Iron Cross: The Dartmouth Cobras #6 (22 page)

Both Pischlar and White stared at him. His cheeks went hot. He moved to stand.

“Stay.” Pischlar leaned forward, his tone calm as Tyler froze on the edge of his seat. “You were messed up? Because of Raif?”

White punched Pischlar’s shoulder. “Ease off, Easy.” He jerked his chin at Tyler. “You don’t gotta tell us, man.”

“Shut up, Ian.” Pischlar fixed Tyler with a level look, one he probably knew Tyler couldn’t ignore. “Go ahead, Tyler.”

Fuck, we’re on first names now?
Tyler so didn’t want Pischlar pulling out the Dom card, but—okay, maybe he did. Pischlar might be able to help him with Raif, and Tyler needed all the help he could get. He glanced over at Ian—White—and shrugged to let the man know it wasn’t a big deal.

Then told them both everything that had happened between him and Raif the night after the fight. He hesitated before adding Laura’s suggestions, but ended up just spilling everything.

“Fuck, I’m glad I’m single.” White drained the rest of his coffee, then refilled his mug. “But if you need advice, Easy’s the best person to talk to.”

Tyler nodded. “That’s what I thought, but I get if it’s weird.”

“It’s not.” Pischlar set his cup on the table and smiled. “Neither of your friends are Doms, and this isn’t something you could discuss with just anyone. What did Chicklet say about the situation with Raif?”

“To make him want me.”

“Sounds simple, but you can’t just
tell
him. And she’s with her father, so you don’t want to bother her by asking how to get by this little obstacle.”

Exactly, but Tyler wasn’t sure it was such a “little” obstacle. Telling Raif was more like a great big, mental police blockade, and Tyler knew he
should
just open his mouth and say the words. But he couldn’t do it.

“She
don’t always make me say things. Not all direct like if I’m uncomfortable with telling her, you know?” Tyler clenched his jaw and shook his head. “Raif ain’t like that. So I’m stuck.”

“You can’t just say ‘fuck me’?” White made an irritated sound when Pischlar frowned at him. “What? I don’t get it.”

“You’re not a sub. I’ve had subs that need to be spanked, but will act out rather than ask for it. Yes, talking can be good, but sometimes, as a Dom, you have to realize the words aren’t necessary.” Pischlar rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “I think, since Tyler isn’t sure exactly
what
he wants from Raif, he needs to—
you
need to—keep showing him.”

“Yeah, but
how
?” Tyler gulped the rest of his coffee then put down his mug. “What would work with you?”

Pischlar blinked at Tyler, his lips twisting as though Tyler had just told him they were having a pop quiz instead of a game tonight. He set his hands on his thighs and shook his head. “Good question. I’ve never let things get that complicated.”

“That’s why they call him ‘Easy,’ you know.” White snorted and slapped Pischlar’s shoulder. But he studied Tyler as though considering the question himself. “From the look of the guys he goes for, he wouldn’t touch you while you’re dressed like you’re about fucking twelve.”

“Says the man who needed me to help him dress for his last date. Transformers are classier than Iron Man, Bruiser?” Pischlar grinned at Tyler before cocking his head to wait for White’s reply.

“Hey, met the chick outside the Forum and she was wearing nothing but my jersey.” White winked at Tyler. “Literally. She’s got a fucking amazing mouth though, so I had to go for date number two.”

“Getting your dick sucked in the parking lot doesn’t count as a date.”

“Says who? And we ain’t talking about me. Zovko’s all classy and shit. If he sees Vanek as a kid that’s confused, he won’t want anything to do with him. But if he sees Vanek as a man…” White hooked an arm over the back of Pischlar’s neck, pulling him forward so they were both looking at Tyler. “Picture him, all done up like a grown-up, giving off the ‘come get me, big boy’ vibes. You said we gotta go pick up some new shirts and stuff—”

“It’s spring. And more importantly, you gained about ten pounds. You’re starting to look like you’ll tear through all your shirts like the Incredible Hulk.” Pischlar patted White’s forearm, then stood. “But you’re right.”

