Chapter Seventy-One
Cooper
My body still thinks I’m in his office. My hands on him, his mouth on me. The sound of his voice when he said he never stopped loving me like the words themselves tasted of blood and honey.
I barely even remember the elevator ride to my floor. One minute, I’m telling Declan I love him, getting my ass ravished by an absolute pro, and the next, I’m staring at my mess of a hotel room. It looks like my brain does right now—scattered and unsettled.
Suddenly nauseous at how chaotic everything is, I start cleaning without really deciding to—scooping up the laundry, tossing bottles into the trash, yanking the duvet into something that vaguely resembles made. It’s pointless, but my hands won’t stop moving, needing a distraction from my spiraling.
He will come around; I know he will. Declan doesn’t do dramatic. He’s logical. He pulls things apart until they’re neat and safe and make sense. He doesn’t do angry, either. Not with me. Or at least he didn’t. He just needs to think, that’s all.
My shirt still sticks to my skin under my hoodie, the memory of his cum streaking warm down my back, his fingers smearing it into me like he wanted to brand me. It sends spikes of hot adrenaline through my veins, and my cock twitches in my pants.
“Jesus,” I mutter, dragging a hand over my face.
I need a shower. Hot or cold, I don’t care.
Stumbling into the bathroom and cranking it on, steam fogs up the mirror as I strip. The second the water hits me, my brain creates a conversation that hasn’t even happened yet. One side, I can already hear in Declan’s voice. His clear, calm, far-too-logical-for-his-own-good voice.
This was a mistake.
We can’t do this.
Loving you isn’t enough.
“No,” I growl under the spray, water plastering my hair to my head as each imagined response makes me mad. “No. You don’t get to say that. Not this time.”
Because I’m here. I’m not letting him try to push this down because he’s scared that he’s going to lose me again. It might have taken me far too long to get my head out of my ass, but it’s out. I can see. I’ll chase him down if I have to.
My palm slaps the faucet, killing the water, and I shove the curtain aside, grabbing the nearest towel.
Knotting it low on my hips, I stalk back into the bedroom, dripping and determined as I locate my suitcase, tossing clothes out haphazardly.
My pulse is still sprinting, but at least the dread and panic have shifted into something focused.
I will make him see that I’m serious about him. About us. How I’ll do that, I have no damn clue. But isn’t that what Declan loved about me in the first place? That I won’t take no for an answer?
A gentle, hesitant knock cuts through my thoughts, three quick taps in succession. My stomach drops and lurches at the same time, the t-shirt in my hand falling to the floor as I stare at the door. Then I move fast, fingers catching on the handle before I wrench it open.
Declan stands in the hallway, hands jammed deep in his pockets, eyes dark, serious, and the sight of me standing in only a towel seems to knock something loose inside him.
“Hey,” he croaks, gaze dropping down my chest before snapping back to my face, and I can see that wall of steel start to build, the words he undoubtedly rehearsed on his way over here pushing behind his teeth. “Cooper, I—”
I don’t let him say any more. Grabbing the front of his coat, I haul him inside, my mouth finding his, teeth clashing. The door swings shut behind him, the dull thud resounding through my bones, his groan cracking through his tension, and for one awful heartbeat, I think he’s going to pull away.
But then his hands band around my back, pressing me to him, the chill from his jacket sending goosebumps across my skin.
This kiss is nothing like the one in his office, full of anger and history and years of swallowed words.
This one is terrified, full of longing, a fight between giving in and walking away.
I can feel him trying to fight it, his restraint pushing at the seams, and I don’t give him a choice but to surrender, pouring everything into it.
I grip his hair, tugging slightly, angling his mouth where I want it.
He opens for me, his body responding in a way I’m almost positive his brain is telling him not to.
He breaks our connection for a beat as I push the jacket from his shoulders, letting it thud to the floor, before his forehead drops to mine, eyes squeezed tight.
“Cooper,” he whispers, and I can hear the rest of his sentence behind my name. We need to talk. This isn’t smart. We can’t do this.
“Don’t,” I murmur, kissing his jaw, keeping him close, the beard tickling my lips. “If you came here to tell me this is a mistake. You’re wrong. I won’t let you pull away, Declan. Not this time.”
“It matters,” he says, fear, want, exhaustion, hope, all tangled together in his gaze.
“So does this.” My hand slips under his shirt, fingers finding the warm, solid line of his waist. Pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, I slide my hands upwards, prompting him to lift his arms, letting me peel the worn cotton from him and dropping it to the floor.
“I know what you’re thinking,” I murmur against him as I move to his neck, nipping gently.
“You’re trying to protect yourself, trying to make it hurt less when I go. ”
“You will go,” he says, voice rough, head lolling to the side as I lick the shell of his ear.
“Eventually,” I admit, because lying would be worse. “But not tonight.”
My lips kiss the spot on his jaw, the place where his beard now covers his scar, the one I always loved. Swallowing hard, his hands finally touch me, his fingers digging into my lower back.
“I’m here,” I tell him, kissing my way back up and catching his bottom lip in mine. “Right now, I’m here. With you. Not on stage. Not in some other state. Here.”
“Coop…”
Once more, I steal his words, licking into his mouth, tasting his groan as I deepen the kiss, until his shoulders relax, the space between us disappearing.
I skim down his arms, over thick muscle, relishing the way his body trembles under my touch.
He’s still built like he used to be, but there’s more weight on him now, not bulked for show.
Hockey strength that never really left, functional strength, the kind that doesn’t just go because we got older.
