Chapter 6

Declan

The door clicked shut and I was still staring at it.

Kendall made a sound against my shoulder. “What the hell was that?”

“Nothing.” I didn’t pull away right away. My body kept moving on pure momentum for another few seconds, rhythm thrown off but not stopped, eyes locked on the empty doorway even after she’d disappeared. Only when the latch fully engaged did I finally slow, then drop onto my back. The ceiling had a water stain shaped like a boot. I stared at it.

“Nothing?” Kendall pushed up on one elbow. “Some random girl just walked in on us.”

“Yep.”

“And you just—kept going. You looked right at her.”

“Yep.”

She laughed, surprised, a little annoyed. “You’re insane.”

I didn’t argue. The boot-shaped stain had a smaller stain inside it that looked like a fist. I wondered who’d had the room before me. I wondered if they’d had worse nights than this one or better ones.

Who was that girl.

Not a question I’d planned on having. Tonight was supposed to be simple. We’d beaten the Thunder Bears by three last night, Finn had nearly taken a guy’s head off in the third period, and Cole had done his victory lap around the ice with his helmet on backwards. Tonight was just about doing what the Wolves did after a win. Drink. Celebrate. Find someone warm. The usual. I’d done it enough times that the script felt automatic—almost hollow if I let myself think about it too long. So I didn’t.

Kendall had been standing by the kitchen counter in low-rise flared jeans, a tiny strappy top, and heeled boots, looking like she’d dressed specifically to make bad decisions tonight. That was basically a formal invitation. I’m not complicated.

And it had been good. It had been exactly what tonight called for.

Then the door opened.

A girl stood in the doorway, wearing a black cami and beige mini skirt. Long honey-brown hair, striking blue eyes. She covered her mouth, staring at us like she’d walked in on something she hadn’t wanted to see.

Those eyes. Same startled blue that had looked up at me on the landing that morning when she’d nearly stumbled. Same careful, ready-to-bolt set to her shoulders even in the second before she backed out. The figure skater from the rink.

I recognized her.

What I hadn’t figured out was why the image of her was still sitting behind my eyes now, sharper than it had any right to be.

Kendall was right there, but the moment the door shut, something in me had already shifted.

I’d seen plenty of pretty girls at Wolf Den parties. None of them had ever cut through the noise like that.

Kendall’s hand moved across my stomach. Her mouth found my jaw, then my collarbone, then lower.

She lifted her head and looked at me. Her red hair was everywhere. She had a look on her face that I recognized—the one that came right before either a fight or an escalation, and I genuinely wasn’t sure which direction tonight was going.

Then she decided. She lowered her head, and without warning she took me deep into her mouth. The sudden tight, wet heat blurred my vision.

Fuck.

My hips moved before I could stop them. Her fingers joined in, gentle and exploring, finding a strange edge of pleasure-pain that made my breath catch. That finger kept teasing, rubbing, coaxing, pushing boundaries I hadn’t known I’d be willing to cross tonight. It felt so good I almost forgot the girl in the doorway.

Almost.

My balls tightened. My throat went dry. I could barely get the words out.

“I’m close.”

Then two more.

“Really close—”

She sealed her lips tighter around me, pushing a finger deeper at the same time she sucked hard, and I broke. My hips jerked off the mattress. I came hard, gasping, spilling into her throat while she moaned around me. Every small swallow milked another pulse out of me until I was nothing but a wrecked, breathing mess on the sheets.

Kendall crawled back up and settled against my side. Her hand rested light and warm on my stomach, a small anchor keeping me from floating off completely.

I dragged in air.

“That…” I managed. “Was amazing.”

“I know.” She sounded pleased with herself. She’d earned it.

We stayed like that for a while. The music downstairs kept thumping, the bass so heavy it felt like it had its own pulse. Someone was laughing hard enough to cut through the walls. The boot-shaped stain on the ceiling hadn’t moved an inch.

Kendall’s fingers traced restless circles on my stomach. She’d stood too close all night, laughed too loud at my jokes, brushed my arm with every reach for a drink. Earlier she’d said, almost casually, that last weekend’s party hadn’t been enough—she’d been hoping to run into me after the game. I’d caught the way her eyes narrowed when another girl tried to pull me toward beer pong. I’d told myself it wasn’t my problem. In retrospect, that was optimistic as hell.

Her hand stilled. The quiet stretched just long enough to turn sharp.

“You’re still thinking about her,” she said. Not a question.

“I’m not.”

“You are.” Her palm flattened against my stomach, pressing down like she could pin the truth there. “You’ve been somewhere else since she walked in. Even just now—you were gone.”

I didn’t have an answer that wouldn’t make it worse.

“So what are we doing here, Declan?” Her voice stayed even, but there was steel under it. “Is this just another post-game thing for you, or am I actually on your radar?”

I opened my mouth, then shut it. The automatic lines were right there—it’s fun, don’t overthink it, we’re good—but they felt thinner than usual.

She waited a beat, watching me fail to produce anything useful.

“Right.” She let out a short breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Because I’ve been pretty clear. And you’re still looking at the door like she might walk back through it.”

The quiet turned sharp.

“I want to be your girlfriend.”