The pressure builds lower, spreading through every inch of me until I'm shaking beneath him.
"Declan—please—"
He hitches my leg higher, angle changing just enough to hit that spot that has my vision sparking white. "Let go for me."
I shatter first, crying out his name into the quiet hotel room, my pussy clenching around him so tight he curses against my ear.
"Fuck,Josie—gonna come—"
"Inside me again." I grip his face, force his eyes to mine. "Stay inside me, Declan."
He groans like the words physically wreck him, hips stuttering once, twice, before he buries himself deep. He comes with a deepgroanagainst my mouth, filling me exactly the way I asked.
"Oh…Fuck," I moan, feeling him pulse as hot, silky warmth floods me.
We stay tangled like that, foreheads pressed together, both of us trembling, chocolate wrappers crushed somewhere beneath the sheets.
"Four weeks," I whisper eventually, tracing the line of his jaw.
"What?"
"Portland Thunder. Home game. I circled it in on my calendar." I press a kiss to his mouth. "I'm going to sell out that arena, Declan Morrison. Every single seat. I'm going to prove to everyone I can do it."
Especially my mother.
He tips my chin up, blue eyes soft, wrecked, completely mine. "I have absolutely no doubt about that, sweetheart."
Chapter 16
Declan
I'm half into my gear, shoulder pads still hanging off one arm, preparing for Game Two on the road when my phone buzzes against the bench for the fourth goddamn time in ten minutes.
"Fuck off," I hiss without looking at it.
I don't have to. I already know the name sitting on that screen, glowing up at me like a bad omen.
DAD.
Missed call. Missed call. Missed call. Missed call.
I swipe it face-down without breaking stride, the way you'd flip over a card in Vegas that you already know is bad news.
Two stalls down, Mason's staring at his own phone with the exact same expression. Thank Christ he does the same thing and swipes it away too.
Beck, though. Beck's staring at his screen like it's a puzzle he's trying to solve.
"He's called me like six times," Beck says, frowning down at the display. "Should I just... I don't know, give him a quick buzz? Get it over with before puck drop?"
"No," Mason and I say at the exact same time.
Beck blinks between us. "Jesus. Okay. Didn't realize that was a two-person veto situation."
"It's not a good time," I say, tugging my jersey over my pads, buying myself a few extra seconds where I don't have to look at either of my brothers. "We've got a game."
"It's never a good time with you lately," Beck mutters, but he pockets the phone anyway.
Here's the thing neither of them knows.
