Defensive Zone (The Dartmouth Cobras #2)

by Bianca Sommerland

  "Luke Carter," the little boy said.

  Someone behind her chuckled. "I think that's for me, hot stuff."

  She sidestepped and watched the young forward who she remembered from the preseason game, and the club, who everyone called Carter, crouch down to sign the boy's hat.

  "You play?" Carter asked after putting the cap on the boy's head. The boy nodded vigorously, but didn't speak. "Oh yeah? What position?"

  The boy squeaked. "Left wing. Just like you."

  "Good man." Carter cuffed the boy's chin and straightened. "Where are your parents? You want to take a picture or something?"

  Eyes wide, the boy glanced over his shoulder and shouted. "Mom! Mom, it's Luke Carter! Luke Carter!"

  A woman with a baby carrier and a stroller rushed over, patting her tiny infant's head as it wailed. In the stroller, a little girl with sweet tiny pigtails echoed the baby's cries. "Peter, I told you to stay with me!"

  "Luke Carter!" The boy pointed at Carter and rolled his eyes at his mother who'd managed to stop the baby's hollering with a pacifier. "I couldn't stay with you while you drooled over Sloan Callahan! Carter is my favorite player!"

  The woman blushed and glanced over at Silver. "I wasn't, I just—" Her eyes widened. "Oh! Aren't you Silver Delgado? I loved your last movie!"

  Heat spilled over Silver's cheeks. Not many people recognized her from her movies. Most were low budget and cheesy. The last had been all right, a comedy romance with a star people actually knew, but she'd played the slutty best friend and it wasn't anything to brag about. "Thanks. It was pretty good."

  "Pretty good? Oh my God, I know you were playing a minor role, but I really felt for you. Sex was the only way you knew how to connect with men and I could tell you were so afraid to get involved and get hurt. I was hoping they'd make a sequel so we could find out what happened to you."

  Something about the woman's assessment made her very uncomfortable. The part had been pretty easy to play, but she hadn't gone for all the depth the woman apparently saw. She'd just followed the script. "I'm so happy to hear you enjoyed it, but unfortunately, the movie wasn't popular enough for them to consider a sequel."

  "Oh . . . ." The woman rolled the stroller back and forth, tensing as the little girl let out a piercing scream. "You'll do other movies though, right?"

  Silver shrugged and eyed the stroller bound toddler. Opening her purse, she peaked inside and took out a lollypop, careful not to let the girl see it. She glanced at the mother. "Is it okay . . . ?"

  "Go ahead." Rocking on her heels and murmuring to the baby, the woman came to Silver's side and watched her offer the little girl a bright pink lollypop. "Go ahead, Sandra."

  A little hand plucked the lollypop from Silver. Big brown eyes met hers. And Sandra's adorable face broke into a heart melting smile. "Thank you."

  "You're welcome." Silver smiled back, then straightened. "We should go in before you're late, Carter."

  Carter looked at his watch. "Ah sh—shoot. Yeah. But I promised the kid a picture."

  The mother quickly took out her phone and snapped a few pictures with Carter and the boy. Then she snapped one of Silver. "I hope you don't mind. My friends will never believe I met you in person without evidence!"

  "That's fine." Pictures she could handle. They'd once been part of her daily routine. "It was very nice to meet you."

  After saying goodbye, she and Carter hurried into the stadium. There were few people hanging around, which meant the game was about to start.

  Carter stopped her with a hand on her shoulder before she could return to the bleachers. "You were great out there."

  "So were you." She took a moment to really see him, this young man who was about her age, who drove the other players, and the ladies, nuts. Decent looking, with short blond hair and nice blue eyes, but it was the edge of laughter, the ne'er-do-well appeal, that set him apart. He was the perfect kind of guy to have a bit of fun with. "Are you going to the club tonight?"

  "Yeah." His lashes lowered into a hooded gaze and he leaned forward. "I'm learning a few new tricks. Why? Are you?"

  "Yes." She fingered his collar and licked her bottom lip. "See you there?"

  "I'll find you." His hand lifted, and when she didn't object, he trailed his finger down her throat. "Maybe I can give you a taste of what I've learned."