“I know I am.” White flexed his biceps, proving Pischlar’s point as the material of his dark blue V-neck T-shirt strained over the muscles. “This oughta make your day. You get to play dress-up with us both.”

If it would help Tyler make some headway with Raif, shopping wouldn’t be so bad. But Pischlar didn’t look too enthusiastic about the trip. Tyler took Pischlar’s lead and went to the entryway to put his boots back on, silent as Pischlar pulled on his coat. They both stood there as White dressed in a worn, black and blue ski jacket and a pair of sneakers. Pischlar was wearing a nice, long leather jacket and cool leather boots that went almost up to his knees. Just seeing White pull on his shoes seemed painful to the other man.

“If having Vanek there will keep you from whining, it’ll be worth it. And I’ll fucking pay you to throw out those shoes.” Pischlar sighed when White shook his head and walked out the front door without answering. He waited for Tyler to pass, then locked the door behind them. “Please tell me you’ll take my advice seriously, Tyler. And not only about what to wear. White has a good point, but Zovko needs you to be straight with him. If he’s backing off, it’s because he cares too much to push anything you’ll regret in the end.”

“I won’t regret it, Pisch.” Tyler stopped on the sidewalk, a little shocked at how certain he sounded. And felt. He couldn’t say how long things with him and Raif would last, but he wanted to see what they could have. He needed to give Raif everything, and the idea of what that meant was scary as hell, but it was the truth.

And Pischlar’s level gaze showed he saw that truth in Tyler’s eyes. He smiled and nudged Tyler toward one of the cars parked in front of the house. “Then let’s do this, kid. Raif won’t know what hit him.”

Tyler had to force himself to breathe slow and not let off how nervous he was about Pischlar being right. But he was done playing around. Raif saw him as a boy, but even as her sub, Chicklet had always made Tyler feel like a man.

It was time to show Raif he was dealing with a man who knew what he wanted. And if that didn’t work…

It has to.
Tyler had gotten past a career-ending injury. He’d fallen in love and lost the woman to three other men. He’d given his heart to a woman who made him stronger by having him kneel at her feet.

Pischlar had said it best.

Raif won’t know what hit him.

* * * *

Scott, hell, even Cort, had that fancy image consultant to dress them. Worked real good for suits and stuff, but Laura did a good job making sure Tyler had nice suits. Normal clothes though? Tyler was pretty sure he couldn’t have done better than having Pischlar help him out. He was getting more looks than usual as he strode across the lower level of the Forum.

But it wasn’t until he got to the player’s lounge that the wardrobe change seemed like it might make a difference. Both Luke’s and Scott’s eyes widened a little. Pischlar glanced over from where he was shoving spinach leaves in the blender in the small kitchen area. A big grin spread across his lips.

They weren’t the only ones who noticed. A few of the guys did double takes when he walked by, either smiling or acting like they hadn’t just looked at him like they weren’t sure who he was. Tyler played it cool, going over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

White hooked his arm around Tyler’s neck, mussing up Tyler’s freshly trimmed and styled curls with his knuckles, talking like he hadn’t been with Tyler during the whole transformation. “Damn, kid. You just come from a photo shoot? Looking good.”

Don’t fucking blush!
Tyler ducked under White’s arm and smoothed his hands over the front of his snug white V-neck shirt. Wasn’t like he’d dressed like a damn slob before, but he was glad he’d done everything Pischlar had told him to. He knew he looked pretty damn good. Not like a kid who didn’t give a shit. He shrugged at White, going along with the act as he took a gulp of water. “My agent’s been on my ass about my image.”

“He ain’t got nothing to complain about anymore.” Pischlar poured his nasty green concoction in a glass and plopped a straw in the mess. He gave Tyler a pointed look, glancing over to the other side of the room.

Tyler followed his gaze. Almost choked on his next mouthful of water as he caught Raif’s hooded eyes going over him. He did choke when Raif’s lips curved because Tyler was staring. Real fucking smooth.

Thing was, Raif always wore nice stuff, but he did it all the time so it was expected. Damn effortless. And even though the way he was looking at Tyler was exactly what Tyler wanted, it shouldn’t be so obvious to him that he’d prompted the change. The man was a Dom and he already had all the power. He’d turned Tyler down again and again.

