GAME MISCONDUCT (The Dartmouth Cobras) Page 8

  Nothing could, but saying so wouldn’t be enough. Paul and her father made her doubt herself so much that her confidence was a fragile thing. She needed a break from it all. Maybe a vacation somewhere with some good memories to erase all the bad.

  That’s it! Spinning the steering wheel, he swerved off the road home.

  Oriana gasped and grabbed his knee. “Where are you going?” She sat forward and her hand moved farther up his thigh. “Max?”

  “Just a sec, sugar.” He put his hand over hers and squeezed. “Trust me.”

  Fifteen minutes later, he pulled up in front of the Halifax Public Gardens and parked the car.

  He gestured vaguely at the passenger side door. “Get out.”

  She opened the door, and her heels clicked on the pavement. Then she perched on the edge of the seat and glanced back at him. “You never used to be so bossy.”

  “I didn’t know you needed it.” He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Dominik’s number. “Go. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  One eye on Oriana, Max let Dominik know they’d taken a detour and settled in to listen to the Master’s instructions. Aw hell, should I be taking notes?

  “Max, you do know she’s submissive, right?” Dominik sounded more concerned than he ever had with the subs he’d let Callahan and Max practice with. “She’s new to this. You have to take it slow.”

  “I know that.” Max watched as she paced in front of the wrought iron gate, back and forth with leisurely steps, like she could wait all night. The odd dirty look tossed his way undermined her patient act. He took a bit longer than necessary just to see what she’d do. “But I should have done this months ago. She needs to know I’m not letting her go.”

  Mason was silent for a while. Then he answered in a cool, detached tone. “Yes. She does.”

  “Not sure how long we’ll be, but you might want to wait up.”

  “I plan to,” Dominik said, before hanging up.

  Perfect. His lips curved up as Oriana flounced up to the gate. She stopped and clasped her hands behind her, rocking on her heels as she studied the garden’s crest. Her brief show of temper might not seem like much to some, but it showed him she’d gotten comfortable enough not to hide how she really felt.

  “Wealth from the sea.” He heard her whisper as he joined her.

  He moved up to her side, sounding each step so he wouldn’t startle her, then took her hand. “You remembered.”

  “I remember everything about the day you brought me here. I still can’t believe you knew more about this place than I did—I’ve lived in Nova Scotia most of my life!” Her eyes shone as she looked up at him. “You made me feel like a tourist, but it was wonderful.”

  “Believe me, it was my pleasure. My dad used to spend days teaching me the history of the places we visited when I was a kid. Instead of bedtime stories, he’d read me travel books.” He glanced down at her hand in his. For the first time since they’d met, touching her didn’t feel like trespassing. It felt right. He stroked the soft flesh of her inner wrist and smiled when she shivered. “Most of the women I’ve dated get bored real quick when I go on about ‘points of interest,’ but you seemed genuinely interested—”

  “I was.” She turned to face him and touched his cheek with her free hand. “I am.”

  I know, darlin’. That’s why we’re here. He drew her closer to the gates. “How ‘bout another tour?”

  “The gates are locked.”

  “They’re easy enough to climb.” He paused and glanced down at her boots. Shoot. Should have thought this through a little better. “Ah, well maybe not in those.”

  She giggled, shook her head, then sat on the walkway to unzip her boots. “Problem solved.”

  “That’s my girl.” Not even a question about getting caught. Of course, she was probably feeling a little reckless tonight, but if so, he might as well enjoy it while it lasted. “Up you—”

  Scrambling up the fence, she hooked an arm around a rung and held out her hand. “Do you need help?”

  He tongued his bottom lip and let his eyes trail from her bare feet, up to her bare thighs. “God, yes.” He climbed the fence, cursing when his running shoes slipped. His whole body vibrated with a heightened awareness of her, so close, so . . . available. “But not with this.”

  On the other side of the fence, he hopped down, then caught her in his arms. Lowering her slowly to her feet, he trapped her with his hooded gaze and brushed a soft kiss over her lips.

