Page 38

Chapter 38

Declan

I can barely believe my ears, but I’m fucking ecstatic to hear the words that just came out of my mother’s mouth. My eyes shoot to Hannah’s, who rewards me with a smile that could light up the darkest corners of the universe. I wasn’t trying to put her up to anything, and I don’t know what she said to my mom to get her to change her mind, but I’m beyond grateful—and all I want to do is plant my lips on Hannah’s soft mouth to show her just how much this means to me.

But I can’t. Not here, not in front of my mother and the rest of the team… and certainly not with Dunaway watching.

Still, when my eyes meet Hannah’s again, something passes between us, an electric current of unspoken promises, but neither of us says anything or makes a move until my mother clears her throat.

“I’m getting a little thirsty, so I think I’m going to go get a soda from the concessions,” she says. “Do either of you want anything?”

“I’m okay, but thanks. And be careful,” I tell her, and she pats my hand affectionately.

“I’m a big girl. I think I can handle the concession stand,” she says and winks at me before she walks away, leaving me alone with Hannah.

My hand instinctively reaches for Hannah’s, but I force myself to stop. The desire to touch her is so overwhelming that it feels like a magnetic pull drawing me toward her. She looks so damn good in my jersey, and I’m so grateful for whatever she said to my mother that it’s easy to forget where we are and how many people are around us.

I’m dying to know what they talked about, because this is a huge shift.

I stick my hands in my pockets to keep myself from touching her. There will be plenty of time for that later when we’re alone again. “So what did you say to my mom?”

Hannah chuckles and shrugs. “Nothing too special, honestly. She mentioned that you were trying to talk her into moving here, and I told her that it’s because you miss her. And that Denver’s a nice place to live.”

“That’s all it took?” I ask, arching one eyebrow.

“That’s it.”

“Wow. Well, thanks. Seriously. I didn’t think she’d ever say yes, but maybe she just needed someone with a more persuasive tongue.”

Hannah’s lips twitch upward, and she drops her voice to whisper, “And here I thought you were the one with the persuasive tongue.”

My entire body ignites at her words, heat surging through my veins like wildfire, but I don’t get the chance to say or do anything else before Coach Dunaway’s whistle blares again, reminding me that there are more kids waiting for a trip around the ice.

“Hold that thought,” I tell her with a heated glance, then skate back to the line of kids.

The next hour passes in a blur of small skaters and excited faces. I do my best to give each kid a memorable experience, but my mind keeps drifting back to Hannah watching from the sidelines. Every few minutes, I steal a glance her way, catching her watching me with those gorgeous blue and green eyes that always seem to see right through me.

After half a dozen kids, my body is on autopilot—lift, skate, spin, high-five, repeat—while my thoughts remain firmly fixed on the woman wearing my jersey.

Just as I’m thinking I might be done for the evening, the crowd thins, and I realize a little boy is standing and waiting all by himself. I have no idea where his parents are until a woman with straight black hair skates up next to us. I smile at her, thinking she’s about to introduce her son to me, but instead she jabs a hand out for me to shake.

“Hi, I’m Jessica.”

I stare at her for a second, not really understanding what’s going on here. None of the other parents have introduced themselves to me like this, but I shake her hand anyway and wait for her to tell me her boy’s name. Instead, she keeps staring at me until finally I catch on to what she’s subtly hinting at. The kid isn’t here to skate—she is.

“Sorry,” I say with a bemused chuckle. “I just assumed it was the little guy who wanted to meet me.”

“Oh, we’re both big fans,” she says with a broad smile. “But he already got to skate with one your teammates, so I figured, why don’t I take a turn? I’ve always loved ice skating. And it sure doesn’t hurt that you’re so handsome.”

She bats her eyelashes a little as she says that last part, and warning lights flash in my head.

Is she one of those puck bunnies the guys warned me about?

I’ve been on the team less than a season, so I haven’t had any women throw themselves at me like this yet. Not that I’d be interested anyway—there’s only one woman I want. My jaw tightens as I shift into professional mode. I smile with practiced politeness and focus my attention back on the woman.

“Nice to meet you, Jessica,” I tell her with the same detached courtesy I’d use at a team press conference and gesture out at the ice. “So I’m assuming you know how to skate already?”

Jessica beams at me with a flirty twinkle in her eye.

“You could say that,” she says and pulls her lip between her teeth suggestively. I wince, because that is not the kind of message I was trying to send her. I keep my expression neutral, determined not to encourage whatever game she’s playing.

The sooner I get this over, the better. This is part of the job. Just another obligation.

“Great. Then let’s take a quick spin around the ice,” I say and hesitate for longer than I probably should before I finally offer my arm to her.

Jessica loops her arm through mine and leans in close to me as we set out together. She’s clearly skated before because she’s way more graceful at it than the kids have been, but I still think it’s fucking weird that she didn’t just let her son enjoy a little more time on the ice. Poor kid.

I maintain a cool distance, keeping my movements efficient and professional. Every attempt she makes to press closer to me is met with subtle resistance, my body language clear. I’m not remotely interested in this woman, and my thoughts are a thousand miles from her—or more accurately, about fifty feet away where Hannah stands near the edge of the rink.

