Defensive Zone (The Dartmouth Cobras #2) (42 page)

She'd felt strong when she'd left the hotel
room. Power suits usually gave her the confidence to face all those
people who thought she had no business playing owner. She wasn't
the Silver Delgado that flirted and slept around, she was . . . she
was the one Dean had come to respect. The one Dean treated like a
partner. The one Dean loved.

And all Sebastian had to do was look at her
and she didn't know who the hell she was anymore. Dean said she was
submissive. He'd proved it. But she'd never thought she was
that
submissive.

Lemon trees surrounded her as she ambled
along the garden paths, heading for the fountain with the cool
dancing statue and all the stone birds. There was another fountain
right in front of the hotel with bright lights shooting out of the
rippling pool of water, but she didn't want to be around people
right now. As long as they were in LA, people might recognize her.
And she'd had quite enough of 'old friends' for the evening, thank
you very much.

In front of the fountain, breathing in the
warm air, all flowers and green things lingering in the heat that
still rose from the stone path, she managed to regain her center
and stopped picturing herself kneeling to any Dom that glanced her
way. Actually, for a moment she pictured Sloan trying to pull off
'The Look' with her and snickered. Maybe she hadn't turned into a
hopeless doormat after all.

"I take it the walk helped?"

Silver closed her eyes and relaxed into Dean
as he came up behind her and wrapped her up in his arms. "Yes, the
walk helped very much. But . . . I didn't embarrass you, did
I?"

"Embarrass me?" Dean let her go and spun her
around. "What in the world gave you that idea?"

"You're a Dom. He's a Dom. He probably thinks
you haven't trained me very well."

Dean shook his head as he pulled off his
jacket and laid it on the grass by the fountain. "I
haven't
trained you very well, but there's no rush. We'll decide how far
you'll go together." He sat on the jacket and patted the space he'd
left beside him. He waited until she sat before he continued. "I'm
just sorry I let him make you feel uncomfortable. I thought you
were attracted to him and I needed you to know—"

"Yes, you told me you wouldn't make me
choose. I thought that was just with . . . anyway, it doesn't
matter. I don't want to—I'm not interested in Sebastian.
Conversation over."

"Oh no you don't. Talk to me, Silver." Dean's
tone took on that edge that told her he wasn't beyond making her
speak. And she knew very well that he was capable. His hard eyes
bored into hers as he reached out and stabbed his fingers into her
bun, using it as a handle to tip her head back. "You're attracted
to Sebastian."

"Yes." It came out as a whisper, but she was
sure he heard her.

"He's the 'uber Dom' you told me about."

"Yes."

He nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on the water
trickling steadily into the fountain. "What happened between you
two?"

Damn. He had to ask.
Well, the story
should amuse him if nothing else. "I went to an elite BDSM club
Asher's friends were raving about. Found myself a hot guy pretty
quick that would give me a bit of kinky fun. Not too dominant, of
course, still pretty new to 'the scene'. He tried to top me and got
all aggravated when I wouldn't submit for real. I laughed at him
and he grabbed my arm real hard—so a dungeon monitor came over."
She shivered as she recalled the cold look Sebastian had given the
man. His power oozed off him in waves and her body seemed to absorb
it. "The guy took off and Sebastian pulled me aside. He told me I
was cheating myself of the experience, that I needed someone who
could 'handle me'." She squirmed as she realized Dean had told her
pretty much the same thing. "I got all sassy and said 'Someone like
you?' and . . . all he said was 'Yes'. He latched onto my cuffs and
clipped them together and I freaked out because I could feel myself
surrender. A few words. A look. And I was a goner."

Dean nodded slowly. "Did you tell him you
were afraid? Did he notice?"

"Oh, he noticed. He whispered in my ear 'This
ends only when you say your safeword.' So I said it. He unclipped
my wrists and hugged me. Told me I wasn't ready. Told me to come
back to him when I was."

"You're ready now, Silver."

"I know."

"Then . . . ?"

