Line Brawl: The Dartmouth Cobras #8

by Bianca Sommerland

  Which is when the crowd really went wild. Justina grinned, waving as she headed off with the other girls while the announcer began to introduce the players.

  The second she had her skates off, Sahara grabbed her hand, laughing as she dragged Justina into the hall. “Finish changing later! I’m sneaking you into the Wives’ Room to watch the game.”

  “No, you most definitely are not.” Justina laughed and tugged free of Sahara. “I’ve watched Hockey Wives. They probably don’t like you being in there.”

  “Ha!” Sahara looped her arm around the back of Justina’s neck. “I’ll have you know they love me. And they’ll all want to gush over your performance.”

  “You mean me falling on my butt?”

  “It’s so cute that you call it that. Come on, let me corrupt you a little.” Sahara batted her long, black eyelashes and stuck out her bottom lip. “Akira’s gonna be busy for a bit, giving Carrie shit about giggling to mess you up. And Carrie will deny it, of course, but everyone knows she’s just jealous because you’re awesome!”

  Sahara was sweet to say that, but Justina knew Carrie—and at least half of the Ice Girls—didn’t think she belonged on the team. Thankfully, as much as it might hurt, she wouldn’t let them ruin what she’d worked so hard for.

  “Sahara, I appreciate this, really, but I’m not comfortable going to the Wives’ Room.”

  “Because it’s against the rules?”

  Well…yes. Obviously.

  Sahara sighed and stopped trying to prod Justina down the hall. “Fine, but, honey, you’ve got to learn to live a little. Do something unexpected. I never see you having any fun.”

  “I have fun on the ice.” Justina fiddled with her skirt when Sahara arched a brow at her. Maybe the other girl was right. Maybe she should make an effort to be a little spontaneous. She admired Sahara. And Akira and Jami.

  They wouldn’t want her tagging along if she was completely boring.

  She took a deep breath. “I’ll go with you to the club this weekend.”

  Big blue eyes wide, Sahara stared at her. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes.” And crazy too, apparently. Was she really going to do this?

  Squealing and jumping up and down, Sahara caught her hands. “This is awesome! You’re going to enjoy it, Justina, I swear. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I’ll talk to my master and make sure I can spend most of the night with you. And Jami and Akira will be there, so you’ll never be alone.”

  “That’s good, because if you leave me alone I’ll probably end up chained to a wall somewhere. Getting…” She shook her head and laughed. “Robo-spanked.”

  With a snort, Sahara shook her head, tugging Justina in the other direction down the hall. “Not gonna happen. If you see something you want to try, Dominik will supervise. Have you met him?”

  “Only in passing.”

  “I’ll introduce you. Fuck, I love that man. He’s a DM—a dungeon monitor—at the club. He’s got a lot of experience, so he’ll probably want to talk to you. Make sure you’re there of your own free will.”

  Was it weird that she was just as excited as she was terrified? This all sounded so different than anything she’d ever experienced. Even if it totally wasn’t her thing, she could at least say she’d given it a chance.

  But she did have one last thing she had to ask before committing. “Sahara, there aren’t actual cages in this dungeon, are there?”

  The stupid game was finally over. Sam groaned as she pushed out of the uncomfortable chair in the press box where Sloan had been nice enough to let her chill while he was behind the bench and Max was on the ice. She’d tried to make small talk with Oriana’s sister, Silver, and her brother, Ford, but all either of them wanted to know about was the baby.

  Who she hadn’t seen much of over the past few days.

  Giving them both brief answers, she’d snuck over to the other end of the room the second they were distracted by the play, and promptly fell asleep. Jami came at halftime—or whatever the break from the game was called—and they went and grabbed a snack.

  Jami, at least, didn’t ask about the kid. She spent as much time as she could with him. And Sam had a feeling Luke had explained things to her.

  Like how Sam was determined to prove she was just as selfish as everyone thought she was.

  No one fucking thinks that, Sam.

  Right. More like no one wanted to say it to her face.

