Declare (Declan Reede: The Untold Story #4)

by Michelle Irwin

  I started to undress as I walked down the hall, shifting the glass from one hand to the other as I yanked my t-shirt off. After I entered the room, I kicked the door shut behind me. My heart began to pound, and I dropped my shirt in surprise when I took in the sight of Alyssa lying down, waiting for me.

  She’d taken the time I was in the kitchen to undress down to her bra and panties. She was stretched out along the bed with her legs crossed at the ankles and her hands tucked up behind her head. It meant that I had a great view of . . . well, of almost every part of her.

  The cold glass in my hand was all but forgotten as my mouth went dry in anticipation of kissing her all over. I stepped forward to cross the room to get to her, but in my haste I tripped over my discarded t-shirt. I managed to right myself seconds before I toppled onto my arse, but my momentum carried me—or more specifically, the hand holding the cup full of ice and Baileys—into the end of the bed. Before I could stop it, I was covered from neck to groin in the freezing-cold mixture.

  “Motherfucker!” I cried as my nipples puckered instantly, and my dick shrank away in shock.

  I looked up at Alyssa, expecting her to be at least a little concerned. Instead, it looked like she was struggling to hold in her laughter—struggling and failing. She was suddenly in a fit of hysterics.

  “Are you ’right?” I asked, unable to stop the snark in my voice.

  She pressed her lips together and actually managed to stifle her laughter.

  “Sorry,” she murmured as she scooted up the bed to get closer to me. “I shouldn’t laugh.” Her hands reached out for me, grabbing my waist and pulling me closer to her. She pressed her mouth against my stomach, and I felt her wet tongue swirl gently against me.

  “Mmm,” she hummed. “Baileys?”

  I tipped my head back and pushed my hips toward her. “Uh-huh.” I sighed as she continued her ministrations on my stomach.

  She ran her tongue from the waistband of my shorts to my abs in one smooth motion.

  I moaned with desire as she licked the cool liquid off my body.

  She hummed again as her hands came to rest on my waist. She pulled me closer to her, holding me tightly as her mouth moved around my stomach and up to my chest.

  I put my arms around her, and my hand tangled into her hair. I pulled her gently upward as I dipped down, desperate to taste the Baileys on her tongue. I held her body closely against mine, and she gasped a little as the liquid soaked into her bra and coated her skin. I pulled back from the kiss and grinned evilly. “Now you’re covered too.”

  She gaped at me. “You did that deliberately.”

  “Not initially, but it was too good an opportunity to pass up.” I shrugged.

  “Ooh, you know that means war, don’t you?”

  I laughed. “Bring it.”

  She leapt up from the bed, practically jumping onto me.

  I caught her easily and she wrapped her legs around me. I held on to her with one arm, using the other to tickle her.

  She squirmed against my arms, fighting me roughly to the point where I worried I might drop her.

  I wrapped my arms around her tightly and kissed her, distracting her long enough to move back over to the bed. I lowered her most of the way to the mattress, but let her fall the final distance—wanting to see more of that mock-anger burning in her eyes. As soon as I let her go, gaining the desired reaction, I climbed on my hands and knees to hover over her.

  She looked up at me indignantly for a second.

  “That’s it, buster,” she threatened teasingly. She tried to tickle me, but I twisted away and got her first. We wrestled like that for a few more moments until we were both panting from exertion and sticky from the drying Baileys.

  When our eyes met, we had one of those perfect moments. We both smiled at each other before I moved the hair away from her face and lowered myself over her. Our lips brushed over each other’s gently at first, soft and tender, before building to a crescendo.

  Then everything but each other was forgotten and all our remaining clothes were shed. We began to move together as only we could. I was intent to lose myself in her, and held her eyes captive to declare it.

  AFTER OUR afternoon delight, Alyssa and I showered then started dinner. The rest of the evening flew by as we showed Mum and Phoebe some of the gifts we’d received, including the trip to London.

  As soon as we’d read Phoebe a story and tucked her into bed, we headed to bed ourselves. I would have felt guilty that we weren’t spending much time with Mum, but she’d announced that she was going to the movies and would be home late. I knew she was just giving us our space, but I didn’t like thinking about her imagining what I was doing to Alyssa.

  “Ruby goes home tomorrow,” Alyssa murmured as we lay in each other’s arms drifting toward sleep.

  I hummed, knowing she wanted to say more.

  “Maybe we can take Phoebe over there to meet Noah?”

  “That sounds like a good idea,” I agreed.

  “He really is a cute little baby, isn’t he?”

  I shrugged. How could I do anything more? After all, I had no real basis for comparison. He was the first newborn baby I’d ever really seen up close. He was just tiny and pink, not to mention just a little bit wrinkly.

  “You don’t think so?” she asked. I felt her head turning to appraise me.

  “I honestly don’t know. I’ve never been around a baby before.”

  I felt her head rest against me while she turned thoughtful. “I forget sometimes.”

  “Forget what?”

  She sighed. “That you missed out on all those early experiences.”

