The banter continues. Rowan talks about Declan teaching him to drive in a parking lot, which involved a lot of cursing and one traumatized mailbox. Riley shares how Declan once called her art teacher to demand she get proper recognition for a piece the teacher dismissed.
All throughout, I watch Declan, the man who raised them. The way his expression softens when he looks at Riley and Rowan. How he deflects their praise with self-deprecating humor.
What I see is how he fiercely protects his own, sacrificing his early twenties to give them stability.
Warmth blossoms in my chest. I realize then that I want to be with Declan. Really be with him. Not to learn how to date. But to be with the man I’m falling for.
Declan.
The twins leave around ten, Riley hugging me goodbye like we've been friends for years.
"Thank you for making him happy," she whispers in my ear.
Declan locks the door once they walk out. He turns back to me, his eyes raking over me. The air becomes charged, the space between us feeling electric.
"Come here," he says, voice rough.
I go.
He kisses me before I can speak, one hand tangling in my hair, the other splaying across my lower back. It's deep, demanding.
"Bedroom," he murmurs against my lips.
We barely make it down the hall. He backs me against the wall, his mouth on my neck, my collarbone, the sensitive spot behind my ear that makes me gasp.
"Declan,” I breathe out.
"I need to taste you." His hands slide under my cardigan, lifting it over my head. "Been thinking about it all day. About how you'll scream my name when I use my mouth."
Heat floods through me, pooling low in my belly.
"Yes. Please."
We stumble into his bedroom, and he lays me on those charcoal sheets carefully. He strips my blouse, jeans, and underwear slowly until I'm bare before him.
"Beautiful," he says, his eyes turning intense.
Then he strips slowly. His t-shirt comes off, revealing the tattoo that plunges to his belly and makes me dream of what lies beneath. He removes his jeans and briefs, and then he’s naked before me.
This time, I take in all of him—hard, heavy, and unmistakably eager. And I can’t help wondering what he could do to me with it.
I want him to make me drown in pleasure.
When I lift my eyes to his, he's smirking. His eyes are dreamy.
He climbs on the bed. Supporting his weight with his forearm and knees, he starts by pecking my forehead, my nose, my ears, my cheeks. By the time he gets to my lips, I'm burning with anticipation.
His lips devour mine, sucking and eliciting desire. His tongue explores inside my mouth, sending heat waves into my body.
I moan, my hands splayed on his back.
When he kisses me until I can't breathe any longer, he moves to my neck, licking and sucking.
My breath becomes ragged when he presses kisses on my shoulders, my ribs, the valley between my breasts. I'm trembling by the time he licks my left breast, his tongue sending waves of electricity into my chest. His tongue rests on the tip of my nipples, and my breath hitches. He sucks them slowly, and I'm lost.
"Declan."
"Call my name." His voice is husky.
