Donovan (Face-Off Series Book 3)

by Jillian Quinn

  My phone keeps ringing, annoying the shit out of me. We need to stop. I need a break to check in on my sister. So, I withdraw my fingers from Sydney and bring them up to my mouth to get a taste.

  Sydney’s eyes open as wide as her mouth does. She’s panting and out of breath. “Wh—what are you doing?”

  “I have to get going.” I lie, because I need to call my sister back, and I don’t need an audience when I do it. “I have a training session in the morning at Tyler’s house. Need to get my rest.”

  I laugh on the inside, all while keeping a straight face. If Sydney wants to play games with me, I’ll show her how much it sucks to have someone fuck with your orgasms. “We should pick up where we left off another night. Maybe on Thursday.”

  She’s still staring at me in shock, unsure of what to say next. This must be a first for her. Two can play this game. Seeing the Queen knocked down a peg, vulnerable and irritated, gives me more satisfaction than if she were to whip out my cock and suck it. As much as I’d love to have those full lips wrapped around me right now, I’d rather go home and jerk off again than let her win.

  Leaving Sydney with a taste of her own medicine makes my sad, lonely night with my hand worth it. I still have thoughts of her tight, wet pussy to get me through until I can have the real thing. At least now, I know how she feels and tastes instead of imagining it. Eventually, one of us has to give in, and since she started it first, I will wait her out. Or at least I will try.

  As soon as I get in my car, I remove my cell phone from my pocket. I already have four text messages in addition to Jenny’s voicemail. Holding my breath, I open the messages, all of which read Call me back or It’s important.

  Everything is important when it comes to Jenny. She’s my older sister, the woman who raised me, and the closest I have to a decent female role model in my life. My mother passed away when I was nine, leaving me with a drunken asshole of a father and Jenny. She had just started high school when a fatal car crash had killed my mother.

  After all these years, I still have trouble remembering my mom. It’s been so long since the last time I saw her face or heard her voice that the only reminder I have of her anymore are pictures. And they’re all filled with lies. In some ways, my mother was the lucky one. She got away from my dad, escaped from all the pain and abuse. My father never survived the tragedy, blamed us for everything that had happened. As if my sister and I had anything to do with our mother’s death. We were strangers in our own house, treated as if we didn’t belong.

  Dear old dad was the Sheriff in the small town where I grew up. He could get away with murder. Instead, he abused his seat of power and took every bit of his rage out on his family. I was surprised how shaken up he was about my mother, especially since he was almost as bad to her as he was to my sister and me.

  Called to the scene of the accident, my father had to watch as the firefighters pulled my mother from what was left of her car. She was already gone at that point. And he was never the same man. I can’t say I blame him for how he acted afterward. I doubt I would have survived something so tragic.

  But I do blame him for all the beatings and the torment. I blame him for all the darkness that had come into our lives. Jenny always reminds me that our mother was like a ray of sunshine. She was the light to my father’s darkness. If only someone would shine a light on mine.

  With shaky hands, I hit Jenny’s number on my screen and hold the phone up to my ear. The phone rings a few times before she finally picks up.

  “Hey, baby bro,” she says in a singsong tone. “Where have you been? Did you get my messages?”

  “Jenny, you only called ten minutes ago.” Annoyed with her attitude, I suck in a deep breath and blow it out. “I have a life. I was in the middle of something when you called.”

  “You know I worry about you, Carter.” She worries way too much about me. Ever since our mother died, she watches over me, as if she’s my guardian angel. “Is everything okay? How’s hockey going for you?”

  “Horrible,” I confess, still ashamed by my performance at practice today. “My game is off, and I have no idea why I’m so…unfocused. I don’t know how to fix it. If I could just pinpoint where I went wrong, start all over, maybe I could figure things out. Tyler’s been helping me, but nothing has worked for me.”

  “Well, snap out of it and get your focus back.” Her tone is so intense and severe. When Jenny is in a room, her presence demands attention. She can command mine without even being nearby. “I’m coming to see you. I can help you.”