  The worst thing was life was going pretty good. Her room had been temporarily moved to the basement to give her some space until she found a place. Sloan was helping her with that, but kept reminding her she didn’t have to rush. Her body was still achy, but not horribly so. She’d gotten plenty of sleep—never seemed like enough, but still—and she’d even gone to visit Luke a couple of times.

  He was nice. Jami and Sebastian were nice.

  They’d probably have been just as nice if she had some terminal illness.

  She was grateful that people were putting up with her after everything she’d done though, so she accepted the nice. The careful smiles. The gentle encouragement every time she talked about plans for the future. She still wanted to go back to school. She wasn’t sure about working with animals anymore because when Luke had tried to be sweet and show her all the courses she’d have to take…

  Hell, she wasn’t that smart. No way would she pass all those courses.

  “You taking the loss hard, or are you just bored?” Sloan gave her a crooked grin as she sat up. “Ready to go?”

  “Yeah…” She frowned, looking past him. “Where’s Max?”

  “He went to have a beer with a few of the guys. Oriana and James are sleeping, and I’ll be there to get up with him if she’s tired. Max probably won’t stay out late, but I want to make sure he’ll be good on the road. He’s playing distracted.”

  Sam nodded slowly. “He’s a new dad. That’s gotta be expected?”

  “Maybe so, but the more confident he is that Oriana can manage if he’s not there every second, the easier it will be for him to get his head back in the game. We need him in top form out there and…” Sloan chuckled as she stifled a yawn. “You really don’t care, do you?”

  “It’s not that. I’m just sleepy all the time, and I’m tired of it.”

  “You’re still recovering. We’ll get you home and right into bed.”

  Damn, a man like him, talking about getting her in bed, would have made her all kinds of hot and bothered before she’d gotten knocked up. Hell, even while she was pregnant she’d gotten turned on by all the sexy men on this damn team.

  Sebastian might be fucking her brother, but when she’d been staying with them, she’d spent a good amount of time watching the man walk away. He had a damn fine ass.

  Now though, her brain was definitely noticing all the sexy, but her body was like…meh.

  Recovery sucked. She was never having another kid.

  Stuffing her hands into the sleeves of the sweater she’d borrowed from Sloan—because none of her clothes fit right, the excuse she was sticking with no matter what—Sam followed him out of the press box. He seemed to know all the halls to take to avoid staff and press and people in general, which was awesome.

  He was awesome. Sure, she’d given him a baby, but he knew she wouldn’t take his son away from him, so he didn’t have to keep checking up on her. He definitely didn’t have to pour her coffee in the morning, or add her favorite stuff to the grocery list—after making sure he knew what she liked—or any of the other little things he was constantly doing.

  No man in her life had ever treated her this good. She almost wished she could continue living with him.

  But just almost. The cute little domestic thing he had going on with Max and Oriana really wasn’t her style.

  They were back at his place within twenty minutes, slipping in quietly so they wouldn’t wake Oriana or the baby. After taking off his shoes, he headed straight to the kitchen and put on the kettle. She carefully placed
her own shoes beside his and padded after him, clasping her hands in front of her so she wasn’t tempted to touch anything.

  He had a beautiful house. The kind of house you’d find in a magazine with the perfect little family standing in front of it. Nice, sturdy wood furniture, soft, natural colors everywhere, everything gleaming and smelling slightly of lemon cleaner.

  She hadn’t been upstairs much, but she knew Sloan shared a huge bed with Max and Oriana. Their arrangement confused her a little, but she didn’t judge. Oriana was pretty and sweet and ideal wife material.

  And Max was…damn, just his voice got her squirming when he spoke to her in that deep, southern drawl. He was nicely built, not like those greasy, scary bulging weight lifters, but with just enough muscles in all the right places. His smile was panty-melting and when he wasn’t all scruffy—playoff beards were so stupid!—he was easily one of the best looking guys on the team.

