Defending Donovan Read online

  Defending Donovan

  Face-Off Legacy #6

  Jillian Quinn

  Contents

  Also by Jillian Quinn

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  What’s Next?

  Are you on the team?

  Also by Jillian Quinn

  About the Author

  Also by Jillian Quinn

  FACE-OFF SERIES

  Parker

  Kane

  Donovan

  Jameson

  Ethan

  Dean

  FACE-OFF LEGACY SERIES

  Pucking Parker

  Keeping Kane

  Teaching Tucker

  Jocking Jameson

  Kissing Killian

  Defending Donovan

  STANDALONE ROMANCES

  On Call

  Curveball

  Chasing Ella

  One More Chance

  For more information, visit JillianQuinnBooks.com.

  Copyright © 2018 by Jillian Quinn

  All rights reserved.

  Visit my website at JillianQuinnBooks.com

  Edited and proofread by Swish Design & Editing

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, both living or deceased, establishments, businesses, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Chapter One

  Drake

  My dick has a life of its own. The girl I met in the hallway after class hasn’t stopped begging me for another pic, and so who am I to deny her? She’s in my cell phone contacts as Becky Big Tits. At least I think her name is Becky. I’m almost positive it starts with a B.

  “Give me a sec,” I tell Tucker Kane, one of my closest friends and teammates. “I gotta send this chick another pic.”

  He shoots me a nasty look and then shakes his head, laughing. “Fucking weirdo,” he mutters under his breath.

  Leaving Tucker outside, I duck into the bathroom long enough to whip out my dick and snap a picture to send to Becky. By now, I would imagine most girls on campus have probably already seen my favorite body part. I’m sort of known for it. Freshman year, I sent a picture to one girl—more as a warning than anything—and from there, I started getting tons of requests and random texts from girls I didn’t even know.

  So, it’s not like I’m a total perv.

  They ask for it.

  As I step into the hallway, Becky sends me a text message full of hearts, eggplant emojis, and a smiley face with a tongue hanging out. She’s not even a challenge.

  How boring? Later, Becky.

  My dad always told me a girl who doesn’t make you chase her isn’t worth your time. I hate to admit that he’s right, but this girl has already lost my attention. It would be nice to meet a girl who’s not begging for it.

  Everyone on campus thinks they know the real Drake Donovan—even my friends and teammates. They couldn’t be more wrong about me. And if anyone ever discovered my secret, this fake reputation I’ve built would be destroyed. So, I have to maintain these bullshit relationships with easy girls. It’s easier than admitting to my friends about the fact I’ve been lying to them for years.

  I slip my cell phone back into my pocket and sigh.

  “I’m surprised there’s anyone left at Strick U who hasn’t seen your dick,” Tucker says with a smug expression on his face.

  I shrug. “New year, new girls.”

  He snorts. “Eventually that’s gonna catch up with you. Wait until you go pro and send one to the wrong puck bunny. Look what happened to Preston’s dad when he played for the Caps.”

  Well over twenty-five years ago, Alex Parker got into a ton of trouble for having sex with a puck bunny, who turned out to be the granddaughter of the team owner. Oops. And it didn’t help that the hotel caught the whole thing on camera. That’s how Preston’s dad ended up playing for the Philadelphia Flyers alongside my dad. Now, he’s the head coach of the team. He also played with Tucker’s dad, who’s now the general manager.

  What happened to my Uncle Alex back then could have killed his career. So, I guess I better be a little more careful when it comes to eager girls who want a piece of me. Still, even though I know I shouldn’t do it, I do it anyway.

  “It’s not like I’m settling down anytime soon,” I shoot back. “Until then…”

  “No point,” Tucker says, holding open the door to the lecture hall for me. “Too many girls to choose from.”

  Tucker practically lives over at the Delta Sigma Phi chapter house. He could be a member of the fraternity with how much he parties with them. Every weekend, he brings home a new girl. Most of the guys who live in our house do. With nine other hockey players living with me under one roof, the on-campus house we share is sometimes like a miniature version of the Playboy Mansion, especially on weekends when we don’t have a game or practice.

  When we step outside, the heat smacks me in the face. It’s warm for October, much hotter than previous years. Our final hockey season with the Strickland Senators just started, though it doesn’t seem cold enough for it to be fall.

  We walk toward the Student Activity Center, also known as the SAC by everyone on campus. Within minutes, we’re climbing the stairs to the second floor. My stomach growls from the overwhelming scent of fried foods, and a slight pain digs into my side. When was the last time I ate? This morning after practice, I guess. I was so busy with hockey, classes, and then Becky, I didn’t even think about it.