About time Tyler took some of that power back.

Not that he had the first clue how.

Scott, being a good buddy and all, stepped up to help him out. Lounging on one of the three sofas in the main area, he slid his legs to the floor and waved Tyler over. “Watching highlights of the Islanders’ last game. Come check it out.”

Plunking down on the sofa, Tyler took a deep breath and waited, knowing Scott would have a plan. But he almost threw himself off the sofa when Scott’s fingers skimmed over his hair, one slipping into the strands to toy with a curl.

“What are you doing?” Tyler asked under his breath.

Smirking, Scott shifted closer, speaking just as low. “Just go with it.” He gave the curl a little tug and raised his voice. “White’s right. You look good.”

“Thanks.” Tyler chewed on one side of his bottom lip, not sure how he was supposed to “go with it.” The way Scott was looking at him, like he was edible, was kinda scary. His thin shirt started feeling like a damn parka. He tugged at the neckline. “Uh, I should go take a shower. Didn’t get much sleep and I’m all groggy—or maybe it’s just hot in here. Don’t know.”

“You don’t wanna go out on the ice with your hair all wet.” Scott cocked his head, smiling slowly as he continued to play with Tyler’s hair. “Take off your shirt. Should help you cool off.”

“Uh—”

“Take it off, Tyler.” Scott’s tone was low and husky. His friend must have missed the way Pearce was glaring at him. And Raif’s cold stare.

Be cool. It’s fucking hot in here.
Not like guys didn’t walk around half-naked most of the time. Tyler gave Scott a jerky nod and quickly peeled off his shirt. He leaned back on the sofa, glad taking his shirt off had forced Scott to stop playing with his hair. That kinda attention from his best friends would never stop being weird. Dudes just shouldn’t be touching each other all casually like that. If the line was gonna be crossed, the line he’d let Raif trample over a few times, it should mean something.

His brow furrowed as he saw Scott watching him. His friend was hurting, and this was his way of lashing out at the men who’d hurt him. The touching being weird wasn’t a good enough reason to ask Scott to stop if it was helping him even a little. Which was the only thing that kept Tyler from jumping off the sofa when Scott fingered his nipple piercings.

“They healed well. Do you regret getting them?”

“No. Was a good night.”
Right on, me!
Tyler leaned his head back on the sofa, pleased with how relaxed he sounded despite how sensitive his nipples were. His eyes were half closed as he focused on Scott twisting one end of the long stud going through his flesh. “Worth the beating I got for messing with a body that doesn’t belong to me.”

“Hmm…guess I should talk to Chicklet then.” Scott ran his thumb over Tyler’s nipple, tonguing his bottom lip when Tyler hissed in a breath. “I wanna be there when you get your first tattoo.”

“Yeah? Well, I don’t see Chicklet minding. She’ll like you talking to her first.”

“Always will, boy. I respect your Mistress.”

The “boy,” said with the slightest bit of authority, scrambled something in Tyler’s brain. He hadn’t scened with Chicklet in way too long. The few times Raif had gone all Dom-like on him weren’t enough. Scott wasn’t a Master, but he was alpha enough to give Tyler a hint of what submitting to him would be like. Which was confusing as hell, but Tyler’s body wasn’t picky. This wasn’t just flirting to get a reaction anymore. His own physical response denied his brain of the oxygen and blood it needed. His dick was semi-erect from just Scott’s finger slipping back and forth over his tightening flesh.

He lifted his head just in time to catch the pain in Pearce’s eyes before Pearce headed into the locker room. And the rage in Raif’s. Which made his cock fucking wilt.

Then Callahan came through the same door both men had walked through, holding it open as he surveyed the room with his lips in a thin line. Tyler sat up straight. So did Scott.

Not fast enough.

“Both of you in my office.” Callahan’s teeth made an audible grinding sound. The team dentist was not gonna be happy. His tone snapped when they didn’t move. “Now.”

Tyler scrambled off the sofa and headed to Callahan’s office, just past the locker room, Scott close behind him. When they got inside the office, Callahan didn’t ask them to sit. He closed the door, then moved to stand in front of them.