Page 29

Chapter 29

Declan

It’s probably no coincidence given what’s going on with Hannah, but I’m fucking killing my drills at practice today. I’m skating circles around the other guys, I haven’t missed a single shot or play I’ve made since we started, and I’ve still got plenty more energy to keep this up.

Or maybe this is all just because we’re finally out of the pre-season and into the real games. It won’t be much longer before I’ll officially hit the ice as a full-fledged member of the Aces and show Denver and the rest of the NHL just what I can do.

I can’t fucking wait.

I’ve been working toward this for so long that it’s almost hard to believe that it’s finally here and happening. Our pre-season games so far have given me a little taste of what it’s going to be like to be one of the pros, but it’s not quite the same thing. The stakes are lower, at least for the rest of the guys. They’ve already proven themselves and earned their spot on the team, and while I’ve had a few great plays myself, there’s a lot more riding on my performance than theirs.

So they might be able to take practice a little less seriously than I can. But I don’t honestly think I’d be treating this any differently even if I’d been on the team for five years. Playing hockey and being in the NHL mean way too much to me to ever not take it seriously, even something as mundane as a practice session.

But we’ve been at it for almost two hours now, and I can tell the rest of the guys are starting to wear down. Coach Dunaway picks up on it too because he blows his whistle and motions us off the ice to the locker room, signaling the end of practice. The rest of the team streams away to the locker rooms, but Dunaway signals for me to hold back as I make my way and claps a hand on my shoulder when he reaches me.

“Your sessions with Hannah must really be paying off. You were on fire today,” he says, and my chest clenches at the reference to me spending time with his daughter. He doesn’t seem like he has a clue that anything is going on between us other than our yoga lessons, and I’d very much like to keep it that way for both mine and Hannah’s sake.

“Uh, yeah, it’s been great working with her.” I stumble over my words and have to keep myself from visibly wincing at it, but Dunaway either doesn’t notice or chooses not to acknowledge it.

“I told you she was good. And I can tell from the way you were skating tonight that it was the right call to hook you two up.” I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from reacting to his choice of words. I’m sure he doesn’t mean anything by them, but there’s always the possibility. But when he smiles and pats my shoulder again then starts walking away, I breathe a sigh of relief.

“We’ve got our first real game coming up soon,” he says over his shoulder as I follow him toward the locker room. “How are you feeling?”

“I can’t wait. Like literally can’t wait. They aren’t going to know what hit them until it’s too late.”

Dunaway beams at me. “That’s exactly what I want to hear, and it’s what I’m hoping for too. For better or worse, we did so well last season that all my guys are a known commodity now—except for you. I’m hoping you’ll be just the wildcard we need out on the ice to keep all these other jokers on their toes.”

“Leave it to me,” I tell him, although I cringe internally because I’m more of a wildcard than he knows. I have no idea how he’s going to take it if he ever finds out there’s more between me and Hannah than just yoga lessons, but I’m willing to bet it isn’t going to go over well. Thankfully, that isn’t a bridge we have to cross right now, so I just head into the locker room and peel off my sweaty, sticky gear before I hit the shower. By the time I get out, everyone else is already finished and milling around the locker room talking.

“How’s the wedding planning going? Making your final preparations?” Sawyer asks Reese, who lets out a long breath. The rest of the guys laugh.

“We’re getting there. At this point, I don’t care about the details. I just want to marry Callie. Whatever the wedding ends up looking like, it’ll be perfect just because she’s there.”

Sawyer snorts. “That’s dangerously close to a rom-com line, man.”

Noah grins. “He’s in love, let him be cheesy.” Then he shifts the conversation, nudging Sawyer’s shoulder. “What about you and Violet? You two gonna set a date soon?”

Sawyer groans, scrubbing a hand down his face. “We’re trying. Turns out, weddings don’t just plan themselves.”

“No kidding.” Reese shakes his head. “Every time I think we’ve made a decision, another one pops up. Cake tastings, chair colors—like, do I look like a guy with strong opinions on linens?”