  Her fingers dug into his forearms as she aligned her body with his. “Max . . .”

  “Not yet, love.” He frowned as she started to protest. “We need to have us a little chat first.”

  Tiny teeth dented her bottom lip. “You don’t want me?”

  Aw, Christ. That’s the last thing I want her to think. “‘Course I do.”

  Her eyes went down to his crotch. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

  His arms fell to his sides. Shit, he’d really hoped she wouldn’t notice that. Truthfully, the thought of having sex with her here hadn’t even occurred to him. But, considering the lengths she’d been willing to go to with Paul—including getting a kinky book which seemed way out there for her, no wonder any type of rejection hurt.

  Every inch of his heart and soul wanted to taste her lips, to hold her—and yet his body . . .

  I’m not the only one with needs.

  His frown deepened. “Do you really think I brought you here just to fuck you against the fence?”

  Her eyes widened, and she put her hand on the center of his chest. “No! I—”

  “Good, then come with me.” He took hold of her wrist and arched a brow when she tried to tug away. “We should talk about what happened tonight. But if you’re more interested in getting off, that’s fine.” He pointed at a patch of dry grass alongside the path. “Take off your panties and lie down. I’ll use my mouth and tongue and teeth on that sweet little pussy—make you come so hard, you’ll scream. Then I’ll bring you back to my place.”

  She stared at the grass and pressed her thighs together. Considering his offer probably aroused her even more than before. But he’d intentionally made sure his tone didn’t compel obedience. Giving her the option to refuse.

  “What do you want to talk about?”

  Curious little minx. Another thing he loved about her and the very thing he’d counted on. He shrugged and skimmed his fingers up her outer thighs. “Guess it’s not that important.”

  Little goose bumps rose up on the bare flesh under his hands. Her thighs quivered. His mouth watered. Tasting her, all hot and wet for him—hell, they could talk later.

  She grabbed his wrists and shook her head. “No. Let’s talk. We can . . . you can . . .” She blushed. “Later.”

  He swooped her up in his arms and laughed at her squeal. “And I will. But first . . .”

  Letting his words trail off, he carried her across the park until they reached the bandstand. Then he climbed the steps and set her on her feet, facing away from him. She placed her hands on the green railing. He wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder.

  The gardens, which were a riot of colorful blooms throughout late spring and summer, showed only the first signs of stirring from their winter’s rest. The merest hint of the coming beauty, but Oriana would recall the way it had looked in September when they’d been here last.

  “I thought you could use a break before we head to my place.”

  “All the guys live with you, right?” At his nod, she inhaled and gave a little shudder. “And they’re waiting.”

  “Let them wait. A few hours is nothing compared to months.” He pressed his cheek against her silken hair and closed his eyes. His tone lowered to a whisper. “Promise me you’ll never do that again.”

  “I shouldn’t have done it in the first place.”

  “Shh.” He brushed her hair aside with one hand and laid a gentle kiss on her cheek. “No regrets. Just your promise.”

  * *
* *

  Oriana’s throat felt tight. But she managed to say the words, “I promise.”

  The promise seemed to satisfy him, for he simply held her close and took in the scenery, but she didn’t understand how he could forgive her so easily. Before this night, the last call she’d taken from him had been on her birthday, which she’d spent alone because Paul had “business” to tend to.

  As soon as she’d told him she had no plans, he came and picked her up, bearing an armful of yellow tulips. Her favorite flower—Paul usually bought her roses, which should have given her a clue. But, right then, all she could think was her feelings for Max were becoming stronger and that was unacceptable.

  Even worse, she could see everything she felt reflected in his eyes. Which just wasn’t fair.

  After a long drive out to the piers, after he blurted out those three words, she decided it was time to tell him their friendship was a bad idea. She’d hoped to spare him some pain, but the way he stilled, having just said “Happy birthday” and leaning in to kiss her cheek, she might as well have stabbed him in the gut.