  Not as hot as Sloan, but she’d always been into tall, dark, and dangerous. Sloan had the look, but he wasn’t an asshole like all the guys she’d fooled around with in the past. She couldn’t blame Max for wanting a piece of the man. Hell, if she was a boy, she’d still want him.

  “Do you want a tea?” Sloan glanced over his shoulder at her, holding up a plain, black mug. “Or you ready for bed?”

  Dude, you’ve really got to stop bringing up my bed. Her cheeks heated a little, and she inhaled quickly before she started blushing and acting all giddy. “I’m not really tired anymore. The game was so bad, I got bored, but I was too nice to say so.”

  He snorted as he fixed them both some tea. “Cheeky brat. Do you want to watch a movie?”

  “I’d love to!” She wouldn’t lie. Not to herself anyway. Any excuse to spend time with him made her very happy.

  Sloan’s brow furrowed as he turned to face her, holding out the tea he’d fixed exactly the way she liked. With four teaspoons of sugar and just a splash of milk. He spoke before she could thank him. “I figured spending time with your brother would be enough, but you should be hanging out with girls your own age. Why don’t you do something with Jami tomorrow? Go to the mall with her and her friends.”

  I’m not allowed to go to the mall anymore. She tongued her bottom lip and shrugged. “Maybe. The mall really isn’t my thing, but I’ll see if they wanna chill.”

  “Good.” He gestured toward the living room. “For now, what would you like to watch?”

  “Umm…” She sat on the cushy, brown leather sofa next to him and placed her mug on the rustic coffee table. As he flicked on the TV and began to scroll through new releases, she thought of a movie she’d wanted to see for a while.

  Probably not his thing though.

  “And you will tell me what that thought was, sweetie.” Sloan placed the remote on the table and leaned back, his arm rested on the sofa behind her head. “Picking a movie shouldn’t be this stressful.”

  “Picking one you’ll like is.”

  His lips curved slightly into the little smirk that always gave her the strangest urge to lick him. “I didn’t ask you what I want to watch. You clearly have something in mind?”

  Many things. Many bad, bad things.

  Telling him about the movie was probably the smartest thing she could do. Then she could stare at the TV, instead of at him. “Yeah…The Boy Next Door looks good.”

  Without another word, he did a search for the movie and rented it.

  For the first ten minutes of the movie, she sat stiff beside him, finishing off her tea and trying to get into the movie.

  He sighed and pulled her back once she set down her mug. “Relax. Are you enjoying it so far?”

  She bit back a smile as she rested her head on his shoulder, and he didn’t protest or act at all uncomfortable. “Yes. This is nice.”

  “Good.”

  Having him so close, letting her touch him, was way more than ‘nice’. She considered all that she’d learned about the kind of relationship he was in. She’d read enough books to figure out he was a Dom. Which meant he could do whatever—and whoever—he wanted. He made all the rules.

  Not a game she’d ever played, but she was willing to give it a shot. The characters on screen were fucking and her body chose that moment to let her know it was still functioning in every way. She was still a little sore, but her nipples hardened and her core clenched, urging her on.

  Rising up on her knees, she leaned over Sloan, clasping her fingers behind his neck as she pressed her lips to his.

  Damn he tastes good. She let out a soft moan as his lips parted and the sweet flavor of the honey he took with his tea hit the tip of her tongue. His hands settled on her hips and she pressed against him, more than ready for him to take her to her room, or to the floor, or wherever he wanted her.

  “Jeezus H. Christ!” An angry, barely coherent voice broke through her wonderful, perfect haze of the moment. The low growl made all the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. “Damn you to hell.”

  Sloan set her aside and strode across the room as Max turned around and headed right back out the front door. “Max, it’s not—”

  She winced as Sloan caught the door a second before it could slam into his face. He stepped around it then closed it softly behind him.

  Shitshitshit! She really hadn’t meant for that to happen. Well, for the kiss, yes, she’d totally meant that. But not for Max to walk in and freak out. Maybe she’d misjudged the rules a little bit. Maybe Sloan had to clear things with Max at least?

  You’re gonna end up on the streets if you keep this up, dumbass.