Sawyer chuckles. “Yeah, but you’re doing it for Callie. That’s the whole point, right?”

Reese’s face softens instantly, his eyes warming. I almost laugh, because our teammates aren’t wrong—he’s clearly head over heels for his fiancée. “Yeah, it is.”

“I could use a drink,” Theo declares, stretching out his shoulders as he glances around the room. “Who’s down to hit The Hideout on the way home?”

“Sounds good to me,” Noah says.

Theo glances my way. “You coming too, rookie? Or is it past your bedtime?”

“Don’t make me drink you under the table, old man,” I fire back, my words eliciting hoots and laughter from the rest of the team. Chuckling, Theo throws one arm around my shoulders and pulls me into him to mess with my hair.

“I think you need to learn some respect for your elders, kid.”

“I’ll start learning as soon as you have something to show me.”

Wearing a wide smile that makes his dimple pop, Theo gestures at me then throws his hands in the air. “Listen to the mouth on this one. I swear, I don’t know what they’re teaching kids in schools these days.”

“They’re teaching them all the things you never learned. You know, like basic math and spelling,” Reese tells Theo, and the locker room erupts in laughter.

“Alright, alright. Let’s save the trash talking for the other teams,” Noah says as he steps in the middle of everyone. “I’ll meet you all there. You know where it is, Declan?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool, then let’s get moving.”

Everyone spills out of the locker room together, still laughing and bantering with each other. As we step out of the arena, some part of me still can’t believe this is real, or that this is my life now. I’ve wanted this for so long—literally most of my life—so to be heading out for drinks with a team of some of the best players in the NHL feels surreal. I don’t want to let it go to my head, but it feels like one night, I went to sleep as a no-name rookie, and the next morning I woke up a superstar.

Beaming, I climb on my bike and rev the engine. It’s loud—always has been—and it draws a few glances, just like it did the first time I rolled into the lot. A couple of the guys glance over as they get in their cars, but Noah’s already pulling out, so I decide to follow him over to the bar. I’ve been before, but I don’t fully remember where it is or how to get there from the arena, so better safe than sorry.

Noah parks around the back of the building, but I leave my bike in one of the designated spots for motorcycles closer to the door. I’m locking up my helmet in the under-seat storage when Noah walks up, followed by the rest of the team.

He nods at the bike, smirking. “Still making a scene with this thing, huh?”

“Always,” I answer, grinning.

Theo lingers by the bike, running a hand over the handlebars. “Man, I need to get one of these.”

I chuckle. “You thinking about it?”

“Hell yeah.” He tilts his head. “You ever let anyone else take it for a spin?”

I snort. “After seeing how you play? No way. You’re reckless enough on the ice. I’m not giving you the chance to wipe out on my bike too.”

The guys burst into laughter, and Theo shakes his head, grinning. “You asshole.”

I laugh along with them. I’m just giving him a hard time, but the truth is, my bike is my baby. There aren’t a lot of people I would let ride it.

Except…

An image of Hannah pressed against my bike, pinned between its metal and me, flashes through my mind. But as quickly as it surfaces, I brush it away. The last thing either of us needs is for me to blab to one of my teammates about what’s going on between us.

I follow the guys into the bar, and a small group of women are already waiting for us in the lobby. I haven’t met them all yet, but as the guys start to pair up with them, it’s pretty easy to figure out who’s attached to whom.

While Theo’s telling the hostess how many people we have, Noah steps up with a beautiful woman whose blonde hair tumbles across her shoulders. I recognize her right away from the team’s PR. His wife Margo.

“I’m glad you came out with the team,” Margo says with a warm smile as she greets me. “Welcome to the Aces family.”

“Thanks, and thanks for everything you do to make us look good out there.”

She waves that away. “No need to thank me. I’m just doing my job.”

