Page 77 of Secret Pucking Unicorn

My phone vibrates with an incoming text.

Coach: Hotel bar. Now.

Daphne must have told him of my plan.

Me: On my way.

Some of my crew are already down there when I arrive. My gaze sweeps the bar and I see Coach talking with the coaches of the other teams. Is that why he wants me here? To talk to coaches? Oh crap. Is he going to trade me?

Mallory comes up to me and slips her arm through mine. “I don’t know what made you suddenly go as white as a sheet, but don’t pass out. You’ll put a dent in these lovely floors.”

I give a weak smile. “Hi Mallory, Coach texted me to come down here.”

She flushes slightly. “Um, that was me. My phone is upstairs drying out. Bubble bath mishap.” She tugs on my arm as she walks away. “Come on.”

She leads the way through the groups of people gathered and I get some slaps on the shoulders and “Sucks about your hand,” and “Heal up soon,” comments as we make our way to a side room.

My mopey wolf lifts his head, sniffs, and gives a happy yip. I don’t need him to tell me Miranda is here. I can see her sitting across the room on stools at a high table with Carter and Sophie. I don’t know how he’ll play in the game with one working arm, but if Carter doesn’t take it from around the back of Miranda’s stool, he’s going to have to figure out how.

Maybe Miranda senses my presence because she stops mid-comment and turns to look in the doorway where I’m standing. She blinks twice like she doesn’t believe what she’s seeing and then the most beautiful smile spreads across her face. I have a moment to savor it before it falls, and she bites her lip, like she’s worried or unsure. Oh no, my Daisy has nothing to worry about where I’m concerned.

Unwinding my arm from Mallory’s, I stride across the room to reach Miranda’s side. Wide gray eyes blink up at me when she whispers my name right before my lips claim hers in the kiss I’ve been denied for a week. Her arms wrap around my neck, and she kisses me back with the same passion I’m straining hard to hold back. My head clears long enough to realize we can’t keep kissing like this, at least not in public.

Miranda must realize the same because she murmurs in my ear, “My room, now.”

We don’t bother saying goodbye to anyone. I grab her hand with my good one and bulldoze my way through the people milling about, ignoring anyone who tries to stop me for a chat. I guess it’s a good thing we don’t have the elevator to ourselves, because I don’t think I could resist kissing her again. As it is, I’m cursing the fact my family has hotels with over three floors. When we finally reach the tenth floor and step into the hallway, it’s Miranda taking the lead and guiding me to a door halfway down the hallway.

She uses the key card to let us into the room. It’s the standard room, not a suite.

“Do you have a roommate?” I ask, surprised by how raspy my voice is, but impressed I used my words and didn’t grunt and point at the bed.

“You, hopefully.”

Hell yes. I want to make love to Miranda all night long, but too much has happened this week. My brain is saying we should talk. Parts further south are insisting we can talk later. We have a lot of time to make up for. The door closes behind me and I turn, engaging every single lock there is. When I turn back around, I discover Miranda has already taken off my jersey and her shirt underneath and is kicking off her black Converse sneakers, leaving her clad in a white bra and jeans.

My mouth goes dry at the sight. Her breasts are jiggling in her plain white cotton bra and when she undoes the button on her jeans and shimmies to slide them down her hips, I almost swallow my tongue. I know she’s trying to get naked and is not intentionally doing a striptease, but this is the sexiest dance I’ve ever seen.

“Whoa, Miranda, do you think we should talk?”

“Nope,” she says, popping the p. “You need to undress and get back to kissing me. We can talk later. I need you now.”

Okay, I tried. In a flash, we are both undressed and Miranda is pushing me to sit on the bed. She stands between my spread legs with her hands on my shoulders. One bedside lamp is on. The light and shadows play over her skin, highlighting some areas while obscuring others. I wrap my arms around her waist to pull her closer to me. Even though I’m seated, with my height, I’m able to nuzzle her collarbone and the top of her breasts. I press soft kisses and give tiny nips I soothe with gentle lathes of my tongue. Miranda squirms, but I don’t release her from my embrace.

“Declan,” she moans, my name on her lips the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard. “I want you. Inside me. Now.”

With one hand in the brace, I’m not sure how we are going to manage this.

Miranda pushes on my shoulders.

“Lay back, let me handle everything. Do you have a condom?”

I do as she says and recline on the bed with my uninjured arm under my head. “Aye, in my wallet.” But I’m not coordinated enough to put it on one-handed.

“May I?” she asks, holding up my pants.

I nod. She pulls out both condoms and puts my wallet back in my pocket and lets my jeans fall to the floor.

“Two?” she asks.

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