Defensive Zone (The Dartmouth Cobras #2)

by Bianca Sommerland

  "No. I won't forget it. You could have hurt yourself here because Asher didn't have the decency to answer you. Not that I'm saying the way you reacted wasn't a little over-the-top, but you don't need a daily reminder that you don't matter to him." He pressed his fingers to her lips before she could object, bending down a bit to her eye level. "How about next time, you call me. If I don't answer, leave a nice long message—get it all off your chest. I will always call you back as soon as I can."

  "You really mean that, don't you?" She cocked her head, studying his face for any hint of a catch. "So what now?"

  "Now, how about you go put on something comfy and we settle in for a movie marathon." He strolled into her living room like he owned the place and found her DVD collection. His brow shot up. "Are these Asher's?"

  She hopped off the counter and went to check. "No, those are mine."

  "You like old Westerns?"

  "Yeah. So?"

  He grinned. "So we have a lot in common. Rock, paper, scissors for who gets to pick first."

  Ridiculous, but she went along with it, lost, and settled into the sofa while he set up The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly in the DVD player.

  Then he handed her the remote. "Just give me a sec, I'm going to raid your kitchen for snacks."

  "Landon—"

  "One word about your figure and I'm going to spank you."

  Ten minutes later he plopped down on the couch, setting down a bowl of popcorn and two bags of chips on the cushion between them.

  "If it's not too late, maybe we can watch Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid next?" She popped a piece of popcorn in her mouth and glanced over at him. "It's one of my favorites."

  "Sure. Then Tombstone?"

  "All right . . . ." She chewed slowly, leaning forward, her mouth watering as he ripped open a chip bag and then slipped an all dressed chip between his lips. Spices sprinkled over his bottom lip and chin. She had to tear her eyes away from the tasty sight. "How long you planning to stay?"

  "Not sure." He winked. "But I fully intend to be here when Asher gets back."

  Chapter Eight

  Loud moans woke Silver moments before her alarm went off. She glared at her clock, missing the days when 6 am was bedtime. Not that she really had to get up now. Owning the team meant setting her own schedule, but showing up late would only prove that she wasn't taking her job seriously.

  Which means Dean wins. So not happening.

  Pushing up from the bed, she gave a cat-like stretch, rolling her eyes as the moans grew even louder. Asher and Cedric were obviously having fun. And probably wanted her to join them. Arousal sped up her pulse and she nibbled at her bottom lip. Some make-up sex would be a good way to start the day. She hated fighting with Asher and he hadn't been too happy to find her asleep on the sofa with her head on Landon's lap.

  Maybe he's jealous. The thought made her smile, he wouldn't be jealous if he didn't care. She'd never wanted him to be all possessive, but things had changed. They'd either drift further apart or they'd take their relationship to the next level. The idea scared her a little, and yet . . . she didn't want to lose him. Most of the last eight months were a blur, but that first moment when she really noticed him would stick with her forever.

  Laughter all around her as she explained to the judge she thought the no parking only applied during the winter like some signs back home. This lawyer at her side, paid on a promise of a retainer once her agent finalized her latest gig. Hot guy in a light grey Armani suit. He'd put a comforting hand on her shoulder and rose, cleared his throat.

  Armed with a photo of the faded sign, Asher had approached the judge and pointed to the illegible words. "Seasonal parking is one possibility. Or maybe no parking during earthquakes? Hurricanes? Signage shouldn't be a guessing game, your Honor."

  Once the case was dropped, Asher had brought her back to his place and they spent the night having hot sex. Cedric showed up that morning after a business trip and Asher had introduced him as his boyfriend. Slightly awkward, but Cedric hadn't seemed to mind. Two weeks later they were both living with her.

  We had something. We just need to find it again.

  After shedding the pink, plaid pajama pants and white tank top she'd slept in, she made her way to Asher's room. A grunt made her pause. She held her breath and stepped into the open doorway.

  Asher's tanned flesh glistened with sweat as he grasped Cedric's hips and slowly eased his dick between Cedric's quivering ass cheeks. He thrust in to the hilt and pressed his chest to Cedric's back, kissing the nape of his neck and panting as he drew out.

