The morning after a major event is always followed by some unease because a change occurred, and change unsettles some of us. Some of us take more time than others to adjust. New job, new environment. New boyfriend?
It’s extra awkward when I wake up and hear Declan in the shower again. He took one last night, but I guess he needed another one this morning. Since he uses the shower in the master bedroom, which I’m sleeping in, I can see his profile when he steps out.
Wow, that man is built like a god. Long, muscular legs. Tightly packed upper body. Toned biceps, hard jaw. A beautiful specimen of a man.
When he reaches for the towel and wraps it around his waist, I wonder if I should pretend I’m still sleeping. Since he dresses in the bathroom, it’ll be a while. The bathroom connects with the closet so Declan can get ready without ever leaving the space.
He strides toward the bedroom. Damn. I squint my eyes nearly shut, but then think better of it. He must’ve seen me awake.
Declan limps on the way to the panic room. “Morning,” he says.
Heat blooms in my cheeks, and I pull the comforter slowly over my face. “I’m not looking.”
Declan chuckles, which sounds as if he’s near my bed. “Oh, you can look.”
I pull down the comforter and find him hovering above me. He bends and kisses me on the forehead, not on the mouth. I’m disappointed, but I understand. Fighting our attraction will be for the best in the long run. Indulging won’t serve us well. He’s a Crossbow, and I’m just an ordinary Selnoan, trying to live out my new single life.
That’s not to mention our age gap, which isn’t a big deal until you take into account that he might want marriage and a child, neither of which I want. I’ve been there, done that, and I can’t put myself through a marriage again, only to be cheated on and dumped in my late fifties.
Declan’s fresh, peppermint toothpaste and aftershave make me want to lick him.
“Take your time,” he says. “The cops are waiting downstairs.”
My turn to chuckle. “The cops are waiting, so we take our time?”
“Mmhm.” He hovers, stares at my lips, pulls his bottom one through his teeth, then growls as he leaves, putting more weight on one leg.
“Have you seen Connor?” I ask when Declan walks into the panic room.
“No.”
“Do you think he’s okay?”
Declan returns with his pants on, buckling his belt. No shirt. The skull tattoo covering his entire chest is sexy. The mattress dips when he sits next to me. He puts his fists on the mattress, effectively trapping me. “Connor will live. I don’t want you to hug him, worry about him, or parent him anymore. Is that clear?” His face hardens.
I cup it with my hands because I know it will soften him, if only a little bit. “It’s clear.”
His eyebrows draw down. “You don’t want to push back on that?”
“No.”
He stands again. “I should make you come more often, then.”
I toss a pillow at him.
He catches it and flings it back onto the bed.
A knock comes from the door, and Connor pokes his head inside. “Hey, guys,” he says, and I wince at the sight of swelling at the bottom of his face.
I point at Connor. “You said he was fine.”
Declan looks confused. “He is fine.”
“His face is swollen.”
“So is my ankle again, and I don’t see you asking about that.”
“That’s what you get for fighting while injured.”