  "I'd like that." She checked to make sure no one was watching and then got up on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. "Just promise me one thing."

  "What?"

  "You'll give me everything I ask for."

  "Baby, that won't be a problem." He nuzzled his face into her hair. "Just don't expect breakfast in the mornin', okay? I'm not that kinda guy."

  "Good." She stepped back and patted his cheek. "Because I'm not that kinda girl."

  * * * *

  Landon slammed his blocker into his sports bag, on top of the rest of his equipment. Sweaty, half-naked male bodies moved around the tight confined of the locker room, stinking it up since most of the men didn't want to use the showers. The floor was covered in a puddle that smelled like sewage.

  Winning had put most of the men in a good mood, with a few notable exceptions. Callahan avoided everyone as he changed and stormed out with a don't-fuck-with-me look on his face. Mason followed shortly after, relatively quiet, though he paused to tell their youngest players they'd done well.

  Perron sat on a table in the corner of the locker room, speaking softly. "She looks fine, sugar. Yes, Dean was with her. No, she hasn't spoken to him yet—I wouldn't worry . . . okay, so why don't you call her?"

  He was probably talking to Oriana. About Silver. And Landon was pretty sure his name had been mentioned.

  Before coming in here to get changed, he'd tried to find Silver, but she was already gone. Leaving Richter to deal with wrapping up the event. Richter looked distracted, which troubled Landon. He'd already decided Richter was the best man for her, and he wouldn't come between them, but all that was based on the fact that Richter could take care of her. Which he couldn't do if he wasn't with her.

  Chill, Bower. Richter's got this. Stick with the program.

  The program being showing Silver she needed him. Because she did.

  She needs you or you need her?

  A bit of both. But so what? They had fun together and he liked knowing she could come to him with anything that bothered her. Which he wasn't so sure of anymore. Not because of anything he'd done—not that he was aware of anyway. He hadn't pressured her in any way, hadn't done the one thing he knew would scare her off . . .

  Or maybe he had. It wouldn't take much. The wrong look. A touch. If she thought he wanted more than friendship she'd—she'd put up a wall between them.

  He pressed his eyes shut. Damn it, he had fucked up. Those little moments that came so naturally added up to all he'd tried to avoid. He should have tried harder. He'd done exactly what he'd promised he wouldn't. There was no doubt about it. All that he'd tried to hide came out in actions rather than words.

  And she knew.

  Maybe he could fix that by showing her the other side of him. If she saw him at the club, as a Dom, one who hadn't laid claim on her—maybe then she'd relax. He made a face at the thought of taking another woman when all he wanted was—

  Get a fucking grip!

  Right. He wouldn't go there. What he wanted didn't matter. She could find a man to fuck anywhere. And hopefully, if Richter was half the man Landon thought he was, she would get much more.

  So where did he fit in?

  We're friends. Nothing will change that. The word had turned into a goddamned mantra. Without them he might have put up a fight. Done everything in his power to get Silver to see him and all he could offer. But it was too late. His sister called him stubborn. Whatever. He'd set his course and he wouldn't waver from it. Silver desperately needed a friend and he would give her one.

  "So, Carter. I saw you out there with Silver." Demyan's voice cut over the lingering chatter from the other men. "Looked like
you two were getting pretty close. You next in line?"

  Carter cocked his head. "You hit a dry spell, man? Need to hear about my sex life to get off?"

  "Ah, I was right. You are going to fuck her." Demyan folded his arms over his bare chest and propped himself against the lockers. "She's not picky, is she? Can't wait to show her what a real man feels like."

  "Oh yeah?" Carter stood. "Well, think what you want, but I'd make other plans if I were you. The girl's got standards and you are so below."

  Demyan laughed. "You think so? Kid, let's clear something up. She didn't bring me here because she thought I'd be good for the team. She took one look at me and creamed her panties. Makes me feel a little cheap, but I'm sure being ball deep in that hot cunt will help me get over it."

  Landon didn't recall standing. Or moving. The next thing that reached him was the crunch of bone under his fist. A spray of blood. And the feral satisfaction of feeling a fist hit his jaw before Demyan's body dented the locker behind him.

  "You broke my nose, you fucker!" Demyan threw all his weight into his forward lunge. "I'm going to put you in rehab."

