BREAKAWAY (The Dartmouth Cobras) (7 page)

He chose not to react to the accusation in her eyes. To instead draw her out from a different angle. "Do you enjoy travelling?"

She made a face. "I hate travelling."

"Really?" He shook his head, for the first time certain he was starting to understand her. "With your reaction to the music, I figured you might have a cultural leaning, that perhaps I would take you to a museum for our next date—"

"You're assuming we'll
have
a next date?"

"—or a musical.
Wicked
will be playing in Halifax in a few weeks." Sebastian paused as the waiter laid out their deserts, two large pieces of chocolate cheesecake with two tall glasses of frozen hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and tiny marshmallows. He thanked the waiter and grinned as Jami stared at the plate. "I hope you like chocolate."

Without answering, she brought a forkful of cake to her mouth, rolling her eyes with pleasure even as it crossed her lips. Licking the fork clean, she let out a little sigh. "Oh, you evil man.
 
I can't resist chocolate. One look from you and I knew I was a goner, but now you're feeding me chocolate and offering to bring me to see
Wicked
—my favorite musical after
Cats
by the way. Damn, I'm done for. Take me any which way you want me."

Dios
mio
!
His blood abandoned his brain as his dick swelled with it. Her offer nearly undid him. The way she devoured the desert, with the tip of her pink tongue sweeping over her lips, the way she sucked at the straw—he wanted to ask for the check and take her home. Ravish her all night—no, longer. Once he got her in his bed, he'd never let her leave.

But he wouldn't take her to his bed tonight. She would write him off as a one night stand if he didn't force them both to slow things down. He turned his focus to his plate, keeping his tone light as she questioned him about his career, showing a lot of interest for a girl who 'hated hockey'. She even remarked on his play during recent games, praising him on a goal and tearing apart a few sloppy plays. Her knowledge went beyond that of a fan.

"Does your father play hockey professionally?" He asked abruptly. Her knowledge of the Dartmouth Cobras in particular was beginning to concern him. What if her father was one of his teammates? Few were old enough to have a daughter her age, but it was possible.

 
"Umm, no. He's never played professionally."

Her response set off alarms in his head. He'd never played professionally, but he must be involved in some way if she didn't want to divulge anything else. There had been several scandals with the Dartmouth Cobras over the past year—the kind of drama he avoided to the best of his ability. He participated in charity work, like the team visit to the children's hospital Christmas day, and promotions, without question, but avoided gossip lest he somehow be drawn into the center of it.

He should ask her straight out who her father was, but he feared her response would end things between them before they'd even begun, and he wasn't ready for that. Not yet.

Across the table, she fidgeted, avoided looking at him, giving him even more cause to question her. Inhaling deep, he forced a smile. "Are you finished?"

"Yes. Unfortunately." She sighed, gazed longingly at her half eaten piece of cake, and slouched back, rubbing her stomach. "That was sinfully good. I'll have to come back here one day."

'I'll have to' not 'We'll have to'.
He ground his teeth as the waiter came over with the check, handing over his credit card and signing after adding a generous tip to the total. Jami sweetly asked if the rest of her cake could be packed to go and they waited as the waiter took her plate, returning moments later with a small pastry box tied with a pale pink ribbon.

Jami winked at the waiter. "I know what I'm having for breakfast."

The waiter looked enchanted with her, and lingered until Sebastian caught his eye. Then he cleared his throat and wished them a 'Pleasant evening'.

Sebastian stood and held out his hand. "I must take you out of here."

Laying her hand in his, she nodded, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glazed with desire. "Please do."

They made it to his car before she pulled away and hugged herself. As he reached for her, she held up her hand and shook her head.

"I have to tell you, Sebastian. It's not right if you don't know. You'll regret it later." She took a deep breath. "My father—"

"No." He silenced her with a kiss, pressing her up against the door of his car, savoring her lips, sweet chocolate and wine, tender and soft. He spoke with his lips a breath as from hers. "Don't tell me. I don't want to know. I don't care who he is."

