Chapter 18 - Declan
DECLAN
First Time
Ivy's message to King sits on my phone like a ticking bomb.
Ivy:
I need to talk to you in person. There's someone else in my life now, and I owe you an honest conversation before this goes any further. Can we meet?
Sitting on the team bus heading to Boston, I stare at it for the hundredth time, my chest tightening with hope. It's been nearly two months since we started our practice date, and she wants to end things with King because of me, Declan.
I should be relieved. This way, she might never find out about my deception. But it's best to confess that I'm King. That’s she's been falling for me all along.
Because Ivy means more to me than any woman ever has. I’ve grown to anticipate her smile. To like the way her lips pout slightly when she’s not backing down. To feel relaxed in her presence.
And I want to make her happy. I want her to fulfill her dreams, to understand that we’re together for real.
Heck, I’m falling for her. Every damned bit of her. And I want to keep falling until both of us are completely besotted with each other.
I need a clear head for the game tomorrow. I’ll tell her after the game.
Boston's skyline appears through the bus windows as we pull into the city. The hotel is one of those upscale places with marble lobbies and staff who greet everyone by name. The team starts dispersing to their rooms, and I linger near the check-in desk until I catch the concierge's attention.
"I need a favor," I say quietly, sliding him two hundred-dollar bills. "Can you make sure Dr. Chandler, the woman traveling with our team, gets the room adjacent to mine?"
His eyes flick to the bill, then to me. He smiles a little.
"Of course, Mr. Hawthorne. Consider it done."
Twenty minutes later, I'm unpacking when I hear movement in the room next door. A soft thud. The sound of a suitcase being set down. Ivy's voice thanking someone, probably the bellhop.
My heart kicks into overdrive.
I pull out my phone and text her.
Declan:
What's your room number?
Ivy:
4127. Why?
Declan:
Look through your peephole.
I step into the hallway, then hear her footsteps approaching the door. Standing directly in front of her room, I wave.
The door flies open.
"What are you doing here?"
She's wearing travel clothes, jeans and a fitting long-sleeved blouse. Her hair is falling straight down her shoulders. She’s wearing no makeup except for a touch of lip gloss that makes me want to kiss it off.
"I arranged it with the concierge." I lean against her doorframe, grinning, and shrug. "I thought you might want a neighbor you actually like."
"Marcus is going to kill you."
"Marcus is three floors down." I lower my voice, saying, "And I don't plan on letting him find out."
Her eyes darken, pupils dilating. "Declan..."
"Let me take you somewhere tonight after team dinner. There's a place I think you'll love."
"What kind of place?"
"Trust me."
She smiles. "Alright."
***
I take her to a bookstore tucked into a side street in Cambridge. The shop is nearly empty at this hour, except for an elderly clerk who barely glances up when we enter. Ivy runs her fingers along book spines as we wander the narrow aisles.
"I used to come here during my undergrad when things got overwhelming," she says.
"What did you read?"
"Fiction, mostly. I read anything that lets me be someone else for a while." She pulls out a worn copy of Jane Eyre. "This was my favorite. Jane was small, plain, and overlooked, but she was fierce. Uncompromising. She refused to settle."
"Like you."
She shakes her head. "I'm not fierce."
"You are. You defended your research fiercely. Do you remember how you challenged me when we met in the therapy room?"
"You were annoying."
"Maybe." I brush away hair tendrils from her face, use the opportunity to trail my fingers down her ear to her neck. "You saw past the bullshit. After, you treated me like a person instead of a brand."
"You're a complicated, infuriating, surprisingly wonderful person."
A warm feeling rumbles in my chest.
"Come back to the hotel with me," I murmur against her ear. "Let me show you how wonderful I can be."
Her breath hitches. "Marcus..."
"He won't know. I promise."
We buy the Jane Eyre. I insist on paying despite her protests. Then we take a taxi back to the hotel. The elevator ride is torture because of the security camera. We maintain careful distance even though all I want is to pin her against the wall and kiss her senseless.
In the hallway outside our rooms, I check both directions before pulling her close.
"Let's go to my room."
"Okay. Mine's still a mess from unpacking."
I unlock my door, and we slip inside.
I've prepared.
The candles I had to bribe housekeeping to bring up flicker on the nightstand.
There's champagne chilling in an ice bucket, the good kind this time, not the cheap swill Riley bought.
The bedding is fresh, the lighting soft.
Through the windows, the city lights sparkle across the night like a thousand diamonds in the dark.
"Declan." Ivy's voice is breathless as she looks around. "When did you do all this?"
"This afternoon while you were with Dr. Logan." I pour two glasses of champagne, handing her one. "I wanted tonight to be special."
"Why?
Because I'm falling in love with you. Because you're ending things with King, which means you're choosing the real me, even if you don't know it yet. Because I want to give you something beautiful before the truth destroys everything.
"Because you're special and you deserve this treatment," I say instead.
We drink, and I watch her take in the room. She sets down her glass and wraps her arms around my neck.
"I've never done this before. I've been too busy chasing after my dreams. But now, I'm finally with someone who matters."
The confession makes affection blossom in my chest.
I kiss her deeply, pouring everything I can't say into the contact. She melts against me, her fingers tangling in my hair, her small body fitting perfectly against mine.
"Let me take care of you," I murmur against her lips. "Let me make this good for you."
"It's already good."
"It's going to be better."
I undress her slowly, memorizing every inch of skin revealed. The curve of her shoulder. The dip of her waist. The way she shivers when I kiss her hip bone.