“But speaking of, when are we going to get you into a PR spot?” Noah asks, and I feel my insides twist. Being out on the ice in front of hundreds of adoring fans is one thing, but I’m not sure I’m ready to make a total clown of myself for the whole internet to see. My captain chuckles when I don’t answer. “Well, no rush. We’ll ease you into it.”

Theo overhears and laughs at Noah’s phrasing until the lithe woman with wavy dark hair who’s holding his hand slaps his shoulder lightly.

“What? It was funny.”

She rolls her eyes fondly, kisses him, then turns to me. “I’m Becca, by the way,” she says, offering me her hand. I shake it and smile at her.

“Nice to meet you.”

The hostess comes back to seat us before I get the chance to say hello to the woman who Sawyer is clearly dating. But I end up seated between Grant and Sawyer at the table anyway, so I introduce myself to Sawyer’s girl.

“I’m Violet,” she says, shooting me a friendly smile. “Reese’s sister.”

“I should’ve figured that out faster on my own. I can definitely see the family resemblance,” I tell her as my eyes bounce back and forth between her and Reese.

She laughs wryly. “Yeah, we get that a lot.”

“Did you guys get a sitter tonight?” Margo asks her, and Sawyer nods.

“Yeah, Jake’s at home. I thought about inviting him, but I figured we might get too rowdy for a little kid to be around.”

“I hope I get to meet him next time then,” I tell Sawyer, who smiles at me.

“Oh, you will,” Violet puts in. “Jake won’t stop asking me about you. He’s convinced he’s the Aces’ number one fan, so a new teammate is a big deal for him.”

“That’s cute. I already like him.”

The conversation breaks as our waitress makes the rounds taking everyone’s drink orders, and the drinks barely make it to the table before a song I don’t recognize starts playing and everyone in the bar gets fired up. Those who are coupled up head to the small dance floor toward the back of the bar to dance, leaving me and Grant at the table alone.

“I’m glad I don’t have all of this crap to distract me from my game,” Grant grumbles before he takes a swig from his glass bottle of beer. “That’s all love is, a distraction.”

I sip my beer too, watching the couples dance—or what they probably think passes for dancing. Then I turn back to Grant. “I don’t know about that. It doesn’t seem to be hurting any of their games.”

Grant just grunts, which I’ve heard is his default mode of communication, so I spin back to watching the dance floor. I definitely don’t share Grant’s outlook, but watching Reese, Theo, Sawyer, and Noah hanging out with their women, and seeing how head-over-heels they are for each other, really makes me miss Hannah.

God, I wish she was here.

It’s not like we’d be able to dance together if she was, and I’m not delusional enough to think for a second that she’d ever agree to hang out with us like this in the first place—her dad definitely wouldn’t approve, and it would just be a ticking time bomb for giving away what’s going on between us—but you can’t blame a guy for dreaming.

Still, thinking about it makes me reach in my pocket for my phone. Maybe she can’t physically be here, but that doesn’t mean I can’t include her. I snap a quick picture of the three couples on the dance floor and tap to attach it to a message to her.

ME: This is how my night is going. What about yours?

I tap to send the message and wait for the status indicator to switch over to “read” almost instantly, like it does pretty much every time I text Hannah now, but it doesn’t. Disappointed, I set my phone on the table and tap the screen periodically to keep it from turning off so I don’t miss her response. I’ve just finished my beer when my phone finally buzzes.

HANNAH: Sorry, I’m just now leaving a yoga class. Didn’t see your text until I got outside. But I feel like I should be apologizing just as much for you being subjected to… whatever the hell is happening in that picture.

A smirk splits my face, and my chest tightens when I realize her humor is making me wish she was here even more than I already was. The song is winding down and some of the people who were dancing are starting to stream back to their seats, but I can’t peel my eyes off the screen.

ME: You mean you aren’t wishing you were here suffering with me?

HANNAH: I’m kinky, but I’m not a masochist.

My grip tightens on my phone, and I tilt the screen away from the rest of the table as some of the team sinks back to their seats. I don’t really care if they know I’m texting with someone, but I don’t want them knowing who. And I damn sure don’t want them to see the text that just came through, or the one I’m already thinking about sending back.

