GAME MISCONDUCT (The Dartmouth Cobras)

by Sommerland, Bianca

  Her tiny nose wrinkled and her nostrils flared. “Definitely. Why, do you have an idea?”

  “I might.” But she wouldn’t like it. Fuck, he wished he could come up with something else—anything else. Instead, he had to use the one thing that would remind her of why she’d ditched him in the first place. “What would you think of involving the other guys?”

  The look on her face was priceless. Lips parted, cheeks cherry red, she stared at him like he’d just asked her to strip and strut around the forum naked. His lips quirked. The next part of his plan was almost as bad.

  “The other guys?” Her voice squeaked and she turned even redder. “How many of them?”

  Hell, she thinks I mean the whole team! “Just four. My line and two defenseman.”

  “Ah.” She rubbed her bare arms, then covered her cleavage with her hand. “And what exactly do I do with them all?”

  “You don’t have to do anything.” He reached out and curved his hand under her jaw, angling her face up so she could see the camera in the hall right between the locker-room and the bathroom. “We’ll just make it look like you did.”

  Her hand slid up to her throat. “Oh.”

  Oh? Frowning, he studied her face. She blinked at him and pulled away.

  Very strange. She seemed nervous, but Mason always said dilated pupils combined with rapid blinking and—he watched her tongue dart over her bottom lip—that, were signs of arousal. His blood surged downward and his palms got damp. He’d been worried about scaring her, but his suggestion seemed to have had a very different effect.

  The metallic heels of her boots clicked as she walked across the room, watching him through the mirror. “So you think evidence that I’m . . . fooling around with the team . . . you think that will be enough?”

  “I don’t know—Paul’s got some pride; I don’t see him wanting to be associated with something like that, but this is more about your father.” He paused, meeting her eyes in the reflection. “I have a reputation, Oriana. There are a lot of rumors about me sharing women. If I bring the guys in here, and then walk out with you half naked—”

  All the color left her face. “Half naked? You want me to walk out of here—”

  He quickly stepped up behind her to hug her before she got all upset for nothing. “In a jersey or somethin’, I know you’re not into exhibitionism.”

  “Max.” She squirmed in his arms until she was facing him. Her fingers hooked over the collar of his white undershirt. “I might—”

  Please don’t say it. Not unless you . . . Breath held, eyes shut, he waited. And waited.

  “Um.” She gave his shirt a little tug. He looked at her, and she looked away. “Let’s get this over with.”

  “Sure.” He ground his teeth, then glanced at her hand. “You’ll have to let me go.”

  “I know, I just . . .” Her fingers slid up the length of his throat. She licked her lips again, deliberately, as though savoring the last drop of something sweet. Or slightly salty. “Will you—”

  “God, woman! You’re going to drive me insane!” He took her face between his hands and kissed her, groaning when her lips and body fitted against his. Slick, peach-flavored lip gloss smeared everywhere. The depths of her mouth held pure, hot sin. But the tentative touch of her tongue was almost innocent. Letting out a gruff sound, he deepened the kiss, loving how she clung to his shoulders and took everything he gave. In this moment, she accepted him. Because her head wasn’t telling her not to.

  This woman—this unhindered, passionate woman—usually hid from the world. But he’d gotten glimpses in the past of all her many facets. The sweet, eager-to-please girl. The clever imp. The hot-blooded tease—who didn’t often come out to play.

  I won’t let you stash them and be all proper, darlin’. Not this time.

  He caressed her tongue with his, then grazed the sensitive spot on the roof of her mouth. She bunched up the collar of his shirt in her hands like she was afraid he’d get away. And he wanted to stay with her more than she’d ever understand.

  If only his needs were different. Or hers.

  But his body’s needs seemed normal enough now. His pulse raced and his dick got hard. Like any guy who wanted a woman.

  “I’m willing to try, Oriana.” He sucked on her bottom lip, then moved down to kiss the slender length of her throat. “Not here, but when this is done, we’ll go out to dinner and act like a regular couple. If you can forget what you saw and what I said—”

  “No. I won’t forget and I won’t pretend.” Oriana retreated a step and put a finger on his lips. “I already told you I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  He felt like she’d just thrown ice water in his face. She wouldn’t even give him a chance. Not that he blamed her. What she’d seen him and Sloan do would traumatize most women.