  I was silent. I knew her well enough to know her tone wasn’t accusatory—she wasn’t blaming me for not being there—merely stating the fact. I resisted the urge to apologise again. I knew there had to come a time when we were able to move past it and talk about it without apologies and pain. It was a fact that I hadn’t been there. An inescapable and horribly shitty one, but a fact nonetheless.

  “They’re hard work,” she said after a few minutes.

  “What are?”

  “Babies. They’re a lot of hard work.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” I stated.

  “They’re worth it though.”

  I thought of Phoebe. Even though she was no longer a baby, she was proof that it was worth the hard work. I smiled. “I don’t doubt it.”

  We fell back into silence again.

  “And you’d want more kids?” she murmured thoughtfully after another couple more minutes had passed. “Even with the hard work?”

  I thought before answering. I knew her stance on the issue, and I didn’t want to upset her. “I would love to have another child with you. But you don’t want more kids, right? And I can live with that.”

  “Yeah. That’s right,” she whispered before snuggling back against my chest.

  ALYSSA CALLED Josh early to arrange our visit. Ruby was expected to leave the hospital around lunchtime, so we organised a dinner date with them. We explained to Phoebe that we would go see her new little cousin Noah at Uncle Josh and Aunt Ruby’s later that evening.

  We then spent the day with her, taking her around to all her old favourite places. To ensure she knew she had to be gentle around Noah, we explained how delicate babies were.

  Despite our misgivings that she might inadvertently hurt him, Phoebe was amazing with her little cousin. She was enthralled by him, making us promise that she could come and play with little Noah when he got bigger. Ruby even set her up on a chair with some cushions and supervised her while Phoebe cradled him.

  Phoebe was in heaven, and again I felt my stomach drop with the sensation of knowing she’d never have a little brother or sister of her own to hold. I would happily support Alyssa’s decision, but I still felt a pang of loss at times. Alyssa must have seen the look in my eyes, because she nestled into me before guiding my arm around her waist.

  EACH NIGHT as we headed to bed, Alyssa seemed though
tful about something, but each night our lust took over, and we barely spent any time talking. The few times I tried to raise the issue of her distraction, she’d told me it was nothing, and I let it drop because I didn’t want to push it. The couples’ therapy we’d had played in my mind, Dr. Henrikson’s reminders of when to probe and when to back away stabbing at my memory. It wasn’t causing us arguments, so it wasn’t something I needed to push her about.

  Yet.

  By the time we got back to Sydney, we’d both spent plenty of time with family. We’d even been able to spend a little time with Ben and Jade.

  We soon got back into the usual grind, only now it was different. Rather than being Declan Reede and Alyssa and Phoebe Dawson, we were the Reedes. It probably meant little to a casual observer, but it meant the world to me.

  When I went back to work, I was quickly whisked off for a series of physicals and other tests required by the contract I’d signed to be back in the ProV8. I still wasn’t sure how Danny was going to arrange it when Morgan was likely going to be out for the rest of the season, but if my dream was still going to be realised I wasn’t going to complain. Track days were booked for the end of August to give me the opportunity to test my reflexes back behind the beast before tackling Phillip Island.

  Unfortunately though, my wish to see the track from the inside of a V8 hit a snag a few days after getting back to work.

  “Do we have a problem?” Danny asked, his voice cautious.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, genuinely uncertain what could be concerning him. Aside from the two incidents in Townsville, my behaviour had been exemplary.

  “These turned up on my desk this morning.” He tossed an envelope across the table at me.

  I pulled open the envelope, tilting it and watched as a half-dozen photographs spilled out across Danny’s desk. I leafed through them quickly, but immediately realised what they were when I saw a girl pawing at me. Memories of my horrid birthday weekend came flooding to my mind. “This isn’t—”

  “Isn’t what it looks like?” he asked, with one eyebrow raised.

  “No! It’s not,” I said.

  “What, pray tell, do you think it looks like?”

  “Well, first off that I was actually enjoying myself.” I screwed my nose up.

  Danny chuckled once. “See, what I think it looks like is that you found yourself in a situation you weren’t comfortable in. Maybe even a situation someone else put you into.”

  I looked up at Danny in shock. Was he actually taking my side on something? I nodded in response to his words. “I guess it is what it looks like then.”

  “The oddest thing about these photos is the timing of their arrival,” he mused.

  When did they arrive? The question was on my lips, but died in my throat as Danny shook his head ever so slightly. I got the impression something bigger was happening, something I didn’t quite understand. I knew who’d sent the photos—there was no doubt in my mind it was Hunter, because he’d been the one to orchestrate the surprise for my birthday. I debated telling Danny so, but realised it wouldn’t be any benefit. Danny obviously wasn’t concerned about the photos. I just wasn’t sure exactly what his concern was then.

  “I have to be honest with you, Declan,” he said after a beat, breaking my train of thought by grabbing the photos back and pushing them into his desk drawer. “When I found out about the new rule regarding the endurance racers, you were the first person to spring to mind. I thought it would be a good way to be able to keep your skills up, without risking the loss of any major sponsors.”

  Still mute with confusion, I nodded.

  “Unfortunately though, circumstances have changed since then. There are situations at play now which limit my options.”