  "I love your ass. You're still so fucking tight." He rocked forward and raked his fingers into Cedric's messy brown hair. "I could spend the day inside you, just feeling you clenching around me."

  Cedric pressed his forehead to the mattress and jutted his ass up, spreading his thighs to take Asher deeper. "More. Give me more."

  Silver swallowed as Asher rose, gliding out then slamming back in. They really were beautiful together, slender bodies, pale gold sunlight accenting their faded tans. Cedric had a softness to him, sweet passion in contrast to Asher's animal lust. And that lust seemed so harsh at times, devoid of love, but for Asher to let himself go like that with anyone was something special. He used to let go with her . . . but not anymore.

  Give him a reason to! Put yourself out there!

  She whispered his name, just loud enough to be heard over Cedric's pants. "Asher?"

  Asher turned his head without slowing, looking right at her as he spoke. "It's all yours, love. Take it. Tell me how much you want me."

  "I want you!" Cedric gasped as Asher pounded into him. "Pleasepleaseplease!"

  Licking her lips, Silver stepped forward. "I—"

  Asher smoothed his hands down Cedric's sides and went still. "You what? If you couldn't tell, we're in the middle of something."

  "I know, I just—"

  "Just what?"

  "Do you want me to . . . ." Suddenly, she felt ridiculous. They obviously didn't need her. Seeing her, standing there naked, had no affect on Asher. And Cedric didn't seem to notice her at all. What a stupid idea. She took a step back and shook her head. "Never mind."

  Digging his fingers into Cedric's hips, Asher narrowed his eyes at her. "What is it, Silver? You're feeling needy? Maybe you should have had your 'friend' take care of that last night."

  He is jealous. Hope sputtered to life and she dropped her hands to her sides. "It's not like that with him, Asher. I'm sorry if you—"

  "Damn it, why not?" Asher gently eased out of Cedric's ass and stood. "I've never stopped you from doing whatever you wanted with other guys!"

  "I know that." She frowned, confused. "But you know it doesn't mean anything. I love you!"

  "Silver, I'm gay."

  "And? That's never mattered before!"

  "And how long did you think we could go on like this? Seriously?" He sighed and raked his hair away from his face. "Look, we've had fun, but I'm done. You need things I can't give you. I'd hoped you'd find someone before—"

  "Before what?" She ground her teeth and looked from Asher to Cedric, who'd covered himself with the bed sheet. "Are you breaking up with me?"

  Cedric hunched his shoulders and muttered. "We're getting married."

  The weight of his words hit her gut like a cement block. "You're what?"

  "I proposed last night. Cedric said yes." Asher's tone was steady, almost defiant, as though he expected an argument.

  Closing her eyes, Silver leaned against the doorframe and did her best to fill her lungs with air. I put myself out there for this? For a 'we don't want you anymore'? "This doesn't make any sense. The way you acted last night . . . I thought . . . ."

  Asher sighed. "Silver, I still care about you. I don't like that guy. He's pushy and arrogant and if it gets out that you're fooling around with the players after what happened with Oriana—"

  "Fooling around with the players?" She let out a bitter laugh and locked down on her emotions. T
hey were fucking useless anyway. Her tone became a cold, mocking thing oozing between her lips. "Because I'm hanging around with one guy?"

  "People will talk."

  "Let them. I really don't give a fuck." Her lips curled. "Think of the publicity. It'll be good for the team."

  That's right. The team is all that matters. It's all Daddy's ever turned to you for. And he wanted you to get rid of Asher and Cedric anyway.

  "It wasn't when Oriana did it." Asher took a step towards her, brow furrowed, eyes strained. "Don't do anything stupid, Silver. I know you're pissed, but with your reputation—"

  "My reputation." Giving him a curt nod, she swiveled on her heels, tossing words over her shoulder like she didn't have a care in the world. "About time I lived up to it, don't you think?"

  * * * *

  Silver considered going straight to the locker room when she got to the forum. The images of stripping right in front of all those big men, still soaked with sweat from practice, had her pulse racing. The elevator doors closed twice before she forced herself inside and jammed her finger on the button for the fourth floor. In her office she paced back and forth, back and forth, willing herself to feel nothing, but all the while feeling too much. Erotic images filled her mind—Asher with Cedric, which hurt because they were moving on without her. Then she recalled her night with Dean . . .