  Tucker walks in front of me to grab each of us a tray and hands one to me. On our way over to the buffet line, I move out of the way of a man pushing a metal cart into the kitchen and accidentally bump into someone hard with my elbow. The tray slips from my hand. I reach out to catch it, but it hits the tiled floor, falling in front of the girl I knocked over.

  She peeks up at me, her long, dark hair framing her soft features. I stare at her for far too long, stunned by the sight of Taylor Bradshaw on the floor. With nothing more than pink gloss on her pouty lips, she’s gorgeous. She’s the one girl I’ve always noticed on campus but could never get anywhere near. Sometimes, I catch her looking at me, but not for long before she speeds away as if she thinks she’s too good for me.

  “Drake,” another girl says from behind me.

  I angle my body to glance at the girl I just sent a dick pic to, surprised to see her here. Her lips part for me, a tiny smile turning up the corners of her mouth.

  Fucking hell.

  “I was just thinking about you…” Becky holds out her hand and continues, “… and here you are… and with Taylor, of all people.” Her eyes glaze over at the sight of Taylor on the floor. “How weird is that?” Her voice reaches a higher octave the longer she speaks, and I’m now reminded why I prefer to text her.

  I look down at Taylor, about to extend my hand when she snarls
at me. Yes, fucking snarls like a dog about to rip my arm off. Okay…

  With one woman on each side of me, I try to get rid of the one I don’t like first.

  “Look, Becky,” I say before she interrupts me.

  “Becky,” she snaps, crossing her arms over her chest. “My name is Jackie.”

  At least I was right about the big tits part.

  I give her one of my best little- boy faces which will usually get me out of trouble with women. It always worked with my mom and has gotten me pretty far over the years. This time it doesn’t work. Becky—who’s apparently Jackie—blows out a puff of air, her blonde hair falling in front of her eyes. When I don’t respond to her outburst, she storms off, leaving me alone with Taylor, who’s now standing at my right side.

  “Well, if it isn’t the Grand Master of Dick Pics,” Taylor says bowing in front of me, with her hand outstretched in a joking manner.

  This is why I’ve always liked her—that mouth of hers. She’s so damn sassy and the hardest girl on campus to score. Taylor’s a real challenge, one I would gladly accept.

  I can’t help but laugh at her display.

  But I have no idea how to reply.

  For once, I’m at a loss for words.

  “It’s customary when you knock a girl on her ass to help her up,” she says in a condescending tone. “Didn’t your parents teach you any manners?” She covers her mouth and laughs. “Oh, right. I already know the answer. No. Because what kind of person texts random girls pictures of their junk?”

  “Were you with Becky? Ugh… I mean, Jackie.”

  Fucking jackass.

  “Yeah, I was with her when you sent those pics. She’s on my team, you idiot.” She raises her hand to give me a thumbs up. “Real classy, Drake.”

  I’ve had a massive boner for Taylor since I saw her play basketball in my sophomore year, and now our first encounter is… fucked-up. This is not what I had in mind. I was hoping when I finally talked to Taylor it would be under different terms and with her being a lot less hostile.

  She looks hot in her navy-and-white Strickland Senators basketball uniform with matching Chuck Taylors. Tall and toned, her body has curves that are making it hard for me to focus. Most girls fit under my arm but not Taylor. She’s around six feet tall, strong and built to perfection. At my height, it’s hard to find women I can kiss without breaking my neck.

  “You’re just mad I haven’t sent one to you.” I wiggle my eyebrows at her and remove my phone from my pocket to gauge her reaction. “We can fix that right now.”

  “Wow, are you serious?” She pushes her hands to her hips, glaring at me. “Like I would ever give you my number, you pig.” She practically growls the words at me. “You don’t have a chance with me, buddy.” She finishes by poking me in the chest with her finger.

  Way to go, Drake.

  Before I can get in another word, she disappears into a sea of people swarming into the cafeteria, leaving me wondering what the hell just happened.

  What was I thinking? That shit will never work on her. And while I feel like she just left me standing here with my dick in my hand, she also left me with an impossible challenge.

  By the end of the semester, Taylor Bradshaw will be mine.

  She doesn’t know it yet.

  Chapter Two

  Taylor

  My best friend is the luckiest bitch alive. Bex Bryant, my teammate and roommate since freshman year, walks alongside me through campus, rehashing the dinner date she had last night with Preston Parker. He’s one of the hottest players on campus and the captain of the men’s ice hockey team.

  I’ve forced her to tell me the story at least ten times since she came home last night. It still doesn’t seem real. Well, it wasn’t a date, per se. Her dad was at the pizza shop with them. So were a few of Preston’s teammates—Drake included. Ugh, I still can’t stand the thought of that dickwad and the way he spoke to me in the cafeteria.