  Her fingers stroked along his cheek, then delved into his hair. She rose up on her tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss. “You said we should take this one step at a time. How about we do that?”

  “Yeah.” Drawing her into a firm embrace, he pressed his lips to her brow before backing. “Let’s do that.”

  * * * *

  Black leather boots, a book bag, and a white jacket were strewn across the bathroom floor. Sloan followed Perron, confused as hell when he saw who was inside. He hadn’t expected to see her again. Wasn’t sure he wanted to.

  Oriana Delgado sat on the wide, gray laminate counter, bare feet on the edge of the white sink, forehead resting on the mirror. The reflection showed him her face was blotchy, like she’d been crying. Sloan didn’t feel an ounce of pity for her. What could this stuck-up brat possibly have to cry about?

  “Oriana,” Perron said. “They’re here.”

  Her eyes pressed shut, she gave a jerky nod, then hopped off the counter. Looking unsteady on her feet, she turned to face them. “I—”

  Perron stopped her mid-turn and ran his hands down her back. His fingers brushed the exposed flesh of her ass where the bottom of her dress had twisted to one side. Sloan’s mouth went dry. That heart-shaped butt was just made to fit in his palms, made for him to squeeze while he . . . fuck! Even outside, all covered up, she’d tempted him. Now, with her all rumpled and temptingly vulnerable, it was impossible to feign disinterest.

  She squirmed as Perron’s hand covered her ass. “Max—”

  One firm arm around her shoulders held her still as Perron tugged down the hem of her dress. “There you go, love. Not tryin’ to take advantage—you were giving the boys a show.”

  Yeah, she was. Thanks for ruining it, buddy.

  “Oh, god.” Oriana hid her face under Perron’s arm, whispering. “This isn’t embarrassing enough?”

  “It’s all right, darlin’.” The southern drawl Perron usually hid in order to fit in crept into his tone as it deepened with concern. He kissed the top of her head and murmured into her hair. “Would you like for me to ask them?”

  Whiskey-colored eyes flicked from one man to the next, paused on Sloan, and closed before she pressed her face to Perron’s chest and mumbled. “No, I will. I’m just . . .”

  Sloan grinned. Surrounded?

  Mason moved into the room, and the door drifted shut behind him. “Is this about Stanton? Are you ready to leave him?”

  “I can’t leave him.” Her lips parted in a wide O before she snapped them shut.

  “Oh, please—” Sloan scowled when Perron gave him a dirty look. Did the man seriously think he’d waste his time listening to her drama?

  Before Sloan could tell them all to enjoy the evening and take off, Mason crossed the room to stand over the girl in full white-knight mode.

  “What does that bastard have on you?”

  “N-nothing—” Oriana seemed to be trying to burrow under Perron’s jersey. Her words were muffled against his chest. “Forget it. Max, please bring me h . . .” She shook her head. “Somewhere.”

  “Are you sure?” Perron frowned, massaging her shoulders when she didn’t answer. “You can trust the
m; I wouldn’t have suggested this otherwise. Just spit it out.”

  She gave him a you-can’t-be-serious look, angled away from him, and crossed her arms over her chest, causing her breasts to strain against the tight black laces of her corset. Sloan struggled with the overwhelming urge to wrench her out of Perron’s arms and bury his face in her cleavage.

  Which would likely get him slapped. Unless he showed her what a decent guy he could be. His pulse thrummed low in his gut, then descended a little more. Yeah, time to play nice.

  “Relax, Perron.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and took a step back. “She’ll talk when she’s ready.”

  Her grateful smile told him he was headed in the right direction.

  “I can do this.” She bent to pick up her jacket and sucked in a shallow breath. Her words sounded strangled, like she couldn’t breathe right. “Just give me a minute.”

  She straightened and her face went white. One hand hovered over her chest.

  “Fine.” Perron took the jacket from her and laid it on the counter by the sink. “But in the meantime, how ‘bout you get out of that dress.”

  Fuck! Much as he’d love to see her strip, he couldn’t see the girl doing that with them all watching. Probably wouldn’t take much for Perron to get her naked, but if he planned to seduce her, why drag the rest of them along? What the hell was the man up to?