  She’s always been so strong, and I admire that about her. Jenny is the reason I go after strong women like Sydney. I grew up with Jenny bossing me around, reminding me to get to practice on time and what foods to eat to stay in shape. If anyone has been my coach, it’s Jenny. It’s also the reason I don’t mind Sydney and her game.

  I laugh a little too loud, and that earns me a snide remark. “Hey, don’t make me come down there and kick your ass, baby bro.”

  I smile at her words. “I’m not a baby, and I’d like to see you try.”

  “Yeah,” she says, playful, “but I would kill myself trying. I’m serious about coming down to see you. It’s been three months, if not longer, since the last time we saw each other.”

  “Jenny, I have to figure this out on my own. You can’t hold my hand through life.”

  “Yes, I can, and I will.” Her irritation is evident in her tone. “I have been here through all the good times and the bad, Carter. I don’t care if I have to get into a pair of skates and stand next to the net with you, but I am going to get you back to normal. Whatever is bothering you, we will figure it out together.”

  “Jen, c’mon, can you leave it alone? I just need time to work on things.”

  “No, because if you fail, so do I. And I will not let that happen. Do you understand me?” In some ways, Jenny is right. She’s the reason I found hockey, the light to my darkness back when I needed something to fill the void. Jenny was my cheerleader and has always been my biggest fan. If I needed a ride to practice, she was there to drive me. When I outgrew my skates, Jenny worked extra shifts at the diner to get me new ones.

  I sigh at her comment. Because I know she’s right, and I hate to admit it. “Fine. When are you coming?”

  She squeals with delight. “Let me check with Steve, but I should be able to come down in the next month or so. With Kyle in daycare, I need to figure out an exact date, but I will let you know as soon as Steve gets home from work. Sound good?”

  “Yes, that works for me.” I grin like an idiot at the thought of my sister coming to visit. My God, I missed her and knowing she will be here soon, gives me hope. “Are you coming with Kyle and Steve?”

  “I’m not sure yet. Let me see what Steve wants to do. No matter what, you will get me at a bare minimum.”

  “Okay. Just text me the dates later.” I turn the key in the ignition, and the Hummer comes to life. Sydney might get the wrong idea if she looks out into the parking lot of her apartment complex and finds me parked here like some stalker. Especially after I’d told Sydney I had things to do. That part was not a lie, but I did want to mess with her head and her body, the same way she has mine.

  “Yay!” She yells into my ear, forcing me to hold the phone away from my ear. “Talk soon. Love you, baby bro.”

  “Love you, too, big sis.”

  I smile as I hang up the phone. Maybe Jenny can help me sort out my shit and get me back on track. I keep my fingers crossed that will happen because my team needs her. They just don’t know it yet.

  Chapter 6

  Sydney

  If the screen could talk back, what would it say?

  Random shit like that pops into my head as I stare at my computer monitor for the thousandth time today. I am one crazy ass bitch. Maybe I should fuck Carter and get it out of my system.

  Distracted by Carter and his rock hard body and sexy smirk, I cannot stop thinking about how he fingered my pussy, and then bailed on m

e as if that wasn’t a shitty thing to do. I guess I deserved it. After all, I did start this game.

  As a romance author, I spend a lot of my time locked away in my writing cave for hours or days on end. Today is no different. With my current deadlines, I’m cranking out between five to ten thousand words per day, typing faster than I had ever imagined. Or at least I was until I met Carter. He screwed up everything, messed with my Zen. I need it back.

  How did I let him get under my skin?

  One thing I’ve always had with men are boundaries. Rules and limits are what keep them in check. Otherwise, they’ll walk all over you, or at least that’s my experience with men.

  Staring at the document on my screen, my mind drifts between Carter and my story. Get the fuck out of my head! Toned arms, thick calves, chiseled abs, an ass you can bounce quarters off, and that smile…Fuck, fuck, fuckety fuck. I cannot have that sexy caveman invade my writing zone—not unless he wants to find himself in one of my books. At the rate we’re going, that is an excellent possibility. Horny romance author strings along hot as puck hockey player, challenging him to a game. A very kinky sex game.