  No! Not Dean. Don't think about him. If he knew . . .

  Groaning, she left her office and went to the bathroom. She wet her hands with cold water and smoothed them over her throat, ignoring the droplets that scattered over her hot pink silk shirt. Hands braced on the edge of the sink, she tried to bring order to the chaos in her mind. Why did this bother her so much? Fine, she felt a little used, but in all honesty, she'd used them too. For almost a year she'd called them her boyfriends, enjoying both the stability and the freedom of having them in her life. Asher understood when she had a bad day some rough sex would make it all better. Better sex than drugs, right?

  But she should have known, should have suspected, that one day their carefree little arrangement would end. Leaving her alone.

  Stop it. She scowled at herself in the mirror. You don't want a relationship anyway. You want a good fuck.

  Yes. A good fuck and everything would make sense again.

  So where to? A snarky voice in her head demanded. The locker room or the closest bar?

  "Uck. When did you get so desperate?" She turned her back on her reflection and fished in her purse for . . . there, gummy bears. A mouthful got her thinking clearly again. She really wasn't up to throwing herself at another man. Not after Asher rejecting her. Not after what had happened with Dean.

  Why the hell couldn't she get him out of her head? She had the strangest urge to see him. And it wouldn't go away. Back in her office, she buried herself in her work. But then considered going to ask him about the budget for the renovations.

  The numbers are right there. Figure it out.

  But she couldn't focus. Every time she blinked, she pictured him, holding her down, telling her he could give her what she needed. Taking control and overriding all her objections. The images made her just as wet as his actions had. She wanted him again, no matter how often she tried to tell herself otherwise.

  Did you forget him ratting you out to Daddy?

  No. She hadn't forgotten. But they needed to be able to work together. And to tell the truth, she'd forced his hand.

  You're just looking for excuses to see him.

  Maybe she was—she stood and undid the first few buttons of her shirt. Not that any excuse would matter. One look at her and he'd know exactly why she was there.

  You might want a legitimate one, just in case. That way you won't be completely humiliated when he rejects you too.

  * * * *

  Dean trudged into his office and threw his suit jacket over his desk chair. Usually he hung around during training camp to see how the men were doing, but he just couldn't focus today. All he kept hearing, over and over, was his daughter saying 'I hate you'.

  Why? Because her mother had called, making her monthly effort to show interest in her only child, and he hadn't found out until after he lectured Jami about staying up all hours drinking with her friends. Hell, he hoped she was just drinking. The way she'd blown up at him, screaming for him to 'leave her the fuck alone', made him wonder. After she'd broken down and told him her mother was pregnant . . . damn it, the right words just wouldn't come. She refused to let him hug her, or tell her it didn't matter. She blamed him for everything, told him he was a control freak and that's why her mother had left them.

  And maybe she was right. Macy had been interested in being a submissive when they first got together, but her interest waned—having a Dom in real life didn't live up to what she'd read in romance novels. He'd loved her so much he'd done his best to fit into the vanilla lifestyle she seemed to want, but it wasn't enough.

  Thank God that's over. At very least he didn't have to pretend anymore. Dominance wasn't a game for him, wasn't something he could switch on and off at will. Nor would he. Even now, just thinking about taking one of the many willing subs at the club, eased some of the tension from his body. A shallow relief, because none of them belonged to him, but there were benefits to that as well. He didn't have the time for a 24/7 style relationship, what with a team to run and a daughter to raise.

  And yet . . . he shook his head and let out a gruff laugh. Ever since he'd seen that woman in pink—even after learning that woman was Silver—the idea of taking on a sub of his own had taken root and wouldn't be shaken. Not just any sub either.

  You can't have Silver. She doesn't want this.

  His office door creaked open and he looked up.

  Silver stared at him, lips parted, eyes wide. "Dean?"

  He smiled and rested one hand on his desk. "Can I help you?"

  "No." She licked her bottom lip, one hand on the doorknob, knuckles white. "I don't know."

  Like hell she doesn't want this. The woman he saw before him wasn't the one who'd fucked with his team, who'd cursed him out, who'd left his bed in the middle of the night. She was the vulnerable woman who'd attracted him at the club. The one who needed what he had to offer. He straightened and held out his hand. "Come here."

