bran was full. And tired. As the third period began, Justina held him in a big cushy chair Dean had brought close to the glass for her. While Bran fell asleep, Kimber curled up on the arm of the chair and rested her head on Justina’s shoulder.
Justina watched the game, breathing easy for the first time that night. She loved her own family, but for some reason, being here was like having so much more. With all the drama, and the heartache, and every single mess that came with a group of people who cared for one another, the Cobras were quickly becoming her extended family.
And being part of this made her feel special. Wanted.
Not that she didn’t at home…
Or, well, maybe sometimes she didn’t. She hadn’t seen her parents in days. And the last time she spoke to her mother, all she’d had to say was someone needed to pick her brother up after practice. And…and was Justina being careful with her diet, because her jeans looked a little too snug.
None of her friends had her looking in the mirror, trying to see what was wrong with her. Shawn called her beautiful as though it was a simple truth.
One she’d started to believe.
Ford found Cort in the parking lot. Beating the shit out of a cement pillar.
He winced as he saw the state of Cort’s knuckles, but he knew better than to catch Cort off guard when he was like this. Thankfully, Cort didn’t get in this headspace very often anymore. Akira would have a hard time seeing him lashing out. Losing control.
He held on so tight for her, Ford had almost forgotten Cort didn’t say a word until he reached the breaking point. Would hold everything in until it had to come out. And he wouldn’t let that pain come down on anyone but himself.
“Cort…” Ford approached his best friend, careful not to get too close in case Cort was still in a blind rage. “Cort, can we—”
Cort closed the distance between them, fisting his bloody hands in Ford’s white shirt. “You can answer one question for me. What the fuck are you doing? We have something amazing, and you’re going to fuck it all up.”
“Damn it, Cort. We argue about the game. It’s not going to fuck up our relationship.” Ford winced as his back hit the wall hard. “What Silver said...don’t listen to her.”
“Why not? She’s right. You’ve decided we have an open relationship, which is real cool. So glad you discussed it with me and Akira beforehand.”
Ford sighed and shook his head. “Is this about me kissing Scott?”
“Yes!” Cort shook his head. “No! I don’t fucking know, all right? I hated seeing it, but I shouldn’t give a fuck. Just like I shouldn’t want to call my dad and take a hit out on that Kennel guy. Dominik is fine.”
“Is he?” Ford frowned when Cort let him go and turned away. “Are you?”
Growling, Cort fisted his hands at his sides, stretching the cuts on his knuckles. Blood spilled from his fists. “No one fucks with my friends.”
“I know, but we don’t live in that world anymore, Cort. You can’t kill the guy. I’ll push for an inquiry. Maybe he’ll will get suspended and fined.” Ford put his hand on Cort’s arm. “I’ll do what I can.”
Head bowed, Cort nodded. “Yeah, I know. But what about us?”
“What about us? Jesus, your hands are a mess, man. Let me—”
“Don’t touch me.” Cort jerked away, gritting through his teeth. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about, Ford. Tell me what you want from me.”
Ford swallowed. He wasn’t sure how to answer that. Things had changed between them. He’d considered the man a brother for so long. Getting into the lifestyle hadn’t changed that. Cort was fucking awesome with a flogger in his hand. Both Ford and Akira had loved all the time he’d spent practicing. But Akira didn’t enjoy pain as much as Ford did. So when Cort started using the whip, it was on Ford alone.
Akira needed a Dominant man. She had two, and they worked well together to make her happy. That had been more than enough.
Until it wasn’t. She’d noticed before either of them had. Ford wasn’t sure when it started. A little more tension in the bedroom. Enough that they rarely took her together anymore. Their big house had plenty of room for them to avoid one another for days if they wanted.
They’d managed. And they’d blamed team rivalries. If the Cobras made it to the Eastern conference finals, they would be facing Detroit. No one would wonder why he and Cort were barely speaking then.
But Ford knew it wasn’t about the game at all.
He was confused, and he didn’t have a fucking clue what to do about it. Kissing Scott had cleared one thing up. He’d enjoyed it too much to claim to be perfectly straight.
But he didn’t want Scott.
And he couldn’t want Cort.
“Coward.” Cort shoved him against the wall. “Do you think I got into this lifestyle, training with someone like Dominik no less, and I can’t see right through a sub that doesn’t know how to ask for what they need?”
Ford glared at Cort. “I’m not a fucking sub, Cort.”
“Right. You’re a big tough Dom. One who’s learned how to kneel and hand me the whip before Dominik or Sloan helps me restrain you to the cross. One
who talks all kinds of shit before admitting he needs a scene to get out of his own head for a bit.” Cort braced a hand on his shoulder, holding him in place as he moved closer. “You might not submit to just anyone, Ford. But you’ve always done what I told you to. You might bitch, but things go a lot better when you give in.”
Giving in sounded like a horrible idea. Cort was scary, looking at him like this. And it shouldn’t be hot. He knew exactly how dangerous Cort could be.
He’d never been afraid of Cort, but he’d also been a stupid kid. He’d grown up, and while he might push Cort sometimes, he knew when he’d pushed him too far.
Somehow, he’d done just that, without even trying.
“Cort, I get it. I pissed you off, and I’m sorry. Let me take care of your hands. We’ll get an update on Dominik. Go back and finish watching the game.”
“Give me your shirt, Ford.”
Ford’s brow furrowed, but he pulled off his charcoal suit jacket, then his shirt. Handed it to Cort.
Cort tore the expensive shirt into long strips, using his teeth and his big, bloody hands. He wrapped his knuckles, then tossed what was left of the shirt aside, bringing his hands back to Ford’s shoulders, curving one around Ford’s throat.
“Fuck the game. Tell me…” Cort ran his thumb up and down the length of Ford’s throat. “What did it feel like, kissing Scott? I remember you as a little punk, talking shit about guys you thought were ‘gay’.”
“I grew up.” Ford shuddered as Cort put more pressure on his throat. “You said a lot of shit yourself.”
“I did.” Cort leaned closer, his breath hot against Ford’s lips. “But you didn’t answer my question. You kissed a man, Ford. How did it feel?”
Fuck this. Ford reached out and grabbed the front of Cort’s shirt. He smiled when Cort lost his cool detachment. “It felt wrong. He’s good and all, but there’s only so much he can give me.”
“Yeah?” Cort rested his forehead against Ford’s. “What can’t he give you?”
“He wouldn’t get off on hurting me.” The words that came out hit Ford so hard, he wasn’t sure he could say more. He’d been pissed off for so long. Frustrated. Messed up because what he wanted didn’t make sense.
Line Brawl: The Dartmouth Cobras #8 Page 28
