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sixteen

. . .

[Declan]

With my face buried into the crook of her neck, I inhale her shower-fresh, fallen-snow scent. Memories flood my head while my body comes down from the high of this moment.

I came so hard I fucking saw stars.

And some primal urge has me wanting to cup her core and prevent my seed from dribbling free.

Fighting the animalistic urge, I hold her tighter, her back plastered to my front, until I’m certain she won’t disappear. That I haven’t dreamed up this fantasy.

India Baker is in my arms again.

With a shaky hand, I reach for her body wash, squirt some in my palm and lather up. Starting at her shoulders, I massage more than wash her, taking my time to rub her upper arms before circling her breasts.

“I’m going to have the cleanest breasts in all womankind,” she teases.

That mouth . God, have I missed her .

“I’m nothing if not thorough,” I state.

She softly chuckles. The rumble of her body ripples against mine as I keep her close, continuing to work over her body, gentling my strokes over her hips.

“I left a mark.” My brows pinch when I notice the red spots against her hips.

She tilts her head and brushes at her skin. “Maybe I’ll get a tattoo there.”

I laugh, though somberly. What will she think when she sees the tattoo I have?

With that thought, I struggle to right my pants. They’re ruined from the water, but I don’t remove them. Instead, I concentrate on her by swiping delicately between her legs and massaging her inner thighs.

India is still fit with a tad more meat to her body than I remember. The fullness suits her. The roundness of her hips. The tension in her legs. She’s a perfect eleven out of ten.

Suddenly, she spins in my arms. “When did you get in?”

“The team landed roughly two hours ago.” I pause. “What are you doing here?”

“I should ask you the same thing.” She arches a teasing brow as her hands slip down my chest to the waistband of my boxer briefs.

“Isaiah said I could use the house.” He told me if I needed some space, wanted time alone, perhaps needed some clarity, I could crash here. As I’ve been all mixed up about India this seemed like the perfect place for perspective.

“Hmm.” India’s lids lower as she tugs at my pants, shoving them down my hips.

“And you . . .” I tip up her chin, wanting her to look me in the eye and explain her unexpected presence.

“The Den is televising several away games this season. Colorado is one of our road trips.”

How did I not know this? Then again, I don’t keep up with the streaming service’s schedule other than when I’m needed.

“So, you’ll be here for the next three nights?” Including tonight.

“I’m taking a late flight on Thursday because we have a day off.”

The ESP Awards are that night in Hollywood and one of our own will be honored there, but attendance isn’t required for anyone else on the team or the coaches.

My first thought, contemplating changing my flight from late night Wednesday to accompany her on Thursday.

When her hand swipes over my damp hair, I bring my gaze to her silvery eyes. Leaning forward, I kiss the tip of her nose.

“Hey,” I whisper, feeling like I didn’t properly greet her. I scared her. She screamed. Then, I kissed her, and now, we are here, staring at one another.

She winks, breaking the tension. “Hiya, handsome.”

Anxiety creeps up on me that maybe I rushed this moment.

We should have talked.

But India has a squirt of body wash in her hand, and she’s spreading it over my chest, combing her fingers through the smattering of hair on my pecs.

“This is new,” she hums in appreciation.

I had chest hair when I was younger but shaving it off was a thing then. Now, I could care less about its presence, and if she likes it, it stays.

Her delicate but strong hands work over my shoulders, squeezing my biceps and stroking down my forearms. She momentarily flattens our hands together and links our fingers.

The sensation is soothing, intimate.

When her hands hook into the sides of my pants which are already relatively low on my hips, I suck in a breath, causing my abs to contract.

India arches a brow before dropping her gaze and lowering my pants to the shower floor. Crouched in front of me, she glances up, catching her eyes on the space to the left of my cock.

“This is new, too,” she whispers, placing her hand on my hip and stroking her thumb over my pelvic bone.

Over the ink that is a mix of falling snowflakes and flaming trees, symbolizing a wildfire scented by snow.

Her gaze fixates on the design that covers a good portion of my pelvic region, stretching down my upper thigh and up my abs a bit.

Lifting her eyes, she leans forward and presses a tender kiss to the hard bone covered in ink.

I suck in another breath.

“Is this for me?”

I don’t answer. My tongue is swollen because she’s running her nose against the area, dragging it in a way that’s almost ticklish. Then she kisses the tip of my dick which is quickly coming back to life.

“India,” I warn, knowing realistically I need more time to recover from what we just did.

Dismissing me like the vixen she is, she stands, squirts more body wash into her hands and strokes over my hips, along my dick, and between my legs.

I lean back against the steam-coated wall and step out of the pants pooled at my ankles. Spreading my thighs, I allow her to play as I stiffen and lengthen again.

“What are you doing to me?” I glance down, watching her hands pump and squeeze, gentle but firm, as the soap rinses away.

“I’m going to take care of you.” Her voice is pure seduction. Perhaps she’s been as wound as me, pent up and desperate to be unleashed .

To be knocked out of the park and then tossed back into the game.

Within minutes, I’m hard but not hard enough. India doesn’t care. She kisses the tip, peppers the length of my shaft with more, then returns to the top and opens wide.

“Wildfire,” I ground out, cursing her while loving it. I tip back my head, sucking in a deep breath until the warmth of her mouth surrounds me.

Unable to look away, I bow my head, watching as she worships my cock. I brush my fingertips along her cheek and fist as much of her thick mane in my hand as I can gather.

You’re going to break me . She’ll tear me in two and I won’t be whole again, not that I’m certain I’ve ever been whole without her.

Nothing has ever felt like this feels. I’d thought maybe the memories of her were enhanced because we’d been so much younger.

But with her lips around my cock and her soft sounds of enjoyment, I know nothing ever will feel like what it feels like now. With her.

“Get up here,” I demand, wanting to please her as much as she’s teasing me.

With her lids raised, she swipes down my shaft, giving it a playful peck on the tip before she stands. The tile has made little indents on her knees, and I don’t like that she might be hurt.

Her hand cups my chin bringing my gaze to her face.

“Bed?” She raises a brow. “We don’t even have to sneak into the room.”

The reminder brings both a chuckle and concern.

“What are we doing?” I whisper, brushing back her hair, watching my fingers comb through the dark tangles before meeting her eyes again.

“We’re giving ourselves three nights.” She pauses. “My favorite number.”

“That’s my—” I stop myself when I notice something on the inside of her left wrist. A number inked on her skin right over her pulse point. I haven’t ever noticed it because she wears a watch when she’s reporting.

Three. My number.

When our eyes meet again, only a second passes before our mouths reconnect.

Then I’m reaching for the shower handle, shutting off the water, and picking her up by the backs of her thighs.

She wraps her legs around my hips, and I carry her to her old bedroom, where we play another round of memories and dreams.