Goal Line (The Dartmouth Cobras Book 7) (13 page)

“Leave it alone, Max.” Dominik knew his tone told Max he’d hit a nerve.

He also knew Max assumed their friendship gave him leave to keep pressing if he thought there was a good reason. So, naturally, the man continued as though Dominik hadn’t interrupted. “You haven’t played at the club for a while. You’re not training anyone. You and Sahara have great chemistry.”

Apparently they
were
having this conversation. Dominik sighed and resolved to get it over with quickly. “Sahara isn’t ready for a relationship. I could have overlooked the fact that she’s not a sub, since I have no interest in the lifestyle any longer, but I’m too old for casual flings.”

“Ah, I see. And I reckon all this was discussed on your first date?”

“What does it matter? We went on a date to see if we’re compatible. We are not.” The situation had been far from ideal, but when did life ever lay out the perfect circumstances? It was best that they’d both gotten out before either of them could get hurt.

Letting out a low whistle, Max put his hand on Dominik’s arm before he could go any farther into the parking garage. “I might be way off base, but I think the whole date thing was a mistake.”

Hoping Max had a point, and wouldn’t waste time getting to it, Dominik waited as patiently as possible.

The insufferable man grinned. “I can just see it. You trying to be all ‘I’m not a Dom’ and her being all newbie submissive. Waiting for that presence that gets her all hot. That must have been one hell of a date.”

Clenching his jaw, Dominik waited a few beats before speaking so he wouldn’t let his irritation show. “It wasn’t a horrible date. I enjoy being around Sahara. She’s sweet and easy to talk to and I’m comfortable with her. She’s brave, trying to move on with her life after what that bastard did to her. Even trying to forgive him.”

“Which will make her an awesome friend.”

“I don’t want…” Damn the man. Dominik groaned and rubbed the back of his neck. “Friendship is not all I want from her.”

Folding his arms over his big chest, Max nodded slowly. “Clearly. But she’s starting off from an insecure place, and you’re giving her a man she doesn’t know. A man
I
don’t want to fucking know. Being a Dom wasn’t a hobby for you and it isn’t why things didn’t…”

And this was where Max would stop pushing. Which was understandable. Their friendship had survived, but he likely felt some responsibility for how things had turned out between Dominik and Oriana.

It was long past time to lay that to rest. “Oriana loves you. You give her what she needs. I don’t resent you for that.” He rolled his shoulders. “We weren’t right for one another. I love her, I always will, but I want her happy. She needed me to let her go.”

Max’s lips twitched up in a wry smile. “If you have a bird and you let it go…”

“Exactly.”

“But what about Sahara? You let her go. Does she know she can come back?”

No, I pretty much told her not to.
Dominik grimaced and lifted his head to see Pischlar and White walk past, likely going to wherever Sahara was waiting. He’d pushed her into Pischlar’s arms without even meaning to. And accepted that she had made her choice.

Only, was it a choice? After dealing with Grant, she’d probably gone to the only safe haven available. He couldn’t blame her for turning to the one who’d be there for her, no strings attached. She was still young enough that her experience was limited to boys. And men like Grant.

The idea of her being with Pischlar, with any man, for any length of time didn’t sit well with him. But they hadn’t reached the point of any kind of commitment.

He wasn’t in any hurry to get there. If there was anything between them, it would develop in its own time. With her seeing that he wasn’t waiting around, but he’d never be too far.

Like it or not, offering his friendship might be the best thing. For now.

At least Pischlar won’t be possessive. I don’t have to worry about stealing another man’s woman.
He observed Sahara with the other two men. Her quick smile at a joke Pischlar made, before she looked over as though to make sure Chicklet hadn’t gone far. The quiet parking garage seemed to make her nervous.

I would have her out of here already. Home with me. Safe.

She’d be safe enough with Pischlar and White.

Shallow reassurance, but it would have to do.

He made sure his strides were clear as he got closer and smiled as her eyes met his. The warmth in her returning smile made him wish he didn’t have to wait for her to find her way back to him.

But it will be worth it.

Sahara had to tear her eyes away from Dominik to pay attention to the conversation going on around her. The last she’d caught was that Chicklet was taking off, understanding, but a little irritated, that Vanek had taken a cab to the hospital rather than wait for her.

Before Pischlar and White showed up, Sahara had been grateful for Chicklet’s company. But now she just wanted to get out of here. And Chicklet didn’t seem to want her to leave with them.

“You can’t be serious, Chicklet.” Pischlar sighed, not looking overly upset, but maybe a little tired. “You trust me with your sub, but not with Sahara?”

White snorted. “She trusted you to fuck her sub. And Zovko was right th—”

Chicklet’s fist caught White right in the eye. White stumbled back against Pischlar’s car, making no effort to even protect himself when Chicklet fisted her hand in the collar of his shirt.

Her eyes were as deadly as a snake’s, her tone not much better. “I’m getting real tired of your mouth, boy. Does privacy mean anything to you?”

“Easy there, Chicklet.” Dominik gently pulled Chicklet away from White. “We need the big brute in one piece. And your men need you. Go on, I’ve got this.”