  That could work.

  I pick up the notepad and pen in front of me, biting down on the cap, as I consider this idea for a book. But how would it work? Could I even sell a book like this? I could pitch it to my editor and see if he thinks I’m crazy. He usually does, but that doesn’t stop him from going along with my ideas. Because my brand of crazy sells.

  Carter has me under a spell. Stringing him along until I make a decision should be easy. But I already made a choice. I want him so bad I can feel him deep down in my bones, aching to be with him. Too bad I have rules, all of which are in place for a reason. By now, he either thinks I have lost my mind or understands that I am in control of this situation. Control is essential for me.

  My cell phone rings, vibrating across my desk and toward me. I’m thrilled to have a distraction but also afraid that Carter is on the other end of the call. Or what if it’s my editor? With my writing going nowhere and Carter on the brain, I could be at this plotting shit all day. I hate deadlines, and the outlines my editor insists I write for my books.

  That only leads to more half-assed ideas, like the one I’m mulling over for Carter, and a lot of wasted time on my part. And time equals money in this business. If I can’t crank out the books on a decent schedule, the money will disappear along with my sales.

  Relief washes over me when I check my Caller ID and see it’s my bestie and co-blogger, Kennedy. I have missed her so damn much lately. My face lights up, a smile reaching up to my eyes and hurting my jaw it’s so wide.

  Before she met hotshot Tyler Kane we were an unstoppable duo. Kennedy was the Long Sticks to my Hard Shots in our crazy sports themed sex blog called Long Sticks and Hard Shots. She’s a sports reporter, always adding the sports puns and humor to my sexy, raunchy articles. Now, I hardly ever see her.

  We almost never get together to plot out our week of blog posts or new ideas for our followers. Kennedy had moved into Tyler’s mansion with him in New Jersey, just on the other side of the bridge, right after things had gotten serious. Their relationship progressed at an insane rate.

  I pick up the phone and hold it up to my ear. “Hey, K. Perfect timing.”

  “Oh, yeah? Let me guess. You’re in the middle of writing a scene, and you’re stuck again?” I can hear the condescension in her tone.

  She knows me so well it brings a smile to my face. I love that we have this sister thing between us, which makes me miss her even more now that Tyler has stolen her away from me. “How did you guess?” I deadpan.

  “I have best friend super powers,” she jokes, laughing to herself. “What are you having trouble with this time? Do you need another word for cock? You know Tyler still hasn’t let me live that one down. I doubt he ever will.”

  Because of me, Kennedy had asked Tyler over the phone, before they had ever met, for another word for cock. Because he’s a gentleman, he gave her a few words before she had the chance to cut him off. She thought he was some random pervert. That was their first interaction.

  He said he knew she was a keeper after that night. Or at least that’s what he said a while after they started dating. The two of them are weird and quirky, and that sort of thing works for them. Kind of like Carter and me.

  I envy the relationship Kennedy has built with Tyler. It all happened so fast. What had started out as just hot sex had turned into a lot more than they had expected. Tyler was, I guess you could say, broken before my Kennedy got a hold of him. She has a way of fixing people who need help. Kennedy sure as shit did it with me back in high school. To this day, she still thinks I saved her, but I was the one who needed saving.

  “No, I think I have enough words for cock saved in my arsenal at this point. It’s Carter.” I suck in a deep breath and let it out, gazing out the window of my office. “He infuriates me.”

  All day I zoned out, contemplating my relationship with Carter. Should I give in?

  “I don’t know what to do about Carter,” I confess.

  “What’s there to think about?” She says this as if dating a professional hockey player is the easiest choice for me. I have enough attention directed at me because of my romance novels. “He’s hot, probably amazing in bed, and you like him. I don’t see the problem, Syd. This should be a no-brainer for you.”