When she's bare before me, I guide her to the bed, laying her down on those fresh sheets because she's precious. Mine.
"You're beautiful," I tell her, because she needs to hear it.
"I'm..."
"You are." I settle beside her, my hand spanning her ribcage, feeling her heartbeat rabbit-fast beneath my palm. "Don't argue with me about this."
A nervous laugh escapes her. "Okay."
I kiss her again, deeper this time, my hand sliding lower. She's already wet. The discovery makes me groan against her mouth.
My mouth sucks her nipples, my hand kneading her butt until she's moaning incoherently. My fingers slide into her until she calls my name. Then I position myself above her, taking my weight on my forearms.
"I've got you. Tell me if anything hurts or if you want me to stop. Okay?"
"Okay."
I enter her slowly, giving her body time to adjust. She's tight, tense. My fingers caress her breast, so she can focus on the pleasure instead of the pain.
"Breathe," I murmur, pressing kisses to her jaw, her neck, anywhere I can reach. "Just breathe, beautiful."
She does, and I feel her soften around me. I push deeper, inch by careful inch, until I'm fully seated inside her.
The sensation is overwhelming. Like every part of me recognizes every part of her. Like this is what I've been searching for without knowing it.
"Move," she whispers. "Please."
I do, slow and steady, watching her face for signs of discomfort. At first, her face scrunches in pain. Then it relaxes, pleasure building. Her eyes are going dark, her lips parting with small gasps that make my control splinter.
"Is this okay?" I ask.
"Yes. You're perfect."
I'm not. She’ll find out when I tell her about the King deception.
But I try to show her how I feel about her with every thrust, every whispered endearment. I try my best to make her first time something worth remembering.
I shift the angle, finding that spot inside her that makes her back arch off the bed.
Her moans fill the room, a symphony of pleasure that mixes with the sound of skin slapping skin and the wet, obscene squelch of my cock reaming her pussy.
Her nails dig into my shoulders, her legs wrapping around my hips, and I can tell she's close.
"That's it," I encourage. "Let go. I've got you."
When she comes, it's with my name on her lips and her body clenching around me so perfectly I nearly lose control. I work her through it, my movements steady, prolonging her pleasure until she's trembling beneath me.
Then I can’t hold back anymore. I groan, my balls tightening, the pressure building, and I thrust into her one last time, my cock pulsing as I come, my cum shooting deep inside her, filling her completely.
“Fuck,” I pant, my body slumping over hers, my forehead pressing against hers as I try to catch my breath.
I pull out, my cock twitching, and collapse beside her, my arm draped over her waist as I pull her close, her head resting on my chest.
Her breath comes in soft, even gasps, her body relaxed and sated, and I smile, a small, private smile that’s just for her. “You okay?” I ask, my voice soft, and she nods, her eyes fluttering closed as she snuggles into me.
“Better than okay,” she murmurs, and I chuckle, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.
For a long moment, we just breathe together, tangled and complete.
"I’m falling in love with you," she whispers into the silence.
My heart stops. "What?"
"I’m falling in love with you." Her brown eyes meet mine. "I know this was supposed to be practice, but I needed you to know."
I should tell her that I've loved her for weeks. That’s why I took my time to give her pleasure before finally making love to her, even though I didn’t realize what I was doing then.
That’s why I’ve been attentive as King, even though I thought I was simply finding out about her because I was only attracted to her.
I should tell her that King and Declan are the same person loving her in two different ways.
But the words stick in my throat.
"I’m falling in love with you, too," I say instead.
Too.
It’s the lamest way to tell a woman you love her. But it’s all I’m able to admit at the moment. We fall asleep tangled together, and I realize I've found home in Ivy's arms.
***
The game the next day is magic.
I'm unstoppable on the ice. First goal in the opening period, second midway through the second, third to seal the hat trick in the final minutes. Two assists on top of that. Every play feels effortless, instinctive, like my body knows exactly where to be before my brain catches up.
It's the best game of my career because Ivy is sitting in the research section watching me play.
The post-game press conference is packed. Reporters fire questions about the hat trick, the assists, the dominant performance that helped us secure a crucial road win.
"Declan, your play has been exceptional lately," one reporter says. "What's different? What's driving this level of performance?"
My eyes find Ivy in the back of the room. She's trying to be inconspicuous, but I see her.
"Sometimes you find the right motivation," I say, unable to stop the smile spreading across my face.
The reporters eat it up, speculating about my answer. But I don't elaborate.
Ivy knows who I'm talking about. She's ducking her head, fighting her own smile.
Back at the hotel, I'm riding high on adrenaline, victory, and love I finally admitted out loud. Tonight I'll tell her everything. Show her the texts as King, explain why I lied, make her understand that I fell for her as both versions of myself.
Maybe she'll be angry or she'll hate me for a while.
But we love each other. That has to count for something.
I reach for my phone to review the King messages, plan exactly how to phrase this confession.
My pocket is empty.
I check my other pocket. My bag. The nightstand.
Nothing.
"No!"
I tear through my luggage, dumping everything onto the bed. Check the bathroom, the closet, and under the furniture.
Both phones are gone.
Panic claws at my throat. I had them at the arena. I remember checking messages in the locker room after the game. But somewhere between there and here, they disappeared.
The phones are lost or were stolen.
And with them, all the evidence of my double life has disappeared.
But I've never lost my phone before, meaning that they were most likely stolen.
Who took my phones? And if that person finds out about the King deception, what would they do?