  She took three steps before losing her nerve, but he met her halfway and circled her waist with his arms, backing her into the door to close it as he claimed her lips. She moaned in his mouth as he explored her with his tongue and the sound tore a growl from his throat. Her small body trembled and pressed against his, begging without words. He ground himself into her soft belly, letting her feel the effect she had on him.

  Then he slid his lips along her jaw and whispered in her ear. "Tell me what you want."

  "Fuck me." She curved her neck against his mouth and raked her fingers into his hair. "Just fuck me."

  His eyes narrowed, but he kept his lips on her throat so she wouldn't catch his response to her crude demand. His tone was gruff when he spoke. "And what do you need?"

  "Need?" She whimpered as he bit into the flesh above her collar. "What do you mean?"

  He brought his hand up to frame her jaw and forced her to look at him. "You came to me, pet. There are other men, but you came to me. I won't make this easy on you."

  "I don't care." She met his steady gaze for an instant, then her wet lashes fluttered shut. "Tell me what to do. I don't want to have to think about it."

  He hated that word. Want. But what she wanted and what she needed were one and the same at the moment, so he let it go. Bracing her with one hand under her elbow, he stepped back.

  "Strip."

  "Here?" She watched him lock the door and her throat worked as she swallowed. "But . . . I'm wearing a skirt."

  Dean folded his arms over his chest. "I won't repeat myself, pet."

  "Pet." She shook her head even as she brought her fingers to the buttons on her blouse. "Will it always be like this with you?"

  "Yes." His lips curved slightl
y. "But that isn't a problem, is it?"

  "Not now it isn't." She removed her shirt, then her skirt, hesitating when he arched a brow. "Everything?"

  "Everything." He reached out and touched her cheek with his fingertips. "You're not ashamed of your body. Why deny me?"

  She closed her eyes, removed her bra and panties, gasping in air as though the question had stole it from her. "I feel more naked with you."

  "Good." He latched onto her wrist and drew her to his desk, sweeping papers aside before lifting her up and sitting her on the edge. "I want you naked. Physically. Mentally." He curved his hand around her throat with just enough pressure to open her eyes and quicken her pulse. "Don't try to hide from me, Silver. I won't allow it."

  Shaking her head, she grabbed his collar and leaned forward. "You don't get it. I need to be fucked hard. That's it."

  "That's not all you need." He grabbed her hands and tugged, laying her out on the desk. "Listen to me, pet. We will not fuck." Admitting it out loud made his dick throb painfully, but he continued without pause. "I will take my time and enjoy each and every inch of you. And when I'm done, you'll thank me."

  Her hands fisted and she tried to sit up. "Like hell I will!"

  He chuckled and smoothed a hand over her quivering belly, lowering his head to lick one very hard little nipple. "Or maybe you'll thank me before I'm done. After I make you come once, twice—it doesn't matter. You'll say the words. Or scream them."

  A gasp escaped her as he thrust his fingers into her hot, wet pussy. When she wiggled her hips, he sucked her nipple into his mouth and bit just hard enough to warn her to stop moving.

  She took the hint and went perfectly still.

  "What do you say, Silver?"

  "Yes." Her body bowed as he drove his fingers in deep. "Yes, Sir!"

  You're mine, sweetheart. He used his thumb to stimulate her clit and rose up to kiss her swollen lips. You just don't know it yet.

  * * * *

  The desk warmed under Silver's body and her sweat slicked the glossed wood surface. Dean's fingers inside her, his lips on her breast, his hand holding hers high over her head—all kept her from moving much. But her heart fought to beat free of her ribcage and she squirmed restlessly as he teased her to the brink, slowing before she could throw herself over the edge. This wasn't at all what she'd planned, and yet, it felt too good to let protests leave the wide O of her lips. Dean was right. Somewhere, deep within, she'd known what he would demand from her. He'd told her once that dominance was part of the package—not in so many words, but she couldn't act like she didn't know what he was about. Maybe it would be an issue if things went long term—which they won't, so don't even go there—but right now surrendering meant not thinking. And she didn't want to think. She needed to feel.