"Then what? Why not go for it? Just because
I'm attracted to a man doesn't mean I need to fuck him. I love
being with you. You don't make me feel cheap or slutty. Like you're
using me or I'm using you. It's more! What's between us is more and
I would never consider being with another man unless—" What the
hell was she saying? "No. There's no 'unless'. I'm with you. You're
stuck with me."

"I don't consider that a hardship, precious."
He released her hair, then shifted positions, pulling her inwards
to sit between his thighs. The tension left her scalp as he took
her bun apart. "But I'm sorry that I read you wrong. I don't ever
want you to feel trapped with me."

She groaned, caged between his legs, forced
to endure the blissful massage that made the roots of her hair
tingle while forming coherent words. "I don't feel trapped."

"But you may crave the attentions of another
man in the future. If Sebastian was something you wanted—"

"Wanted. Needed. I have no idea what you're
trying to give me anymore, Dean."

"I'm trying to make you happy."

"Well, handing me off to a guy that scares
the crap out of me isn't going to make me happy."
Handing me off
to anyone won't make me happy.
Why couldn't he understand that
she needed more than the lust she felt with Sebastian? That she
needed something deeper from a man. Something real. She pursed her
lips and latched onto his wrists to still his hands. Then she
looked up at him. "And what makes you think I'm not happy
anyway?"

"I'm not blind, Silver. You were doing the
ice princess act again." He pinched her chin and gave her a hard
kiss. "Was it your father or—"

"Yes. My father."
What else could possibly
be bothering me? The stupid suspensions? The fact that I don't have
to worry about seeing Landon anymore?
A great big fist clenched
in her chest and she gasped to breathe past it. And spoke quickly
before Mister Observant thought she was hiding something. "My
father pissed me off, okay? And I hung up on him. Very rude. You
should definitely punish me."

Dean's eyes widened. Then he threw his head
back and laughed. "Punish you? I'd rather reward you! How about
breakfast in bed? Champagne and strawberries. And crepes."

Mmm, that sounds nice.
She rested her
head on his shoulder and smiled. "Only if you make the crepes. You
spoiled me from eating the ones anyone else makes."

"Deal."

The fountain gurgled as they sat there for
what seemed like hours, just enjoying the peace and quiet, Dean
taking in the sights and Silver watching him. Her fingers traced
the fine lines in his white shirt. It smelled a bit like ironing
and starch—thanks to her—and he smelled like the light, woodsy soap
he'd brought along because he preferred his own to the hotel
brands. She loved that about him. No matter where they were, he
was, well, Dean. He didn't have a thousand different faces like the
people she'd known. Or like her. Or like Landon.

She frowned at that last thought. Landon
didn't have a thousand different faces. Just two.

"We've got two more days before we head home,
Silver." Dean kissed the top of her head. "I won't push you. Not
this time, but—"

"That's good to know." She stuck her fingers
between his shirt buttons to toy with his chest hair. "I hate it
when you're pushy and bossy and—"

He pushed her onto her back and she stared up
at him as his teeth flashed in a grin. His hands framed her
shoulders as he leaned over her. "You hate it, do you?"

"Mmmhmm." She squirmed as he lowered one hand
to undo her pants. "Oh! Not out here!"

"Yes. Right here." He made a rough sound in
his throat as his fingers delved into her panties and slicked
through her folds. "As I was saying." He shoved his fingers deep
inside her and curved them forward. "You have until we get home to
tell me what the 'unless' was."

She panted as he stroked her up to climax and
groaned as she considered his words. "Do I have to?"

His head titled to one side and he smiled.
"Yes. But shall I take a guess?"

"Only." She gasped as he pressed in further.
"If you." Her thighs trembled as he stroked that spot and red hot
coils wound tighter and tighter inside her. "Don't stop."

"I won't." He stretched out, half on her,
half above her, his fingers still stirring and thrusting. Then he
said softly, "you've only ever truly submitted to one other man,
Silver."

"I don't want to talk about him! Oh!" One
last, lingering stroke and she couldn't have managed another word
if she'd wanted to. Her hips bucked as she rode the sensation to
the shuddering end.