  Drake had some nerve dissing Jackie like that after sending those pictures to her. In his defense, she was begging him for them. Obviously, I can see why. Drake’s dick should have its own postal code or at least a P.O. Box to send some fan mail. Jeez, it really is impressive. Still, what kind of douche makes a habit of sending dirty pics to every girl on campus who wants them? Even though he’s hot as puck, he’s fucking nasty.

  Like Drake, Preston is a mega-talented hockey player and the son of a famous hockey player. Both Preston and Drake are the kind of guys every girl on campus drools over. The only difference is Drake is a major asshole, and Preston at least seems decent. And Bex has a shot with him.

  “I still can’t believe you had dinner with Preston Parker.” My voice reaches a higher octave, my excitement getting the best of me, accidentally catching the attention of the people passing by us. “My ovaries would have exploded sitting next to him.”

  “Would you keep it down?” She lowers her voice, power walking past the crowd on the sidewalk with us. “I don’t think everyone heard you across campus, big mouth.”

  Bex isn’t allowed to date her father’s players. He has strict rules about her doing as little as talking to the guys on the men’s ice hockey team. After three years as the assistant coach, her dad was upgraded to the head coach of the varsity team this year. She’s afraid to mess anything up for him, and dating his favorite player definitely will cause some friction between them.

  Fixing the strap of the gym bag over my shoulder, I sidestep a few people and catch up to Bex, matching her pace. “Shit. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking,” I say to calm her down. “But this is kind of a big deal for you. After obsessing over his mom for like… ever, how are you not as excited as I am about this? He talked to you. Preston sat next to you.” I fan myself with my hand, still in awe that Bex has an actual date with Preston lined up for this weekend. “I would die if he even breathed in the same airspace as me.”

  Okay, maybe that’s a bit dramatic, even for me. But what really excites both of us is the meeting she’ll get with his mom. Holy shit! Known by everyone in the sports world, Charlotte ‘Coach’ Coachman—now Parker—is the top sports agent in the country. She was the first woman to land huge deals for clients. Dante West, the best basketball player who ever played the game, was one of Coach’s clients before he retired.

  Bex and I are major fans of his, and over the years, we’d gossip about how cool it is to see a woman standing alongside a player like Dante as he held up the Larry O’Brien Championship Trophy, not once, but seven times during his NBA career.

  I started playing basketball when I was five years old, same as Bex. We instantly bonded over our favorite sport during our first year at Strickland University, and now we’re in our final season together. The chance to meet Coach is huge for Bex, considering she wants to become a sports agent after graduation.

  “He’s just a hockey player,” Bex deadpans. “Stop acting like a girl.”

  “Must I remind you that I am a girl?” I counter with a hint of laughter in my tone. “And he’s the hottest guy on campus. Preston is taking you to meet his mom. Hello, that’s major. Wake up, Bex. You have a date with Preston Parker this weekend. I’m so jealous right now I almost hate you.”

  I hate to admit aloud that I’m a tiny bit jealous of Bex. She gets to meet Coach. That’s huge. I would kill to be in her shoes right now.

  She nudges me in the arm with her elbow and laughs. “You’re not allowed to hate me over boys. It’s in the roommate agreement.”

  Dodging her second attempt to elbow me, I snort. “Roommate agreement?”

  “Yeah, it’s like unspoken rules we both have to follow. No fighting over boys is one of them.”

  “But he’s Preston Parker,” I point out.

  “Will you stop saying his name like he’s a big deal?”

  I narrow my eyes at her. She’s lost her damn mind. “He is a big deal, silly. Did you fall down and bump your head? Just because you have more of a crush on his mom than him doesn’t make him any less yummy.
Hey, if you don’t want him, I’ll be more than happy to be your substitute.”

  She rolls her eyes at me. “Does all your fangirling have a point?”

  “Of course, it does. You have a shot with Preston. Take it, girl. This is your one chance. Girls like us don’t get these kinds of opportunities to date guys like him. They usually go for cheerleaders or sorority girls.”

  “My dad has rules about his team,” she hedges. “You know them well.”

  “How can I forget? No talking to his players. No hanging out with his players. No dating his players.”

  “Technically, I already broke one of them when I talked to Preston in the locker room.”

  Yesterday, before she ran into Preston and his teammates at Gio’s, a pizza shop on campus, she literally ran head first into Preston’s chest on her way through the men’s locker room. I couldn’t believe she committed to walking back to her dad’s office once she saw the players were still getting dressed in the locker room. I would have died.

  Her dad often tells her to meet him in his office, where he obsessively watches game tapes and strategizes for each game. Bex has the same obsessive behavior as her dad when it comes to basketball. We both do. Sometimes, we spend hours at a time reliving the games we lost in hopes it will help us learn from our mistakes.

  “Your dad broke his own rule by introducing you to his players. He shouldn’t have done that if he was going to be such a hard ass.”