  On the mildest of winter nights, his passion had cooled fast as hot syrup drizzled on snow. White-knuckled fist pressed to the hood of his refurbished black pickup truck, he nodded slowly.

  “Why?”

  Oriana’s gaze had fallen on the flowers, abandoned on the passenger seat, the yellow petals, wilted from exposure to the cold, stark against the black leather. What could she say?

  Because when you flash those dimples, reality shifts. I forget that I’m in a good, solid, relationship and you . . . need things . . . things I can never give you. If only I hadn’t seen . . . if you hadn’t told me . . . This has to end before I do something crazy. Like fall for you.

  All good reasons, as far as she was concerned. He would have understood; Max was good that way. But she hadn’t bothered explaining because he’d have found a way to change her mind.

  Feeling like she’d put her heart in a vise, like each breath tightened the clamps, she’d taken out her sunglasses. Her hands had shaken as she slipped them on. Brow arched, she’d given him the icy Delgado smile. “Think about it, Max.”

  “I see.” The dimples disappeared. The muscles in his jaw ticked. “Reckon I should tell you to have a nice life. But you won’t, ‘cause he’ll make you miserable.” He ran his knuckles down her cheek. “I’ll be here when you figure that out.”

  Max made a gruff sound in his throat, dragging her from the past into the present. “Stay here with me, sugar.”

  “I’m here.” She bit her lip, then turned in his embrace to face him. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

  “All right then.” He lowered his forehead to hers. “So, tell me—are you good with what happened tonight?”

  “In the bathroom?” Her nose wrinkled when he nodded. “I guess so. It’s just . . . I’m not sure why I reacted the way I did. To Mason and . . . and Callahan. He’s one mean son-of-a-bitch.”

  “That he is,” Max said, his lips curving into a fond smile. “But he’s loyal. And you couldn’t ask for a better friend.”

  “I don’t think he wants to be friends with me,” she said dryly.

  “No, but he’s attracted to you.” His gaze burrowed deep into hers, as though he could see into her very soul. “Which surprises you.”

  “Naturally.” She twisted her lips and looked down at her bare feet. Why hadn’t she grabbed her boots? Her toes were getting cold. “What would a man like him want with a woman like me?”

  “Don’t do that, love.” Max sighed and shook his head. “You are everything a man could want. Passionate, full of life, always giving more than you take—we’ll have to work on that, you hear?”

  “Yes, sir.” She giggled at his stern look. “Are you really into all that dominant stuff?”

  “I am.”

  “Well . . . what if I’m not into being dominated?”

  He chuckled. “Let’s be honest, shall we?”

  Umm, no? She pressed her tongue between her teeth. “How about I’ll think about it?”

  “That will do.” He lips slanted into a lazy smile. “For now.”

  * * * *

  Max grinned when she spun away from him and stared out at the park. There were things she wasn’t ready to accept about herself. Which was fine. He was a very patient man.

  “So why did you bring me here?” she asked.

  “You seemed to find peace here last time.” He shrugged. “I thought you’d enjoy a chunk of nature—”

  Her soft laughter resonated through him as he pressed his lips to her throat. “A chunk of nature?”

  “Yeah. Why, would you prefer a ‘taste’?” His voice turned husky, and she shifted closer. Good, very good. He knew this tone turned her on—not as much as when Mason used it, but . . .

  The image of her with Mason played out in his mind and got him as hard as he’d been then. He moved his hips away from hers and cleared his throat.

  “Reckon I should tell you I plan to steal you away very soon.”

  “You already did.”

  “Yes, to a place you’ve already been.” He held her still when she tried to wiggle closer. “But you’ve never seen the view from the St. Joseph’s oratory or walked through the sanctuary garden. You haven’t savored some of the best smoked meat in the world or heard the tam-tams near the Cartier monument.”

  This time, he let her go so she could turn to face him. “Montréal?”

