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CHAPTER 23

DECK

THE COUCH WANTS IN

I wanted to go home with Lizzy. But not for the obvious reasons. I wanted to go home with her so I could tell her…something. Could I tell her everything? Did I maybe have to now?

“Yeah,” I said, tightening my grip on her shoulder. “Yeah, I will.”

The cop drove us back to her car, which was parked at the rink, “Thanks,” I told him as he pulled up in front of her sedan, and I slid out and then turned to give Lizzy my hand.

“Any time,” the cop said. “And we’ll follow up with whatever intel we get on who might have been responsible.”

“Sounds good,” I said, suddenly exhausted. Despite my fatigue, however, I knew there was a long night ahead. And not the fun kind of long night. Although, the way Lizzy had been looking at me since the explosion—like she’d really be sad to see me get hurt—maybe there was a chance.

Lizzy drove us to her place, and I thought the whole quiet drive there. Hockey players didn’t get their cars blown up. But you know who did? Princes. Royalty. But only if there was a reason for it. And as far as I knew, there wasn’t one.

We greeted Arnold of the signed gut and proceeded to the eighth floor, where Lizzy lived.

“Pretty snazzy,” I commented, looking around the sleek and modern condo. Really though, it was kind of sad. Everything was perfect. Clean. Uncluttered. There wasn’t a single item on a shelf that indicated who lived here. No photos, no knick-knacks that didn’t look like things the model home designer chose. “You lived here long?”

“No, not really,” she said. Lizzy stood in the center of the living room, looking around as if she’d never been here before either. “I guess it’s a little…unfinished.”

“It’s nice though,” I said, not wanting to be rude.

Lizzy blew out a rough breath and then moved into the kitchen, just beyond a long black counter. “I don’t have any pink wine. Hope Scotch will be okay.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

She carried two tumblers over and put the bottle on the low coffee table, then sat on the long white leather couch. I took a seat next to her.

“I need to tell you?—”

“There’s something I should?—”

We spoke at once.

“Ah, you first.”

“No, you go first,” she said. “I insist.”

Gah. Should I tell her? Could I really? Would it blow everything I’d worked for over the last decade or more? But at this point, it felt like my cover had been literally blown when my car had exploded.

I swallowed most of my drink, then turned to look into Lizzy’s wide eyes. “The thing is… I’m not quite who everyone thinks I am.”

She just stared, waiting.

“So, I mean, like, I am. But I’m more than that.”

She nodded, and then Lizzy’s eyes found mine, and there was so much warmth and acceptance in them that it stopped me in my tracks. I wondered if that would all disappear once I told her I’d been lying to her this whole time.

I hadn’t felt this way about anyone in a long time—maybe ever.

Like she was my equal. Like she was my second half. Like she was the puzzle piece I didn’t even know I’d been missing.

But I needed to tell her the truth. It seemed like it was literally life or death at this point. And if there had been an attempt on my life, what did that mean for Mom and Dad? For Lambert? For the entire kingdom?

I’d had a good run. I guessed my time was up. “Thing is, I just… I need to tell you who I really am.”

I took a breath, ready to tell her everything, but Lizzy interrupted. “Declan, I know exactly who you are.” Between the look in her eyes and the way her gaze drifted from mine to my lips and back up again, her own mouth parting slightly, I couldn’t stop what happened next.

I closed the space between us, pausing just long enough to give her time to pull away if that was what she wanted. But Lizzy didn’t hesitate. Our mouths crashed together, and within moments, we were a tangle of arms, moans, and heavy breaths that ratcheted my desire for her beyond anything I’d thought possible.

We fused together on the length of Lizzy’s pristine white leather couch. Every time I shifted my weight, the stiff leather gave an obnoxious squeak. As things escalated between us, the couch seemed to participate—hell, it even seemed to accelerate its efforts.

I managed to remove my shirt, and Lizzy’s hands explored every inch of my torso, her gasps and moans sending a thrill through me as my own hands mapped the curves I’d been desperate to touch since the first time I saw her. The couch groaned beneath us, the squeaks turning into something closer to protests.

“Lizzy, do you have a bed?”

“Yes, Declan. I have a bed.” Her words were spoken between pants, our hands never stopping.

“Could we go there?” The couch let out another long squeak as I shifted my knee.

Lizzy didn’t answer with words. Instead, she practically lifted me off the couch, nearly carrying me down the hall to the open doorway beyond, where an enormous bed waited.

“Lie down,” I suggested.

But Lizzy, it turned out, was not the compliant type. “Take off your pants,” she said.

I, for one, didn’t mind being ordered around. Especially in this context. I complied. “Okay, but what about your pants?”

A wicked smile crossed Lizzy’s lips, and some instinct took over—I kissed it. I kissed the smile I’d been wanting to kiss since the first day I saw her.

And kissing Lizzy? It was everything I thought it would be. And more. Kissing Lizzy was like every day being your birthday, topped off with cotton candy, ice cream, all the scotch you could drink, and zero regrets.

I wanted Lizzy more than I had ever wanted anything. It occurred to me that I liked her as much as I liked hockey. And that was saying something.

Lizzy refused to lie down. Instead, she spun me and then climbed me, pushing me back onto the massive mattress, which, by the way, seemed even bigger than my own California king.

I came up for air, glancing around. “California king?” I stretched my arms, testing my wingspan to see if it reached both sides. “I mean, it’s really big.”

Lizzy sat up and gave me a look that made me realize discussing the size of the bed was probably not what we should be doing at this moment. But she humored me anyway, because Lizzy liked me. “It’s an Alaskan king, if you must know.”

I raised a brow. “But you’re a tiny person.” Lizzy did not appear to enjoy being called tiny. I swear she started flexing some of the muscles in her chest and arms, because suddenly, she looked far more intimidating straddling my naked body than she had a moment before.

“Those are fighting words,” Lizzy growled. Then she attacked again. The woman was everywhere. And I was in heaven.

As a hockey player, I’d had my fair share of meaningless hookups. Women always seemed to enjoy the mystique of pro athletes. I didn’t really understand it, but as long as it worked to my advantage, I wasn’t going to argue. Lizzy, however, didn’t seem the least bit fazed by my status.

In fact, she seemed hell-bent on subduing me. Dominating me. Teaching me a lesson.

I was here for all of it.