  Slipping off the sofa, she headed down to her room. Figured things would go from great to fucking miserable again. She just couldn’t do anything right.

  No matter how hard she tried.

  Max was pretty sure he’d never been so pissed. He sensed Sloan behind him as he walked along the front of their house, treading over the new grass that had been coming in as the ground finally thawed. He really wanted to turn around and crack the bastard right between the eyes.

  What the hell was Sloan thinking?

  What if Oriana had come down and seen him with Sam?

  Spinning sharply, he rammed his hand into the center of Sloan’s chest, shoving him against the brick wall. “We’re a family, Sloan. A family with a child we swore we’d give a good, stable life. That little girl right there needs help. How could you—?”

  “Fuck, Max, don’t you think I know that?” Sloan dropped his head back and groaned. “She just…she caught me off guard. I was trying to figure out how to turn her down gently. If you’d come a moment later it would have been handled.”

  “Handled? You ‘handle’ subs at the club just fine. ‘No’ is actually quite effective. Did you try that?” Max fisted his hands in Sloan’s shirt as the urge to lay him out grew. “If Oriana had seen you, you’d be fucking gone. You and the girl. My wife deserves better than—”

  “Don’t fucking do that, Max. Don’t throw the fact that she’s your wife in my face.” Sloan pried Max’s hand from his shirt, his eyes pure black in the night shade. “You’re angry and I get that. But don’t destroy everything we have because of one stupid mistake. One I had no control over.”

  “You’re always in control, Sloan.”

  “I try. And I thought I could be there for her, but obviously she wants more than I can give.” Sloan sighed and wrapped his hand around the back of Max’s neck, touching their foreheads together, tightening his grip when Max tried to pull away. “She can’t have me. All I have belongs to you and our woman.”

  Max pressed his eyes shut, struggling to suppress the still boiling rage. “I still want to fucking hit you.”

  Sloan chuckled, stepping back and holding his arms wide. “Then hit me. Do your worst, Max. Hurt me if it will help.”

  Rolling his eyes, Max shook his head. “No. Not my thing, and I’m not sure it would make either of us feel better.”

  “I disagree. I would feel much better.” Sloan’s smile faded at Max’
s level look. “You’re right. I should have—fuck, I want her to be happy. To know she’s going to have a good life and never second-guess leaving her baby with us. I keep thinking… What if she’s scared and lonely and decides our son would be someone who won’t ever leave her?”

  Throat tightening, Max inclined his head. “She might could decide that, Sloan. She could change her mind a week from now, and there’s nothing we could do.”

  Bowing his shoulders, Sloan dropped his gaze and nodded slowly. “Yeah. I guess she could.”

  “She talks to you more than anyone. Does it sound like she’ll change her mind?”

  “No. She still wants a clean break. I’ve been trying to help her find a place, but I don’t like the idea of her being too far from everyone she knows. I looked for a small condo in Ramos’ neighborhood.” Sloan raked his fingers through his mussed up, black hair. “There’s no way she could afford any of those places for any length of time. I could cover her for a few months, but—”

  “She needs her independence.” Max inhaled roughly. “We’ll find her something, but she can’t stay here anymore, Sloan.”

  “I know.”

  “And you have to make it clear that whatever she thinks is between the two of you…” Max ground his teeth, finding it hard to remember Sam was a troubled young woman and not one of the many females—or males—that would throw themselves at Sloan simply because he was one hell of a catch.

  Subs have knelt in front of him, begging for his attention. How come that never bothered you?

  Damn it, he didn’t know. Maybe because at the club he knew what to expect. Same thing at games. Fans went nuts. Puck bunnies tried to cop a feel.

  But this was their home. Which made what he’d walked in on even more of a shock.

  Sloan’s hand curved around the back of his neck again. Massaging the tense muscles gently. “Hey, listen to me. I will make it clear. In the morning, we will figure out where she can stay until we find her somewhere to live long term. You, Oriana, and our son are my priority. Please don’t doubt that.”