  “Out of this . . .” She gulped in air like she was standing on the edge of a pool, about to take a plunge into the deep end. Then she gave each of Sloan’s men a long look—while avoiding looking at him at all—and let out a noisy breath. “Yeah, I guess that’s a good place to start.” She put her fingernails between her lips and backed toward the stalls. “I’ll explain when I . . .” She smacked the stall door and stumbled inside. “Please don’t leave.”

  The door clicked shut.

  “What’s going on, Perron?” T.J.’s pale eyes flashed with rage. He tried to step between Sloan and Perron. “You better start talking or—”

  Sloan sidestepped and did his best to keep the big man out of arm’s reach of Perron’s throat. “Calm down. He’ll tell us.”

  “Not for me to tell.” Perron leaned his elbows on the counter behind him. At a loud thump from the stalls, he cleared his throat. “Need some help, darlin’?”

  “Umm . . .” The girl sounded like someone was choking the life out of her. She groaned and there was another thump. “Maybe someone could give me something to change into—”

  Vanek skirted around them. “Come to the locker room with me. I’m sure I’ve got something. You’d float in the other guys clothes, but I’m not that much bigger than you.”

  Sloan grabbed Vanek by the back of his shirt when he reached for the door. “Go get the clothes. She’ll change in here.” Sloan’s eyes narrowed when the boy opened his mouth to interrupt. “Alone.”

  “No!”

  Every man in the room went still at Oriana’s shout. Something crashed into the wall hard enough to make the stalls shake. A sob got Sloan moving. Perron reached the stall a step ahead of him.

  “Oriana?” The muscles in Perron’s forearm flexed as he took hold of the top of the door, looking ready to tear it right off the hinges.

  “I’m okay . . . I’m just . . .” Oriana sniffed, then sighed. “I’m stuck.”

  “Do you want me to come in there and help you?”

  “Would you?”

  A devilish smile slanted Perron’s lips. “Gladly.”

  Sloan mentally counted all the reasons he shouldn’t knock his friend’s perfect teeth down his throat. He got stuck on one . . . when Mason spoke up.

  “I’ve got a better idea.” Mason folded his arms over his chest and gave Perron the look he usually saved for when playtime was about to get real serious. Whips and chains serious.

  Now you’re in for it. Sloan leaned on the wall by the stall and smirked when Perron nervously glanced his way.

  When Mason cleared his throat, Perron jumped. “What?”

  “You obviously know something. We’ve all been asked to stay, and neither of you are telling us anything.” Mason waited for Perron’s nod, then continued. “If you want to keep this between you, fine. But if we’re being included, for whatever reason, I want to know why. Now.”

  The locked clicked. The door opened a crack. Oriana peeked out at them and spoke so quietly Sloan had to hold his breath to hear her. “Don’t blame Max; he’s doing this for me. I need something I can use against my father. He threatened to cut me off if I break up with Paul. Changing his mind shouldn’t take much—he won’t risk me going as far as my sister did—”

  “What does Silver have to do with this?” Sloan’s sharp tone had all the men staring at him, but he didn’t give a damn. He’d known Silver for all of a month—couple of years after Delgado acquired the team. She had to be the most self-centered, high-maintenance woman he’d ever met. Not his type at all, and she hadn’t taken it well when he’d say so.

  Tough. He didn’t perform on demand.

  Oriana gave Perron a helpless look. Perron held up a hand and shook his head, probably having guessed where Sloan’s thoughts had gone. “No one has to do anything. She’s just gonna walk out of here with all of us; make it look like something was going on by getting out of her clothes—”

  “I’m liking this idea so far.” Vanek sidled between Sloan and Mason and pulled off his jersey. He bunched it up to toss it to Oriana. “Even if this don’t work, imagine what the guys will say—”

  “You’re not gonna look like some big stud if that’s what you’re thinking, Vanek.” Sloan snatched the jersey, feeling Oriana’s eyes on him as he paced to the sink. He fisted the jersey in his hand and rested his knuckles on the edge of the sink. “As a matter of fact, she’s just going to use us to get what she wants—should be something in this for us, but there won’t be.”