She clung to his shirt, rising up on her tiptoes to kiss him before whispering. "You will."

* * * *

The wind picked up as they drove, slashing against the car as the rain burst from the black clouds above. What a crappy ending to an amazing night. Never in her life had a date turned out so well. Her main goal, which had been to get this big, hot guy in the sack, had wavered as the night progressed. He listened to her, showed interest in everything she said. He didn't go on and on about hockey like she'd thought he would. He didn't treat her like a kid. They shared similar interests—

All right already. He rocks. He's still not going to stick around when you tell him your dad is the Cobras' GM.
Which she should do—would do . . . soon. Holding out wasn't even an option anymore.

He'll hate you if you let him fuck you, then he finds out . . .

Let him hate her. It wasn't as if this could last anyway.

"What has you thinking so hard, mi cielo?" He caught her eye with a sideways glance and put one hand on her bare knee. "You are very quiet."

"Sorry, I'm just deciding—" She pressed her eyes shut as his hand drifted up her thigh. "What are you doing?"

"I warned you that you would pay for teasing me." His fingers stroked, feather-light, down to her knee and back up again, just under the hem of her skirt. "You were saying?"

Sweet liquid heat spilled between her thighs. She crossed her legs and struggled to get her brain working again. "Yes. I was saying . . . ." A soft touch just under her skirt made her insides clench and she moaned. "Oh, please stop! I can't think with you doing that."

He chuckled, eyes on the road, and left his hand half under her skirt. "I apologize. Go ahead."

Her legs unfolded. Parted slightly. She held her breath and fisted her hands by her sides, waiting for his hand to slip lower.

His hand didn't move, but his thumb stroked idly along her inner thigh. Little zings of pleasure caused her clit to swell out past her damp folds. Pressure from his fingers caused her insides to throb. She panted, wondering if she could actually come from just his hand on her leg.

The car stopped. His hand went away and a low, pleading sound escaped her. She stared at him.

He nodded towards the window. "You may need your car tomorrow."

My car?
She shook her head and frowned at the darkness. Finally realized they were in the parking garage at the forum. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth, but she somehow managed to speak. "Are we going to your place?"

"No, mi cielo. You are going home."

"Home . . . with you?"

"No."

"But—"

He pressed his fingers over her lips. "Will you have coffee with me in a day or so? When I return from the game in Pittsburgh?"

She nodded. Then took hold of his wrist and pulled his hand down so she could speak. "But what about tonight?"

Gently twisting his wrist from her grasp, he leaned forward and cupped her cheek. "The night is over, but there will be many more."

"But there can't be. It can't be like that with us, Sebastian." She had to make him understand. Somehow, he'd managed to go this long without hearing about her, but, now that she was back, someone was bound to mention her. "Seriously, I wish it could, which is weird because I went into this with one thing in mind, but—"

His lips covered hers and his fingers raked into her hair, holding her in place as he claimed her mouth, giving her a taste of his strength with the bruising pressure. She melted into him, digging her fingers into his forearms as his tongue thrust into her mouth. He stole her strength, her willpower, with his kiss, letting out a warning growl when she scrambled for the slightest bit of control. Once she surrendered to him, he smiled against her lips and drew away.

"You cannot rush me, mi cielo, but your patience will be rewarded." He ran his thumb over her swollen bottom lip. "This is nothing compared to what I will do to you when you're ready for me."

"I'm ready for you now!"

"Are you? Are you ready for me to restrain you and take your body any way I please? Do you trust me that much after knowing me for less than a day?"

Yes!
The crazy, reckless part of her screamed. But the rational part of her brain, the one she'd spent the last eight months strengthening so she wouldn't fall into the dangerous habits that had put her in the hospital after an overdose, took over. Letting him tie her up would be safer than sniffing coke, but it would be stupid to give him that kind of trust this soon.