ME: You sure about that? The way you like your hair pulled says otherwise.

The three dots indicating she’s typing appear and vanish on the screen several times. I picture her with her phone in her hand, furiously typing and deleting her response. And I can practically hear her at war with herself in her mind so I decide to ramp it up a little more.

ME: What did you wear to class tonight?

The dots appear and vanish again, and I feel my heart pounding in my throat while I wait for an answer.

HANNAH: Can anyone see your phone screen?

Fuck, is she about to do what I think she is?

ME: I don’t think so, but give me a second.

I push back from the table a bit, trying to be inconspicuous about putting more distance between myself and everyone else just in case. I don’t know where this conversation is going, but based on the tone, I have a few guesses. And I’m not bothered by any of that, but I definitely don’t want an audience.

It takes a few seconds of unbearable tension and staring at my screen before my phone buzzes in my hand. A picture appears. It’s a selfie of Hannah standing in front of one of the tall mirrors at the studio. Her head is cut off in the picture, and I’m sure that was on purpose, but she still looks amazing in the hot pink workout top and body-hugging black yoga pants she’s wearing.

I recognize it instantly—because I haven’t been able to stop staring at her in any of her outfits, but especially this one.

Fuck, I’m completely head over heels obsessed with this woman .

ME: You look great, but I think you’d look even better without any of that on.

HANNAH: Then I guess there’s only one way to find out.

My heart races and my pants tighten as my cock hardens. If I weren’t supposed to be hanging out with the guys right now, I absolutely would have torn out of here already and sped right to her apartment. But I don’t want to duck out on them now.

ME: I need to see you tonight.

HANNAH: Me too. Will you come over later?

My fingers fly across the screen, typing out a message and sending it before I even stop to think twice about it.

ME: Hell, yes. And when I get there, I want you lying on the bed waiting for me, completely naked.

HANNAH: Oh god… what else?

ME: I want your legs spread and your fingers parting your pussy lips so I can see just how fucking wet you are for me. And your other hand playing with your nipples.

HANNAH: There will be a key hidden under the mat outside. Let yourself in. I’ll be there, just like you asked.

HANNAH: But you’d better hurry, or I might just finish myself off before you get here.

Heat scorches through my veins. “ Merde ,” I curse.

Grant glances up at that, but I don’t want to answer any awkward questions right now, so I shove my phone in my pocket and push back from the table. “Sorry, but something came up that I really need to take care of.”

I yank out my wallet and throw some cash down on the table to cover the cost of my beer, and before anyone can ask what’s going on, I tear out of the bar and jump on my bike. It roars to life between my legs, and the vibration against my hard cock is making me even fucking crazier than I already am. I tear out of the parking lot and speed to Hannah’s apartment, and it’s amazing that I don’t get pulled over on the way.

I park on the curb and hurry to the front door. Just like she said, there’s a welcome mat that I never noticed before, so I peel it up by one corner and find a key. Beaming, I slide the key into the lock and open the door with a creak. The lights are off in the apartment, but I hear a soft moan trail out from her bedroom toward the back and step quietly toward it.

When I round the corner into her bedroom, the bedside lamp spills soft, diffused light over Hannah splayed out on her back on her bed, her legs spread just like I asked. Her pussy is so wet it glistens in the light, and when she uses two fingers to part her lips for me, the sound of her wetness pulls a groan out of my throat.

She starts to work her clit slowly, her head tossing and turning on the bed, and I can’t fucking take it anymore. I shuck my clothes and pull another condom from my wallet to roll it on before I crawl onto the bed, hovering over her. When my lips find hers, I kiss her and she moans into my mouth as the head of my cock grazes her slick entrance.

“I need you,” she whispers, digging her fingertips into the muscles of my back.

“I need you too,” I growl back and push into her, turning her breathing into a sharp exhale of pleasure. She clenches around me, squeezing me tight, and I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

Because it’s perfect. Every fucking time.