  A blocked punch. A swift elbow to the ribs. Hands tugging at him. Blood blurring his vision.

  "Talk about her like that again and I'll fucking bury you." Landon struggled against the arm locked around his throat. "You're dirt! You're fucking scum! If you ever touch her—"

  "I'll touch her all right!" Demyan spat on the floor and twisted to free himself from Carter and the back-up goalie, Ingerslov. "I'll fuck the bitch so good she'll scream my name whenever she lets you fuck her. You pathetic. Crushing on that little whore."

  "Let me go!" Landon thrashed, stopping himself inches from driving his elbow into Perron's gut. He didn't want to hurt Perron. The man was decent. But when he got his hands on Demyan—"He's dead! He's fucking dead!"

  "Get him out of here!" Perron grunted as Landon slammed him into the lockers. "Now!"

  It took Perron and two other men to restrain Landon as Carter and Ingerslov dragged Demyan out. Landon growled and wrenched away from them for a split second before Perron punched him in the face.

  Black and red spotted Landon's vision as he slumped onto the bench. His head rang.

  Silver. Keep Demyan away from Silver. He lurched to his feet.

  Perron shoved him back down. "Get a grip!"

  "That bastard doesn't get to talk about her like that!" Landon panted, his lung searing worse than they had during the game. "He doesn't get to touch her!"

  "Listen to me." Perron crouched in front of him. "I'll talk to Oriana. Tell her what Scott said. I get it, he's an asshole and she doesn't need him messing with her. But this won't help anything."

  Landon groaned and hung his head. Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell was wrong with him? Perron was right. This wouldn't change anything. But neither would getting Oriana involved. "Silver won't listen."

  "Then she's going to get hurt." Perron slapped his shoulder and shook his head. "It sucks, I know, but all you can do is be there for her. Oriana said you two are just friends. Is that true?"

  "Yeah." Landon stared at his bloody fist and nodded. "Just friends."

  Just fucking friends.

  Chapter Eighteen

  "No, don't come pick me up. I'll see you there." Silver carefully applied another coat of lipstain. No chance of smearing it when she started doing naughty things. "Speaking of which, there's something I should tell you."

  "Yes?" Dean sounded much, much too calm over the phone. Kinda made her nervous. "What is it?"

  "Tonight I'm . . . ." Find the right words. Damn, there are no right words! "I'm not going as your sub. I can't—not yet. We've had fun, but if I'm going to explore my . . . submissive side, if I even have one, I have to do it my way."

  "I see." He went silence for exactly five seconds. "Which means what? Just so we're clear."

  She bit her lip. Stupid. Now she'd have to put on another coat. "Which means if I get involved in a scene, you don't interfere. That's how it works at your club, right?"

  "In other words, this . . . scene, won't be with me."

  Well, at least I don't have to spell it out. "No. It won't be. And I know you won't like it—"

  "Why should I care?"

  Ouch! She frowned at her reflection. "I'm not saying you should. I just wanted to be up front with you. This whole lifestyle may work for me. I doubt it, but hey, you gave me a good time. Maybe someone else can. Someone who won't ask me to kneel and lick their feet."

  "When have I ever asked you to do that?"

  "You're too intense, all right! I want the dummy 101 version, not the advanced."

  "Well, I'm sure that won't be too hard to find." He let out a harsh laugh. "It is my club, so if you change your mind, I'll be around."

  "Sure, but . . . ." She had to speak fast. She had a feeling he was going to hang up on her. "This changes nothing at work, okay? We'll still be cool?"

  "Of course."

  Dial tone. Wonderful. Her excitement about the night dimmed like a half dead light bulb. Her body was still raring to go, but her head was doing that 'what if?' thing. Stupid brain. This didn't need to be all complicated. She owed Dean nothing. Absolutely nothing.

  So why did it feel like she was planning to cheat on him?

  Single lady? Got it? Get it? Good!

  Dean didn't own her. No one owned her.

  Wondering around her apartment, she froze beside the empty room and closed her eyes. Asher and Cedric had moved out. No big fuss, they'd just packed their things while she was gone and left a note. Or, well, Asher left a note. Cedric wouldn't. Over the last year, she'd imagined a connection, but it was gone like thin smoke in the wind. As make believe as their entire relationship.