Nodding jerkily, Chicklet straightened the sleeves of her leather jacket. “Fine, but you best make sure she don’t get hurt. And I’m talking about more than her asshole ex.”

Inclining his head, Dominik watched Chicklet head for her Jeep. While Sahara found herself watching him. He was…very calm.

That’s a good thing. Right?

He arched a brow as he glanced over at White. “Do you have a death wish, Bruiser?”

“No! What the fuck did I do?” White frowned, turning to Sahara. “You didn’t know about Pisch and Vanek? I figured you girls talked about everything.”

Sahara’s cheeks heated. She hadn’t been privy to that information. Staying that way would have been fine with her. “Umm…no. But it’s okay. I won’t say anything.”

Pischlar stretched his arms behind his neck, cracking his knuckles. “Awesome. I suppose I’ll have to wait a bit before asking her for a copy of the video though. So you owe me, White.”

White blinked at him. Then his eyes went wide. “There’s a video? Damn, you’re…”

“Easy?” Pischlar looked quite pleased with himself. “Yes. I’m also exhausted. If not for you busting in, Sahara and I would have had a quiet night.”

That got White apologizing, but Sahara didn’t pay much attention to him. For some reason, she was desperate to see Dominik’s reaction. He’d seemed all right with her staying with Pischlar, but did he think they were involved?

“So much on your mind. Pischlar can help you with that.” Dominik chuckled when she stared at him.

Pischlar cut White off, his eyes going a little wide. “Is that an order or an offer, Mason?”

“Neither are mine to give. I appreciate you being there for Sahara. She’s special to all of us.” Dominik brushed his fingers down her cheek, then took a step back, his eyes on her. “You know what you need right now, sunshine. Take it. No regrets.”

Her chest felt tighter, even as some of the weight on her lifted. Whether or not he’d worded it that way, Dominik was giving her permission to do whatever she wanted with Pisch. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but not this.

“Dominik…” She closed the distance between them and put her hand on his arm before he could walk away. “I don’t understand.”

He kissed her forehead. “I think there’s a few things we both need to work out. I’d rather do that before we try to start something, only to say goodbye later.”

“Can I still call you?”

“Whenever you want.”

“Can we hang out? Maybe go back to the theater?” She probably sounded pathetic, but this confused her more than when he’d put her in the cab to go see Oriana.

He nodded, a warm smile on his lips. “I’d like that. And I take back what I said about the club. You’re more than welcome there.”

She swallowed hard and nodded. Her heart was racing, so fast she was light-headed. Maybe he’d decided he’d be willing to train her if she wanted, but that was it.

Well, he might have decided not to go beyond training, but she… Okay, she hadn’t really considered very much in the last twenty-four hours. She’d been afraid and clung to the one person she was sure of. And she wasn’t ready to let go.

Even though she knew nothing would come of being with Pischlar.

She took a deep breath and let her hand fall. “We almost had something. I don’t want you to think you’re losing me, like you lost—”

He put a finger over her lips. “Hush. I don’t think that.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re not her.”

* * * *

Over an hour later, back at Pischlar’s house, Dominik’s words still haunted Sahara. Her biggest fear had been not measuring up to Oriana. When she went to the club, she always looked to the more experienced subs for how to act. Following Silver’s lead never got her very far. What Bower and Richter put up with wasn’t the norm.

Subs like Oriana were clearly preferred, but showing the kind of graceful submission she did was hard. Sahara had tried, but there was a limit to the number of Doms willing to play with a newbie. Pischlar’s interest in her had been nice after weeks of going to the club and not finding anyone willing to give her a shot.

When Sahara played with Pischlar—and once with Pischlar
and
Ford—it had been fun. She’d been able to relax and go along with whatever they wanted to do. But she craved something more. Mr. Keane’s complete control over the subs he scened with was everything she thought a BDSM relationship should be like. For the longest time, she’d gone to the club hoping one day he’d look at her and show the same interest he did in them, but he only scened with women close to his own age. And despite her embarrassing effort to look more mature, he’d rarely spared her more than a fond glance.

She’d moved on, but her needs hadn’t really changed. Mr. Keane had been her ideal Dom for a reason. She just couldn’t put her finger on why exactly.

Dominik was different. She’d only ever seen him with Akira, training her with no intention of keeping her. At one point, Sahara had considered asking him for the same, but she was too close to him already to delve into something temporary. If she let him in, she’d want to give him everything.

She already wanted to.

I’m not ready.

If only she weren’t such a mess. Maybe then she could be the right woman for him.

What’s it gonna be? More therapy? A complete personality transplant?

Tension gathered at the base of her skull as she rejected the idea. She didn’t need to become someone else. He’d either like her for who she was, or he wasn’t worth her time.

He does. And he is.

Her groan drew a soft laugh from Pischlar, who was cooking up some grilled cheese sandwiches in the kitchen. He came out with a tray full of sandwiches, plates and cutlery, and tomato soup divided into three bowls. After setting the tray on the coffee table, he placed a plate in front of her and grinned.

“Help yourself. Do you want a soda? Or some tea?”