  “Okay?” I couldn’t figure out exactly what he was trying to tell me. I wished he would just come out and tell me what he was thinking, but obviously there was some reason he wouldn’t. Or couldn’t.

  “Ideally, I would have run you in Morgan’s car. You two have very similar racing styles and complement each other well. You’ve shown that in many enduros in the past.”

  I nodded, agreeing completely with him. Morgan and I had a way of communicating which, short of my disastrous showing the previous year, had seen us be very successful.

  “Unfortunately, Morgan has been ruled out for the rest of the year.”

  I’d seen Morgan just a few days earlier. He was healing well and with physio was expected to be back for the following year’s race calendar, but the team doctor was taking his lead from the physiotherapist, who was unwilling to sign a release before Phillip Island.

  Morgan was desperate to be back, but until he had that clearance, he couldn’t race.

  “This means we will only have one car running in the endurance races.” He paused for a moment, seeming to weigh his words heavily before speaking. “I spoke with Hunter yesterday about the potential for you to co-drive with him at Phillip Island.”

  I scoffed. “That would have gone down well.”

  His eyes fell to his desk drawer for less than a fraction of a second.

  I trailed the same path before turning back to him. I could have sworn he nodded slightly.

  “How would you feel about that situation?” he asked after a moment’s pause.

  “Driving with Hunter?” I clarified. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I can’t see any other options, I’m afraid,” he almost sounded apologetic.

  “But with Hunter? He hates me, and believe me, the feeling is more than mutual.”

  “I just don’t know what other option I have.” He sighed.

  “Put me in Morgan’s car then.”

  “I’m afraid it’s not that easy, Declan. I’d need to approve the move with all the sponsors, organise rebranding if any wanted to change. And I’d still need to find two other drivers, one for each car. It’s just not viable.”

  My dream was slipping further away with every word he spoke.

  “With more time. More resources. Maybe a car that wasn’t under a sponsorship contract, maybe I could consider it.”

  I nodded as my hope ebbed to the floor. “So, it’s off the cards?”

  “Unfortunately, the opportunity for you to drive under the Sinclair Racing banner is off the cards. I’ve offered the seat to Smythe.”

  It didn’t surprise me that the rookie driver from the Production Series had been tapped. It was a good way for him to cut his teeth in ProV8s. While that thought turned over in my mind, something else struck me. Danny’s words were odd, and seemingly chosen with care. There was something he wanted me to read between the lines. I couldn’t race under the Sinclair Racing banner . . . but I could still race. How? It didn’t make sense. There was no way I could—

  I blinked as the thought struck me. There was one way. It was bold. It was fucking stupid. It would be hard, but I thought I might be just lucky—and crazy—enough to pull it off. I grinned wickedly before outlining my idea to Danny. A small, knowing grin crossed his lips halfway through my plan. When he actually looked thoughtful and didn’t refuse me outright, I guessed it meant I’d read the situation correctly, or at least had suggested something that was actually workable. The task I was suggesting was monumental, but having Danny onside for the plan would make it easier.

  Life was all about the small victories.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: JUST MANAGING

  IT HADN’T TAKEN long for the enormity of what I’d asked of Danny to hit me. We’d had another meeting just as everyone else was leaving for the afternoon to discuss it further. Having assumed halfway through the day that I’d actually completely misread the situation, I’d expected him to rubbish my plan outright.

  But not once did he tell me not to do it.

  Of course, he hadn’t offered me his outright support either, but I wasn’t exactly expecting that, especially when I was effectively talking about leaving Sinclair Racing.

  Instead, what he had offered me was a glimmer of hope. He’d
sat me down and told me all the negatives of my plan. In doing so, he’d outlined, in detail, everything I needed to achieve in order to pull it off.

  Almost as soon as the meeting started, under the pretence of him explaining why it couldn’t work, I could see what he was doing—giving me a plan of attack.

  Once I’d realised where he was going with it all, I pushed aside the part of me that wanted to tell him to shove it up his arse. I bit my tongue and grabbed a pen and notepad from his desk. While I quickly scribbled notes about all of the work that would be involved to pull it off, he waited patiently then filtered a little more information my way.

  I wanted desperately to ask him a few questions and demand some straight answers, but I knew I wouldn’t get any—at least not yet. I was going to have to try to read between the lines of what he’d told me for a while. His hands were clearly tied by something—either sponsorship contracts or something else.

  My first port of call, after getting Danny’s implicit approval, was to see Alyssa. I hoped she would be able to help me somewhat. At the very least, I would rely heavily on her support to get through the difficult times and shitload of work ahead of me. She wouldn’t be able to help out too much with the actual legal side of it—like drawing up the contract that I would need—but she could offer her support.

  Danny had explained it all to me in our meeting. Apparently, because she worked for Pembletons, the firm that would represent him in the negotiations, she had a conflict of interest and wouldn’t be able to help me. I didn’t really completely understand what he was talking about, but I hoped that Alyssa would be able to at least point me in the right direction and straighten out some of the confusion I felt over the whole thing. If nothing else, just knowing she was in my corner would do me the world of good.