Page 101 of Cross Check Hearts

“Sorry, hummingbird. Come on. We’ve got to get moving,” he says, clearly enjoying my frustration. He reaches for my legs, trying to pull me toward him and off the bed, but I bat his hands away.

“Wait, are you really not gonna let me come after all that?”

He lifts one muscled shoulder in an easy shrug and gets to his feet. “Nope.” He plucks my panties from his back pocket where I didn’t even realize he’d stashed them and twirls them around one of his fingers a few times. “Not right now anyway. But don’t worry. It’ll happen at some point tonight, so you won’t be needing these.”

I watch, dumbstruck, as he stuffs my panties back into his pocket. He’s not kidding. He’s really going to leave me hanging on the edge like this. And the worst part? As much as it pisses me off, it’s kind of turning me on at the same time. When I said that Declan has all of this power over me, I meant it, but I never expected him to use it like this.

And fuck, I think I like it.

But I’m feelingsofrustrated, sexually and otherwise, that I have half a mind to finish myself off and make him watch.

The thought of touching myself while his dark eyes drink in every movement sends another rush of heat surging between my thighs. But I know from the intensity in his gaze that two can play this game—and honestly, part of me is already addicted to the delicious torture. So I decide to give in and play along. As much as I crave the release that’s building inside me like a gathering storm, I know that waiting will only make the eventual explosion that much more powerful.

“You’re going to pay for this torture later,” I tell him, then walk to the bathroom on wobbly legs to grab my dress off the back of the door where it’s hanging. He follows and takes the dress from me to unzip it, holding it out for me to step into.

His fingers brush against my skin as I lift and slide one leg through the dress, and my breath hitches because I feel myself growing wetter just from that. But I’m not about to let him see how crazy he’s making me, so I suck in a determined breath and step my other leg through the dress.

“I’m counting on it,” he says with a wicked glint in his eye as he pulls the dress up over my body and zips it for me. He’s not wrong about the time though, so I check to make sure my makeup didn’t get messed up while we were fooling around, wipe off the streak of setting powder on my cheek and apply a few finishing touches, then we head out together.

We take my car, but Declan offers to drive. As we make our way down the streets of Denver, my pussy is still throbbing, and I can’t stop myself from squirming in the passenger seat. He catches it out of the corner of his eye and looks over to smirk at me.

“A little turned on, huh?”

“I can’t decide if I want to kill you or fuck you senseless,” I mutter, shifting in my seat again.

He takes my hand in his and mercifully rests them both on his leg instead of mine. I don’t think I could handle him touching me in any remotely sexual way right now.

But he must know that it’s still on my mind, because when he parks the car at the venue a few minutes later, he pulls me against him as we walk toward the entrance, letting me feel how hard he is against my hip.

“Just wait until I get you home tonight, hummingbird,” he whispers in my ear. “I’m going to make you come so hard you forget your own name.”

Chapter44

Declan

The law school alumni mixer is being held in a sprawling ballroom that screams old money and privilege. Crystal chandeliers hang overhead, illuminating the sea of designer suits and cocktail dresses below. One glance tells me everything I need to know—this crowd makes NHL salaries look like pocket change.

I’m no stranger to fancy events these days, but there’s fancy and then there’s whateverthisis.

For the first time, it reminds me that Hannah and I come from very different worlds. That doesn’t necessarily have to mean anything, but as I watch her stride in beside me, her arm in mine, she looks like a natural. Like she’s done this a million times before, and she probably has. Growing up as the daughter of one of the NHL’s best coaches made sure of that.

I straighten my shoulders and adjust my cuffs, reminding myself that I belong here now too. These days, I move in these circles—different sport, same league. And while I wasn’t born with a silver spoon, I’ve earned my place at tables like these through blood, sweat, and broken bones on the ice.

My mom worked double shifts so I could chase my dream, and now here I am, with my coach’s daughter on my arm and a contract that would make her weep with pride. If these people want to judge me for not having the right pedigree, let them try. I’ve faced down 250-pound defensemen at full speed—I can handle a few judgmental stares.

As soon as we merge with the crowd, a switch seems to flip in Hannah. When I offer to go to the bar to get us drinks, she kisses my cheek and lets go of my arm, then drifts into the sea of people, several of whom recognize her instantly. I watch in awe as she effortlessly glides among them, saying hi and schmoozing like she was born for this. This isn’t a side of Hannah I’ve seen before, and again, it shouldn’t be a surprise considering she’s probably been doing this kind of thing her entire life, but it’s still a sight to behold.

I make my way to the open bar and lean against it to watch. The bartender offers to make me a drink, and I ask for two whiskey sours. I never had strong feelings about that cocktail one way or another until Hannah, but now it’s the only thing I want. As he mixes our drinks, I gaze across the room as she continues to make the rounds. She smiles brightly, laughing and nodding along with what people are saying, and I can see the way people lean in toward her, drawn in by her bright presence.

I know she doesn’t want it, but it strikes me that she’d make one hell of a lawyer. Just from watching the way she has the people here eating out of the palm of her hand, I have no doubt she’d be just as amazing at getting a jury to believe anything she told them.

This woman could charm the devil himself.

The thought makes me smile because it’s true. And the best part is that she’s not even trying. This is why she’s a great yoga teacher too—because she makes people feel like the center of the universe when she focuses on them. She makes them feel seen. I’ve been amazed with and by her since the moment I met her, but watching her now makes me realize just how incredible she is in so many ways.

“Your whiskey sours, sir,” the bartender says, sliding two amber drinks across the bar.

“Thanks,” I reply, leaving a generous tip before picking them up.

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