I think I do, but I realize that we haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of what this might be. Of what our hearts are telling us. Of what we both want from this.
He pulls my sweater over my head and studies my breasts as if they’re something to be worshipped. I swallow hard. I unbutton his shirt and slide it over his shoulders. After the frantic desperation of his study, this moment feels tender, like it’s our first time, and I want to savor it.
I place my hands on his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat. His wife’s name is tattooed above his heart. I’m not jealous. It’s beautiful, all elegant cursive entwined with flowers, and my heart melts for him. He loved her. She’s the mother of his sons. It’s only right.
“Take off your clothes, Amelia.”
I unzip my jeans and drag them down over my hips with my panties. I’ve never been self-conscious about my body, but when Declan looks at me, I want to know what he sees. I want to be perfect for him.
With the pitter-patter of the rain from the overhanging shelter providing the backdrop, he traces his way down my body with his fingertips, sending shivers up and down my spine. Goose bumps pop on my skin, and my teeth chatter.
“Are you cold?”
I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak.
He pulls me into his arms and licks the bite mark on my neck as if he can make it magically disappear. “I shouldn’t have?—”
“I wanted you to.”
He kisses my lips. Then my jawline. My earlobes. And every part of my body responds to his touch.
He cups my face with his hands and peers into my eyes. My nipples brush his chest, and his erection grows inside his pants. But none of that matters. What matters is that I can’t imagine being here with anyone else. I’ve never gotten naked in public before. Aside from the fact that it’s illegal, no one has ever made me want to take off my clothes and do things that would get us locked up if we were caught.
But with Declan, I feel safe.
I know that if someone walked along this beach right now, he would protect me. He would put himself in the line of fire if it meant that I wouldn’t get hurt, and I’ve never met anyone who would do that for me.
As if he can read my mind, he says, “I will never let anyone hurt you, Amelia.”
“I believe you,” I whisper.
“Do you trust me?”
I don’t even have to think about it. “Yes.”
“It’s more than I deserve, but I promise I won’t let you down.”
When he kisses me, I forget that we’re on a beach with the rain bouncing off the surface of the sea. I forget that, moments ago, I was shivering. Because with his arms around me, and his lips on mine, anywhere in the world would be the right place to be.
It’s late when we get back to the house.
The lights are on, but it’s quiet, like the house has been waiting for us. In the foyer, Declan pulls me into his arms and kisses me swiftly on the lips, crushing me against him as if he doesn’t want to let go.
He’s taking a huge risk that Orla won’t suddenly appear from the kitchen and catch us. But his eyes never leave mine. He doesn’t peer around him warily or flinch at the sounds of the hot water gurgling through the pipes.
“I’m heading up to my room,” I say.
I should see if Orla is in the living room or the conservatory, where she spends a lot of time, but my hair is stringy wet and sandy from the beach, my lips are swollen, and I don’t trust myself to lie convincingly enough to fool her. If she’s anything like my grandma, she’ll take one look at me and ask me if I’m serious about whichever young man got inside my panties.
“Sweet dreams.” Declan pulls me to him and kisses my forehead.
He’s still watching me when I reach the top of the stairs and turn around. I blow him a kiss and float along the landing to my bedroom.
Inside I head straight into my ensuite and study my reflection in the mirror. Even if I ignore the sand in my hair, and the red mark on my neck, I look like a woman who had multiple orgasms.
“Fuck.” I lean closer and inspect my face and neck for more visible signs.
My lips will settle overnight, but there’s another faint red mark near my left ear that will be harder to cover up. I might need to straighten my hair after my shower and roll out the timeless excuse:I burnt myself on my straightener.