"All right, my little dragonfly." Dean gave
her a hooded look as he brought his fingers to his lips and sucked
them clean. "You can consider this conversation over."

Why is that not at all reassuring?

He didn't give her time to dwell.

In the graveyard, Cimetière de Grande-Rivière
in Gaspe, kneeling in the damp earth, Landon swept the dead grass
away from the small, white marble plaque and brushed his fingers
over the engraved words. 'Landon Bower Jr'. The birth date and the
date of death were the same. His brow furrowed as he read the poem
he'd had carved beneath it. A Dream Within a Dream by Edgar Allen
Poe. His parents had tried to talk him out of using it, but—he
lifted his head and smiled at his grandfather's tombstone, right
beside his son's, where he could watch over him forever. His
grandfather had read Landon the poem when he was too young to
understand the meaning. He would have approved.

"I never thought I wanted kids, LJ." His eyes
stung and he coughed to clear the tightness from his throat. "But I
wanted you."

He clung to the only memories he had of his
son. The ultrasounds he made sure were scheduled when he wasn't on
the road. The kicks against his cheek when he sang to a swollen
belly. And the day his son was born.

The young nurse had tears in her eyes as she
shook her head and reached out to touch his arm. "I'm so sorry.
Would you . . . would you like a moment to say goodbye?"

No air to speak, he'd just nodded, cradled
the tiny blue bundle she placed in his arms, and pressed a soft
kiss on the cold brow. If not for the color of his son's skin, he
could have convinced himself he was sleeping.

He'd managed to hold it together until the
nurse took his son away. Then something inside him shattered. Right
there, in the hall, his knees gave out. His father, who'd stayed
close through the difficult labor, caught him. Embraced him tightly
before telling him firmly that he needed to be strong. That his
baby's mother needed him.

A tear escaped and he let it fall. He focused
on the phoenix at the top of the plaque, rising into flames
straight from its shell. He couldn't say whether he believed in
heaven, or something else, but he knew, without a doubt, that his
son had gone on to something more.

"Daddy was really stupid, kid." He shook his
head and laughed. "I always imagine you're watching me play,
cheering me on from wherever you are. But I went and got myself
suspended." His lips curved into a rueful smile. "Then again,
you're my kid. You probably didn't mind me going after that guy.
Your great grandfather would have said I did the right thing too.
I'll just have to make up for being gone next time I get on the
ice."

"I agree."

He'd been so focused on speaking to his son
that he hadn't heard Richter approach. They hadn't had a chance to
speak since before the league had handed down his suspension. Tim
was the one who told him to go home and get his head on straight.
He had no idea how Richter had found him—
probably Becky—
but
he didn't want him here. This was something he did alone, at least
once a year. Even Becky and his parents wouldn't intrude on his
time with his son.

"What do you want, Richter?"

"Why didn't you tell me? Or better yet,
Silver." Richter took a step back as Landon rose. "You could have
taken some time off to come down here and—"

"I wanted him to see me play. He—" Damn it,
the man was going to think there was something wrong with him. Not
that he had to explain it, but for some insane reason he needed
Richter to understand. He respected the son-of-a-bitch more than he
could say. "This was my dream—playing pro. I gave up everything to
get where I am today. If he'd lived I would—"
Shit, he's not
going to think I'm insane. He's going to think I'm an asshole.
"I would have had to play on his birthdays. But he'd be okay with
that, because he'd be so proud to see his daddy out there."

Richter put a hand on Landon's shoulder and
squeezed. "I'm sure he's very proud of you. And if it counts for
anything, even though I hated not having you out there for the last
few games, I'm damn proud of you too."

"Shit, man." Landon's throat locked and he
tried to pull away. Richter jerked him forward and barred an arm
across the back of his shoulders. Landon snarled over a sob. "No
one comes here when I visit. I don't want anyone to see me like
this."

"Too fucking bad." Richter thumped his back
hard, then moved away. "You
need
someone to stop giving you
what you want."

"You're a pushy bastard." Landon rubbed his
suit sleeve over his eyes, then shoved his hands in his pockets.
"So, I take it you didn't come to give me shit about getting
suspended?"