“A tea would be nice.” Sahara took one of the sandwiches off the stack and put it on her plate. Damn, that smelled good. Nicely browned with cheese oozing out from the sides. The soup wasn’t from a can either. She inhaled the sweet aroma, her mouth watering. “Thank you so much, Pisch. I have to warn you though, treating a woman like this will make her want to keep you!”

Pischlar’s eyes widened in mock horror as he reached for the plate. “That’s a scary thought. Maybe I should toss this and—”

Sahara batted his hand away, laughing. “Don’t even think about it! And you don’t have to worry about me. I’m good just playing with you.”

He gave her a crooked grin, then plopped down on the armchair, glancing back over his shoulder. “You done yet, Bruiser? Food’s ready!”

The creak of a door and then White came down the hall, still wet from his shower.

And wearing nothing but a towel. He combed his fingers through his damp hair and headed for the empty space on the sofa beside Sahara. Her cheeks heated as he bent down to grab a grilled cheese sandwich. His towel wouldn’t hold for long.

With all those muscles so close to her, she couldn’t help wishing it would fall so she could ogle the rest of him.

The way Pischlar licked his lips, he was having those very same thoughts. But he tore his gaze away and cleared his throat. “The lady and I would like some tea. She’s a guest. You’re not. You’ve gotta earn your food.”

Biting the sandwich in half, White chewed quickly, then dropped the other half on the third plate. “Your food’s worth more than me just making tea. Want anything else, man?”

Shaking his head, Pischlar waited for White to disappear into the kitchen before mumbling, “Nothing you’re willing to give.”

Poor Pisch
. Sahara wanted to hug him, but before she could express any kind of pity, he was smiling again.

He brought his spoon to his lips, one brow arched. “Might wanna eat before that gets cold.”

Right. Eat. No thinking about him not being with the man he was so clearly in love with. Or her inability to love anyone. She dipped her spoon into the soup.

The first bite had her forgetting about thinking too much about anything. Creamy yumminess, sinfully good. She let out a soft sound of appreciation and polished it off, using pieces of her sandwich to clean the last, delectable drops.

They were both finished before White came with the tea. He didn’t seem to mind though. He simply set the mugs in front of them and dug into his food.

“While we’re on the subject of you being a ‘guest,’ Sahara,” Pischlar said, as though the conversation hadn’t even paused after his instructions to White, “I have an idea.”

“Oh?” Sahara sipped her tea, keeping her eyes on Pischlar. She didn’t think he’d want her to pay to stay here, but she would if he asked.

He was a Dom, so maybe he’d want her to do chores?

“Yes. I need to know your limits first.”

She almost choked on her tea. The casual atmosphere had cleared all thoughts of any kind of scene from her head. Which shouldn’t have surprised her. Pischlar had a way of keeping her slightly off-balance no matter how often they played together. Even saying she was willing was no guarantee it would happen, tonight or any other time.

He’d seen her limit list at the club, so his asking now likely meant he had something different in mind.

“Umm…well, they haven’t really changed.” She set down her mug so she wouldn’t spill if he caught her off guard again. “I’m not big on pain, but I don’t mind a little. I don’t like being called names. No slapping in the face…”

Inclining his head, Pischlar leaned back in his chair, completely at ease. His eyes were attentive though, in the way some Doms had that made you feel like they would catch any errant thought. He eyed her hands fiddling with the hem of her skirt.

She folded her hands on her lap.

“You’d indicated an interest in exploring more sexual contact in your recent scenes. Originally, you didn’t want penetration.”

“Jesus, Easy!” White glanced at her, leaning forward a bit like he wanted to protect her. “What kind of fucking conversation is this? She’s not some chick you can just…”

Pischlar gave White a tight smile. “I can just what? We’re negotiating. You’ve been at the club often enough to know how this works.”

“I don’t play.”

“But you observe. Maybe you should stick to that.” This was the first time Sahara had ever heard Pischlar being short with his best friend. Or with anyone really. His posture hadn’t changed, but she wasn’t sure what to make of his tone.

White’s jaw hardened. He moved to stand. “You want me to go, I’ll—”

“Sit.” Pischlar smiled when White immediately dropped back down. “Good. Now, I have no problem with you being here, but if Sahara does, you can crash in the guest room.” He turned his focus back to her. “But first, how much are you comfortable with, sweetheart? I think Mason was right. You could use a release. What it consists of is up to you.”

Her heart raced as she stared at him, half wishing they didn’t have to talk at all. It had been a long time since she’d felt the calm of giving up control. No matter how confused she was about life in general, she couldn’t deny how much she craved the simple peace of a scene with a Dom she could trust.

Dominik had told her to go for it, so she didn’t have to worry that playing with Pischlar would change anything between them, right? Would he be pleased that she’d taken his advice? That she’d gone after exactly what she needed?

Part of what she loved about submitting was not having to make any decisions. The ability to just let go, to worry about nothing but the pleasure of her Dom of the moment, was incomparable. But now she had a nagging little voice in her head that wanted Dominik’s approval.

Which he gave.

But what had he meant, exactly? He wasn’t here to tell her how far she should go. While he might have wanted her to find some release, he wasn’t nearby, offering his warm smile of approval. Or his dark frown when she pushed the boundaries for a reaction.