  The stall door opened all the way. He watched Oriana’s reflection as she slipped out and moved to stand next to Perron.

  “What do you think should be in it for you, Mr. Callahan?”

  Sloan shrugged. “At least a little show . . .” Her bottom lip quivered, and he groaned. “Shit. I’m kidding. Don’t start blubbering.” He tossed the jersey to Perron. “Help her get changed; I wanna get this over with.”

  Expecting Perron to take her into the stall, Sloan hefted himself up on the counter to sit and wait. Oriana crossed the room and bent down to pick up one of her boots.

  He had a second to wonder why before she flung it at his head. The sharp heel nicked the arm he shielded himself with, then clattered on the floor.

  “What the hell!”

  She came at him so fast he thought she’d claw at him like an angry cat. She stopped a foot away and dug those very sharp-looking nails into her palms. Fists pressed to her sides, she stared at him, opening her mouth twice before she finally spoke.

  “I don’t use people and I don’t ‘blubber.’ I would really appreciate your help—I know I’m not much to look at, but still . . .” She blinked fast and held her hand up when he pushed off the counter and stepped forward. “Please don’t make fun of me anymore. I don’t like it.”

  Make fun of her? What the . . . “I wasn’t—”

  “Shut up.” Perron glared at Sloan like he’d just called the girl some nasty name and rubbed Oriana’s arms. “You are beautiful. But you don’t have to—”

  “Please get it off me.” Oriana turned her head away from the men. Perron slung the jersey over his shoulder and went to work on the knotted ribbon of her corset.

  Sloan studied her stiff posture and frowned. “Perron—”

  “Not now, Callahan.” Perron murmured something to Oriana, and she nodded.

  The corset opened wide, revealing soft round breasts covered by sheer black lace, quivering with the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Lovely—but the girl looked ready to hyperventilate.

  Taking hold of the bottom of her dress, Perron gave Oriana a bracing smile. “Arms up.”

&
nbsp; Oriana put her arms up. Her face was sickly white.

  Sloan couldn’t take it any longer. “Perron, stop. She can’t—”

  “Yes, I can.” Oriana took a deep breath. “Do it, Max.”

  Perron started lifting the dress but paused when she winced. He knelt and looked at something on her thigh. “Ouch. Why didn’t you tell me you got hurt?”

  “It’s just a little burn.”

  “It’s pretty red.” Perron didn’t sound so sure of himself anymore. He stood and took her hand. “Come on, we’ll go to my place. I’ll take care of this, and then—”

  “I want it off!” She twisted her hand free when Perron shook his head and grabbed the hem of the dress like she wanted to tear it from her body. “I wore this for him and I hate it! Like my father said, like Callahan implied . . .” She hissed in air through her teeth. “I look cheap.”

  Jesus, her father and Paul had done a number on her. Never mind the dress, the girl didn’t look comfortable in her own skin. And he hadn’t helped matters with his crude comments. The reddened flesh made him think of the marks he’d leave if he got his hands on her, but concern overrode his baser impulses.

  He held out his hand. “Oriana—”

  “I’m fine, Mr. Callahan.” A few deep inhales, and she actually managed a smile. “Just stand back and enjoy the show.”

  “We certainly will.” Mason used the husky tone all the ladies seemed to like, yet his eyes trailed over Oriana in a way most women found offensive. Strange contradiction, ‘specially since this woman didn’t seem the least bit offended.

  She flushed and ducked her head. “Maybe you can help me, since Max won’t.”

  Perron grabbed her by the hips before she could go to Mason. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t.”

  “Stop stalling and do it then.”

  Aren’t we bossy? Sloan shook his head when Perron simply grinned and obediently stepped up to her. Peeling the dress up over her head, he gave them all an unobstructed view of her beautiful body. Her black lace bra and panties were so sheer he could see her puckered nipples and waxed pussy. His gaze trailed over the exposed flesh, butter smooth, naturally tanned—he wondered whether she’d mark easily. The head of his dick scraped against the inside of his zipper. Lousy time to go commando. He shoved his hands in his pockets and did his best to unobtrusively shift his dick away from the metal teeth. Damn, damn, damn.