  She’s right. Kennedy is always right when it comes to dating and my love life. Too bad I never listen to anyone. I am a stubborn ass and even more so when it comes to men. Despite what people may think based on my personal appearance, I do not have my shit together. And I certainly do not have it all figured out when it comes to the opposite sex.

  For as many men fall at my feet, gushing over me, the other half use me for sex or a date for a charity event. That’s the part most people don’t see—Kennedy included. She has me placed so high up on a pedestal that even my best friend thinks of me as above other women. Except I have no fucking clue what I am doing. I just make shit up as I go along. And playing games, like the one I have going with Carter, is the only way I know how to safeguard my heart.

  That’s my superpower. As long as I can keep my defenses up, no one can get through the impenetrable wall I have built around myself. It works for me, and while not everyone will understand, it’s the only thing I have ever known.

  “I like him.” I sigh because I hate to admit it aloud. “Carter is hot and built and everything I would usually go for, but I’m also afraid he just wants sex. He’ll bail as soon as I give in.”

  “He definitely wants sex.” I cringe at her words. “Last night, he stopped by the house after your date and complained to Tyler and me for about an hour.” She chuckles, apparently finding this amusing. I wish I did. “What did you do to him? He was really pissed.”

  Last night, we actually watched TV and didn’t touch each other once. It was weird, but I still had a good time. Carter refused to open up to me again, so I bought a movie on cable, and we watched it in almost silence. After that stunt he pulled the other night, he deserved the cold shoulder. I finally gave into him, allowed him to kiss and touch me, and then he wouldn’t even let me come. I was not about to set myself up for that failure again.

  “See, I knew that was all he was looking for out of me,” I tell Kennedy, annoyed. “You know I am getting so sick and tired of all the expectations. Just because I write romance novels for a living doesn’t mean I walk around without panties and flash my pussy to the first guy who glances in my direction.”

  Kennedy laughs in my ear before composing herself. “I think you’re overacting, Syd. Yes, he wants sex. He’s a man. They’re pretty much hardwired to think that way. But I also believe he likes you. In the time I have known Tyler, I have yet to hear Carter bitch about a woman he was dating. In fact, I have never heard him mention a single girl until you. That tells me you are getting under his skin. I think he’ll play along with you, but at some point, you will need to bend a little.”

  “I told him I would make it worth the wait.” My tone is so defensive I almost don’t recognize my voice. Then, I feel sorry for taking out my frustration on Kennedy. “He needs to wait and see what I have in store for him. It will be worth every second. I just…” I have no idea what else there is to say about my predicament with Carter.

  Why do I feel the need to justify why I am doing this? Is it not obvious to my best friend, the one person in this world who really understands me?

  “Oh, I don’t doubt that.” Kennedy snorts as she laughs. “You’ll work your Sydney Voodoo and have Carter begging for more by the time you’re through with him.”

  I roll my eyes as I kick my feet up on the desk and lean back in my chair. “While that may be true, I’m not so sure if Carter will play the game with me much longer. He was acting weird last night. It could be fun, maybe even heighten our sexual experience, if he follows my lead. But I think he’s losing interest.”

  “Based on the part of the conversation I heard between Tyler and Carter, I would say you are wrong. As long as you’re clear about what you expect of him and how this will go down, he’ll hang in there for the long haul. Just bend some. Otherwise, you might break him. Tyler said he’s never seen Carter this interested in a girl he just met. I would say that’s a good sign for you.”

  “I miss you, K,” I breathe into the phone. “We need to hang out soon. Tyler stole you away, and I want you back, even if it’s only for a day. We need to work out an agreement. You’re stuck in the middle, the two of us playing tug-a-war with you.”

  “He didn’t steal me.” Her voice is soft, calm.

  “Yes, he did,” I spit back. “Tyler is the ultimate cunt blocker. I don’t like how much of your time he snatches from you. We have things we could be doing. Like planning our blog posts for the next month. That time would be better spent with me, of course.”

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