Jessica’s voice breaks into my thoughts as we make a turn at the far end of the rink. “So how are you liking Denver so far?”

“It’s great,” I reply automatically, keeping my answer short.

“I could show you around sometime,” she suggests brightly. “There are some places only locals know about.”

I frown, shaking my head. “Uh, thanks, but the team’s been pretty good about showing me the important spots.”

I don’t want to be rude, but this woman is a lot . I can’t wait for this lap to end, so I just keep skating and deliberately avoid making eye contact with her until we finally circle back to the starting line.

“Your skating is almost as good as your looks,” she comments in a flirtatious tone as we slow to a stop by her son.

My face flames, and I clear my throat, rubbing a hand over the back of my neck.

“Thanks for coming out tonight,” I say, ignoring her comment. “It’s for a good cause, so we appreciate it. I hope your son had fun too.”

I give her a firm nod, then move to skate away. But before I can, Jessica reaches out and puts her hand on my forearm to stop me.

“We had a great time. But I’d have an even better night if you called me when you’re done,” she purrs quietly.

Her manicured fingers pull a torn piece of paper with a phone number and her name scribbled on it from her back pocket, and she holds it out to me. I stare at it, my eyes going wide.

“Uh, sorry,” I blurt out, holding up my hands. “But I’m not interested. I’m already taken.”

“Oh.” Jessica’s smile falters. “I… didn’t know that. This is so embarrassing, I’m sorry. Excuse me.” She quickly gathers her son before hurrying away, tucking the rejected number into her pocket as she leaves.

I exhale slowly, puffing out my cheeks as I watch her go. As I turn to see who might be next in line, I spot Hannah striding across the ice directly toward me, her eyes locked on mine. My heart lurches as it hits me in a rush that she might’ve overheard at least part of that exchange.

“I should’ve known some people would use a charity event as an excuse to hit on the players,” she says when she reaches me, cocking an eyebrow.

I grimace. “I guess I should’ve seen it coming too. But I didn’t take her number, hummingbird.”

“I know.” She gives me a look I can’t quite interpret, although I wish like hell that I could. “Because you’re already taken.”

My heart thumbs against my ribs. So she did hear that part. “Listen, I wasn’t trying to pressure you or put a label on anything you’re not ready for, I just?—”

“It’s okay.” Hannah cuts me off, shaking her head. There’s something soft in her expression that catches me off guard. She leans closer, her lips curving upward into a small smile. “I’m glad you didn’t take her number. I would’ve hated for a fight to break out on the ice—although I’m pretty sure I could’ve taken her.”

Her smile blooms into a full-on smirk, and I chuckle.

“Is that why you came over here so fast? In case you had to fight her off.”

She shrugs, two spots of pink appearing high on her cheeks. “No…”

I bark out a laugh, giving her a heated look. “Too late to deny it now, hummingbird. But you know what? I like it when you stake your claim. It’s hot as hell.” My voice drops, turning a little rough as I add, “I wish I could kiss you right now.”

She swallows hard, her eyes shining. “I wish you could too.”

Raw, primal hunger rumbles deep inside me. If we were alone, I’d tear my jersey off her and have my way with her right here and now. Just push her up against the boards and fuck her against them.

“I wish I could do a lot more than that.” But I can’t, so I drop my head a little, keeping enough distance between us to keep things from looking suspicious as I murmur, “You look so fucking hot in my jersey. I want to spread you out and eat you out like a feast while you’re wearing nothing but that. I want to fuck your face while you kneel for me, then fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

Hannah shivers, and a tempting flush rises on her cheeks as her eyes meet mine. “Is that a promise?”

“Fuck yes, it is.”

There’s so much tension swirling between us that I swear I can feel it melting the ice under my skates. Hannah’s eyes never leave mine, and we’re so close I can see her heartbeat throbbing in her neck, pounding so fast it’s amazing she doesn’t pass out. And it takes everything I have not to lower my mouth to her neck to kiss every inch of her beautiful, exposed skin.

Thinking about what I want to do to her, of seeing her splayed out in front of me in nothing but my jersey makes my throat run dry, and the scorching look she’s giving me makes me sure that similarly dirty thoughts are tearing through her mind right now too. But neither of us makes a move because we’re both intensely aware of just how public we are right now.

“I should go,” she whispers, her voice raspy.

My hand instinctively reaches out to stop her, but I catch myself and shove it in my pocket instead. The physical pain of not touching her is almost unbearable. She smiles at me and nods, then turns to skate away.

I hate this. Hate having to let her go.

It takes me right back to that first night we spent together, puts me right back in the fear that I might have to go months without seeing her again. I don’t think that’s going to happen, especially not now that we’re so much closer literally and figuratively, but I still can’t forget the way it felt to go back to the club night after night hoping to see her again—and coming up empty.

This is different, and I know that, but I still hate it. Because the truth is I’m completely head over heels for this woman, and I honestly don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to keep pretending this is all just for fun.