Her eyes burned as she shook her head and reached for the door. This fucking sucked. Why did he have to be a Dom? If he wasn't, she would at least have tonight. But he couldn't enjoy himself without taking control and she wasn't ready to give it. She might never be ready.

And even if she was, even if she wanted to try, who she was would ruin any chance they had.

What if you're wrong?

There was only one way to find out. She stepped onto the pavement, slammed the door, and strode around to the driver’s side. Leaning into the open window, she rested her forearms on the ledge and faced him.

"I might eventually be ready, but I have to tell you one thing first."

"Jami—"

"My name, Sebastian. Just my name."

He inclined his head.

"Jami Richter." She straightened and folded her arms over her chest. "Now you know. I don't expect you to call me. Or talk to me ever again."

Spinning around, she moved towards her car, a big fat lump of regret almost choking her. She fumbled with her keys, waiting for the sound of Sebastian driving away.

Instead she heard his car door open. And close. Heard his heavy footsteps coming up behind her. He took her keys and unlocked her door for her.

"Thank you." She whispered as she latched onto the door handle.

He put his hand over hers. Used the other to tip her chin up. Then he smiled. "I cannot call you if you don't give me your number, mi cielo."

She bit back a sob, feeling pathetic and weak for getting so worked up. Slumped against him, she let out a strangled laugh. "This isn't a very smart career move, Mr. Ramos."

"The next time you call me 'Mr. Ramos', I will spank you, gatita."

"Gatita?"

"Kitten."

"Ah." She sighed again. "Almost as bad as 'pet'. Whatever. Give me your number too. If you don't call me after all this I reserve the right to call
you
and give you shit."

He laughed and rubbed her back. "I'll keep that in mind."

They exchanged numbers and he held her for a bit longer as she tried to process everything. As if he knew she just wasn't ready to accept it. He didn't seem surprised when she grabbed hold of his shirt and gave him a hard look. "You really don't care?"

The edge of his lip crept up. "I really don't."

And damn it, she believed him.

Chapter Three

Dean pulled out a few files he wanted to work on while on the road and smiled over at Silver as she slipped into his office. Her slightly rounded face usually glowed with health since she was taking such good care of herself for the baby. She was eating plenty even though she grumbled over almost every bite, but for some reason, her skin had an almost green cast today. Since she wasn't going on the trip with him, he'd suggested she sleep in, but she'd insisted one of them needed to be at the office. Thankfully, Oriana would be here as well, and could be trusted to keep Silver from stressing out too much over the details that needed to be handled as the Cobras worked to cinch the sixth spot in the playoffs. And she would keep their bastard half-brother from upsetting her sister.

Or she would try anyway. Ford Kingsley—now Ford Delgado since he'd officially changed his name to the delight of his biological father—spent every day at the forum making a pest of himself. If Oriana didn't spend an equal amount of time here trying to keep him in line, Silver would insist on doing it herself. But today, Oriana was enjoying the morning with her men before they headed out. Which meant Ford had probably used the opportunity to mess with one of Silver's many projects. He usually only managed to irritate her, but maybe this time he'd done some real damage. Dean couldn't think of anything else that would make Silver look this sick.

Unless she was actually sick?

"Sit down, pet." He gave her a hard look when she shook her head. "Landon will be here in a moment, and if he sees you looking like this I might as well tell Tim to leave him here and put in the backup goalie."

She dropped into the chair he held out for her and covered her face with her hands. "You're going to be so mad at me."

This can't be good.
Moving forward, he lowered to one knee to put them at eye level. "Try to relax. You scared both yourself and Landon the last time you fainted."

She mumbled between her hands. "The doctor says that's normal when I stand up too fast."

"Yes, but he also said he would agree with Landon's suggestion of keeping you in the hospital for observation if you faint again." Overkill, perhaps, but the doctor understood the situation and tended to indulge Landon. Which, as sympathetic as she was, drove Silver crazy. As usual, Dean had to be the calm, reasonable one. "Your blood sugar has been very low."

"Not since you've been controlling
everything
I eat!"