Still kissing him like I’ve got something to prove—which, I guess I do—I walk us backward toward the bed, the towel around my waist loosening enough that it slips, brushing against my thighs, the cool air hitting my skin and making me shiver.
He growls a deep, gravelly sound from the back of his throat before his palm cracks down hard on my ass.
Gasping, my hips jerk forward, the sting hot before it fades into pleasure.
He grabs me, hauling me up like I weigh nothing, the scrape of his jeans over the underside of my thighs, my balls, my cock, that too-rough friction sending a shock straight through me as I moan. It bites, but I want more of it.
Landing on the bed, breath knocked out of me, my pulse thunders at the unadulterated lust shining from his eyes as I squirm. His gaze never leaves me as he strips out of his jeans, that mouth-watering cock hard like steel between his legs.
“Lube?”
I lift a hand, pointing vaguely toward my suitcase.
He’s gone and back within seconds, but not before I get an eyeful.
That ass has no right looking that good.
All taut muscle, tight and perfect, like the years apart have only made it more unreal.
I groan, rolling my lower lip between my teeth, hand fisting the base of my cock.
“Feet on the bed,” he demands, already slicking up his fingers when he reaches the edge. “Spread your legs for me.”
I obey, going a step further, my hands latching onto the back of my knees and lifting. I hear the harsh exhale as I expose myself to him, the look he gives me one of pure possession. Yes. This is what I want. Possess me, make me yours, always.
His finger presses in, my hole still ready from the tongue-fucking he gave me earlier, but it doesn’t stop my gasp, and my eyes roll into the back of my head. The heel of his palm digs into my thigh as he works me open.
It might have been years, but he still knows exactly how to pull me apart.
He crooks a finger, knuckle-deep, and I nearly sob.
Searing heat and pure want explode through my body, his coaxing of that one spot I’ve only touched a few times myself making me see stars.
I haven’t done this in years, not since him.
I haven’t trusted anyone else to see me, to take me like this.
My cock leaks against my stomach, twitching with every slow, deliberate press until I’m writhing and gasping, so far gone, and it’s only his finger.
“Declan,” I pant, hips rolling to meet his ministrations. “I’m ready. Please, just fuck me. I need to feel you inside me. Now.”
As he pulls out slowly, I whimper at the loss, already aching for him.
He moves over me, breathing hard. “Condom?”
I shake my head, reaching between us to stroke him. “No, nothing. Please. I’m clean, I promise. Just you—”
“So fucking needy.”
There’re no more questions, just blind, unadulterated trust as the cap of the lube pops again, then his hand fists the base of his cock, lining himself up. I feel the blunt pressure of him against me, but he doesn’t rush, doesn’t give me everything at once like I wish he would.
Eleven whole years of missing out on this has made me an inpatient man.
He presses in so goddamn slowly, letting me feel every inch of him, feel the way I relax for him, stretch around him.
“Fuck,” I moan, my fingers clawing at the sheets.
He pushes deeper, inch by inch, until I’m gasping curses into the space between us, barely human sounds falling out of me.
By the time he’s bottomed out, I’m wrecked, shaking under him, stretched to my limit, body clenching around the sheer size of his cock already throbbing.
I can’t breathe, can’t think, only feel him. It’s too much and not nearly enough.
“You okay?” he asks, chest heaving as he looks down at me.
I laugh, breathless and shaky, voice nothing but need. “What are you waiting for? Ruin me, Declan.”
He moves, and even the hint of withdrawal rips a groan from my throat.
The way he thrusts back in makes my whole body jolt, each controlled push of his hips sending heat crawling up my spine.
Choking out his name, I push back into him, chasing more even when I’m already so close, shaking with the need for release.
“You have no idea how good you feel,” he growls, his voice right by my ear. “I’ve wanted this again for so damn long.”
He snaps at the sound I make—deep, buried, feral—the world narrowing to the way he moves inside me, the way he holds me, each drive of his body unraveling me.
Shifting, his arm slides around my waist, pulling me tight against him, mouth on my shoulder, skin flushed and damp, teeth biting in enough to mark, like he’s fighting himself to hold on.
“Coop…” he says, my name like a fucking prayer, the intensity of it slamming through me. Scorching and overwhelming, my body hurtles to the edge before making the leap. I fall apart, shaking and moaning and losing myself as pleasure overtakes me, clenching around him, dragging him down with me.
He groans, his rhythm faltering, hips thrusting up like he’s trying to fuse us together, warmth flooding my hole. We’re gone, lost, trembling, suspended in time with sweat-slicked bodies and aching muscles. All too soon, Declan gently lowers me back and pulls out, flopping next to me.
I tilt my head, watching his chest rise and fall, before leaning over to press a kiss to the spot just beneath his collarbone.
He hums as his fingers brush lazily against my side, before slipping away to the bathroom.
Closing my eyes, I listen to the sound of running water before the bed dips and a warm cloth brushes between my legs.
“You okay?”
“I think you fucking broke me,” I say on an exhale, enjoying the way he gently cleans me.
He laughs, low and warm, moving up, swiping the cloth over my stomach with a care that doesn’t match the way he just ruined me.
“You asked for it,” he says, all matter of fact.
“Damn straight, I did.” Grabbing his arm, I pull him down, tucking myself against his chest. “Give me, like, five minutes, then we’re going again.”
“Aren’t you sore?” His hand cups my ass like he’s about to test that theory.
I shake my head, kissing his pec, right where his heart beats under my lips.
“Not yet, I’m not,” I whisper, a dangerous smile tugging at my lips. “But I want to be.”