  He brushed her hair away from her eyes so he could enjoy the glow of excitement, sparkling like golden liquor in a crystal glass. “You haven’t been to Montréal in about eight months, right?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t feel like I was ever really there. Much as I loved the atmosphere and culture, I didn’t experience half the stuff I would with you.”

  He clenched and unclenched his jaw a few times to keep from grinning like an ass, but another tinkle of laughter told him she wasn’t fooled. “So we should go?”

  Her shoulders lifted in an offhand shrug. “I’ll think about it.”

  Lips pressed together, he tried for an uncompromising expression and failed miserably. Then he chuckled and backed her into the railing. “Brat. How about we leave the first week of May?”

  “But—”

  “You’re done with school for the semester.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “Arg!” She stomped her foot and grabbed a fistful of his shirt. “Will you let me speak?”

  The shade of red that rose high on her cheeks as she got more and more flustered was absolutely adorable. He should tell her off for interrupting and being grabby with him, but he was having too much fun. Mason could teach her to be a proper sub if that’s what she wanted. When they were alone, like this, he didn’t see any reason to get all serious.

  “Go ahead,” he said.

  “What if you make the playoffs?” Her hands smoothed out his shirt, lingering near the spots on his chest that made him twitch. She lightly played her fingertips over his hard nipples while her tongue slid across her lips. Her thoughts seemed to have strayed. “Or even the . . . um . . . the finals?”

  “We won’t.” He bent down to nibble up the length of her throat. Her pulse fluttered against his lips fast as dragonfly wings. “Which means we can spend a few weeks in Montréal before we head to the Alamo.” He grazed the shallow behind her ear with his teeth.

  “Oh—Mmm.” The bright red shade of her cheeks had faded to a light blush of pleasure. Then she went still and the color faded. “The Alamo? In Texas? You want me to go to Texas with you?”

  Well, hell. This wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. “Yeah, I do. You used to talk about going all the time.”

  “I’d love to, but—” Her brow furrowed. “Don’t you stay with your dad while you’re there?”

  “So?”

  “So, you’ve told me so many wonderful things about him, like how protective he is of his kids.” Misery pain
ted shadows around her eyes. She hugged herself and made a halfhearted attempt to twist away from him. “He’ll hate me for how I treated you.”

  “How you . . .” He groaned and pulled her in for a hug. “Silly, he won’t hate you. Even if he knew what happened—which he doesn’t—he’d understand. He’s made his share of mistakes. Namely stayin’ with my mother for years after their relationship fell apart.”

  “After she cheated on him.” She mumbled between the hands she had covering her face. “What if he finds out—”

  “Stop worrying.” He curved his hand under her jaw, tipping her head up. “And kiss me.”

  The way her lips parted for him, the way she groaned when he moved his hands under the jersey to hook them around her waist, was . . . very nice. But his body lagged way behind where the rest of him wanted to go. Possessing her mouth with the deep thrusts of his tongue, he let his mind slip to when he’d last been hard. Two recent memories played over in his head. Oriana with Mason. Oriana with Sloan.

  Blood rushed to his groin. He looked down at the woman in his arms, a woman he’d willingly have waited a lifetime for, and imagined sharing her with one of his closest friends. Or both. Or several.

  He groaned as Oriana’s hand glided over his stomach, then down to cover his stiff erection. Without his jeans to muffle the sensation, he would have come right then. Rein it in a little, Perron.

  Ice, helmets, smelly gloves, ugly guys with no teeth—there, he’d regained control of his body. He traced a finger along Oriana’s hip bone, dipped under the elastic of her panties, touched her silken folds.

  Which weren’t as moist as he’d expected.

  “You not into this, babe?” He kept his tone neutral so she wouldn’t think he was upset. Not that she’d been explicit, but he’d known she and Paul had problems with sex. ‘Course, he’d blamed Paul—and still did—but maybe there was more to it.

  “I’m into it. I just—” Her hips wiggled, and she tried to clamp her legs shut as he lightly tapped his fingertip on her clit. “I keep wondering what you’re thinking about. Just me? Or me with the men?”