  Asher wanted to keep in touch, but the bastard probably just wanted his job back. Dean could handle the position of GM and president as he had for years, but the team still needed a lawyer.

  Tonight, none of that mattered. This wasn't about work, this was about getting off. Something she could probably do alone with one of many toys, but last weekend, and all her time with Dean, haunted her. Maybe she had some freaky needs. Some she'd never considered. Except once. But back then she'd panicked. Tonight she wouldn't because Carter wasn't . . . uber. He was just a man who got kink. Like she got kink. Who could give her kink.

  Sounded good anyway.

  She checked herself out one last time in the hall mirror. Strappy black fuck-me-shoes—eat your heart out Sloan, chew real good—and a pink checkered dress with the sides cut out that fit like a glove. She was a cover model for wet-dreams-r-us and a man would have to be dead to resist her.

  Carter wouldn't be able to. But she couldn't keep his face fixed in her head as she pictured a man stripping her of her expensive dress, pulling down her thong, bending her over . . . .

  Dean's face came first. Then Landon's.

  Too much. Her brain needed to go on vacation. Time to let her libido take charge. For tonight she was a wet pussy in high heels.

  And nothing else.

  Less than fifteen minutes later, she parked in front of the club, then sauntered out, all smiles for the invisible cameras. The bouncer recognized her and let her in without a second glance. She'd seen him flirting with the men behind the red-ropped barrier, so she didn't take offense. He didn't need to notice her.

  A strangled scream stopped her in her track.

  Fuck. I hope Oriana's not here!

  She surveyed the crowded room and found the screamer. Not her sister. Just a woman riding a contraption with a dildo sticking out of it while a man yanked on a chain attached to her nipples and a woman pressed a vibrating rod against her clit.

  Silver's thighs clenched and her nipples twinged. She concentrated on the music, wild wailing guitars and a heart pumping drumbeat, and wandered deeper into the main room. The sounds around her became part of the music. She kept her gaze locked on the bar, avoided looking left or right, pretending this was just another bar and nothing scary was
happening in the shadows.

  "I've got a spot ready for us." A hot breath stirred her hair and she jumped as though the air contained an electric charge. Carter chuckled. "Need a minute?"

  She tilted her head back and smiled at him. "Not at all. Do you?"

  "No." He took her hand and let her to an empty station at the back of the room. Nothing special, just an ottoman with chains. Occupied by two women and another man.

  "Chicklet, I can't." The other man, who looked like a cherub with his golden curls, someone she thought she recognized, but wasn't sure, knelt and pressed his forehead against a very tall woman's thighs. "I'm sorry, it's just too weird."

  "It's okay, Tyler. But Laura needs a top. Can you handle her for tonight?" The big woman, Chicklet, petted the head of the cherub and drew the other woman to her feet. "She deserves a reward."

  Tyler gazed up at Chicklet with nothing short of worship. "She'd rather get it from you. And so would I."

  Laura's lips parted. Then snapped shut. She glanced over at Silver and her cheeks reddened.

  "Eyes down, Laura." Chicklet smiled when the petite woman dropped her gaze to her bare toes, then brought her attention back to the young man on his knees. "I know you both enjoy spending time with me, but you need some bonding time, and I promised I'd help Carter out. I'm one of the few experienced Dommes and the boss man has decided I know enough to train him."

  "Tell Callahan to do it."

  "Callahan is busy. And I always work with Carter. You know that."

  "Yes, but with her?"

  Chicklet frowned. "You're pushing it. I don't have to explain myself to you. You wanted to step it up. Have you changed your mind?"

  "No!" Tyler shook his head and bowed down low, kissing his mistresses' booted feet. "I'm sorry. I need . . . I don't know. But I haven't changed my mind."

  "Then go." Chicklet pursed her lips as he shot to his feet and ambled away with Laura a step behind. Then she ran her hands over her leather clad hips and faced Silver. "Sorry about that. I'm Chicklet. But you should call me, Ma'am. Dean is big on protocol."

  "Got it." Silver moved to shake the woman's hand, but thought better of it and let her arms hang at her sides. "So what do I do?"