The Hockey Star Who Sent His Teammate to My Bed

My boyfriend wanted his most trusted teammate in my bed.

He thought that would free him to sleep with the model.

And if it ever came out, he could pin all of it on me.

I stood outside the equipment room and heard every word of their plan.

That night, I poured his teammate a drink with my own hands.

Then I let that man choose me.

---

I only went back for the sponsor folder.

Practice had ended twenty minutes earlier. The rink was empty, and the hallway smelled like rubber mats and cold sweat. The equipment room door sat open an inch.

Mason's voice slid through the gap.

I pulled out my phone, opened the recorder, and hit the red button.

"You just have to get close to her, Declan. That's all."

I stopped with my hand on the wall.

"Get close to Camille?" Declan's voice was low and rough, the way it always sounded after a hard skate. "Your girlfriend. You're asking me to hit on your girlfriend."

"I'm asking you to do more than hit on her."

Silence. Then a stick clattered against the floor.

"You're out of your mind," Declan said.

"I'm seeing Fallon."

My fingers went numb.

Fallon. The swimsuit model from the charity gala. The one who had laughed at all of Mason's jokes while I stood holding his coat.

"It's been three months," Mason went on, like he was reading a stat line. "Her agent's getting nervous. Somebody's going to snap a photo sooner or later. When it breaks, I need to be the guy who got cheated on first. She cheats first, I'm covered."

"So you want Camille to cheat."

"I want Camille to look like she cheated. With you. Nobody would question it. You're always around."

"No."

Declan said it flat. For one stupid second, my chest loosened.

"Come on, man. Camille and I have been dead for a year. We share a lease. That's it."

A lie. He had kissed me goodbye that morning. He had asked me to make his favorite steak tonight.

"I said no, Mason."

"Remember juniors?"

The room went quiet.

"The fight in the parking lot," Mason said softly. "The ref's car. Who told the league it was him? Who ate that six-game suspension so you wouldn't lose your scholarship?"

"That's not fair."

"Neither was taking the hit for you. I never asked for anything back. I'm asking now."

I waited. I counted my own heartbeats. Four. Five. Six.

"One night," Declan said finally. "That's all you get."

"That's all I need."

I didn't wait for the rest. I walked back down the hallway, out to my car, and drove to the grocery store.

I bought the steak anyway.

---

At six-thirty, Mason called.

"Babe, the sponsors want to go over the contract tonight. I'm stuck."

I flipped the steak in the pan. "That's too bad."

"Hey, Declan was going to stop by to watch film. Can you keep him company? Feed him or something. I'll be late."

"Sure," I said. "I'll take good care of him."

He didn't even hear the edge in it. "You're the best."

I hung up and went to the bedroom.

The green silk dress was in the back of the closet. Mason had bought it for my birthday. He said it made him crazy. Thin straps. No room for a bra.

I put it on.

---

Declan knocked at eight. He held a bottle of red wine like a peace offering.

He was taller than Mason. Broader across the shoulders, his dark hair still damp from a shower. His gray eyes moved over the dress once, then snapped back to my face.

"Mason said he'd be late," he said.

"He told me." I took the bottle from him. "Come in. Sit."

He sat on the couch. I opened the wine and poured two glasses, a heavy pour for him.

"You didn't have to dress up," he said.

"I didn't. This is what I wear when I'm alone."

He laughed, short and surprised. Then he took a long swallow of wine.

I sat beside him. Close enough that my knee touched his.

"So," I said. "What did Mason tell you to do tonight?"

His glass froze halfway to his mouth.

"Watch film," he said.

"Right. Film."

I refilled his glass before he could set it down. He watched my hands the entire time.

"You're different tonight, Camille."

"Am I?"

"You usually talk about Mason. His stats. His knee."

"I'm tired of talking about Mason."

He set the glass on the table. When he turned back, his voice had dropped. "You shouldn't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you already know how this ends."

I didn't answer. I just reached over and tugged one strap of the dress off my shoulder.

His jaw went tight. Then he moved.

His hand caught the back of my neck, and his mouth landed on my collarbone, hot and hungry. He pushed the other strap down. The silk slid to my waist.

This was mine. I'd set it up. I wanted it.

So I gave him the show Mason paid for.

"No," I gasped, pressing my palms to his chest without any strength behind them. "Declan, no. Mason—Mason—"

He groaned against my throat. "Say his name again."

"Mason," I whispered.

"Fuck." His teeth grazed my skin. "You have no idea what that does to me."

He pulled back just far enough to see my face. His eyes were black.

"Tell me to stop, Camille. Really tell me."

I held his gaze. "Don't you dare stop."

Something broke loose in him. He hauled me off the couch by the waist, and the dress fell around my ankles. He lifted me like I weighed nothing. My back hit the wall by the bookshelf.

"Wrap your legs around me."

I did. I could feel him through his jeans, thick and hard, pressing right against my wet pussy.

He fumbled with his belt with one hand, holding me up with the other. His forearm was a solid band across my back.

"You're soaked," he said, his voice ragged. "Were you wet when I walked in?"

"Since you knocked."

"Jesus, Camille."

He pushed into me in one long thrust. I cried out and dug my nails into his shoulders.

"Fuck—Declan—"

"That's it. My name now. Not his."

He fucked me standing up, slow at first, then harder, his hips slamming me into the wall. A picture frame rattled. His mouth was on my breast, sucking my nipple, then back on my neck.

"Look at you," he breathed. "Fucking look at you. He had you and he threw you away?"

"Harder."

"Like this?"

"Yes—Declan, fuck, right there—"

He shifted his grip under my thighs and drove deeper. Every stroke dragged against the spot that made my vision go white.

"You're gonna come on my cock, Camille. I want to feel it."

I meant to stay in control. I'd planned that part too.

It didn't matter. The tension snapped so fast it scared me. My whole body clenched around him, and I came hard, shaking, a sound tearing out of my throat that I'd never made for Mason. Wetness ran down the inside of my thighs.

Declan swore and buried his face in my hair, thrusting through it until he spilled inside me with a low, broken groan.

For a long moment, neither of us moved.

Then his phone buzzed on the coffee table.

The screen lit up across the dark room. I could read it from the wall.

Mason: Is it done?

Declan stared at it. Then he looked at me, still holding me against the wall, still inside me.

"You knew," he said quietly.

I smiled.

"Answer him, Declan. Tell him yes."