I start riding him in earnest, and he slams his eyes shut.
“Don’t,” I tell him. “Look at me, Declan.”
“Mia…” He opens his eyes.
“It’s okay to be vulnerable. No one’s judging you here. Give up the control, honey. You’re safe.”
I may be talking softly, but I’m riding him hard. I swivel my hips like pistons as I drag my fingers down his bare chest. His lips part, and he starts saying my name interspersed with other mutterings.
Cursing is followed by, “God, that feels so fucking good,” followed by my name again.
He urges me to ride him harder, and then he starts thrusting up into me from below.
And I let him take over.
I’m freaking exhausted, and I hang onto his shoulders as he takes us both over the edge.
I dig my teeth into his shoulder as I come, and he buries his head in my neck.
“Fuck,” he mutters as we both come down from the high. “Fuck.”
Yes, that was incredible. Like it always is with us.
But as I start to breathe normally again, the reality of what we just did hits me.
It’s dinnertime. But soon, it will be nighttime. What do we do—say good night and go off to our separate bedrooms?
“Mia.” Declan’s soothing voice is in my ear. “Don’t overthink this.”
“I’m not,” I say.
His throaty chuckle makes me smile.
“You are. And for the record, we’re sleeping together tonight.”
I whip my head up. “How did you—”
“I just did.” He kisses me tenderly. “Let’s make dinner here tonight.”
“Just the two of us?”
“Just the two of us. No cousins for once, and we’re meeting my parents tomorrow for breakfast. So tonight, just you and me?”
I smile. “Just you and me.”
* * *
Declan and I cook chicken and pasta for dinner. I also make a big salad, and for dessert, we share a bowl of ice cream.
“Sorry about my dad blindsiding us like that,” Declan says as we settle back on the couch and he takes a bite of ice cream. “In a million years, I wouldn’t have expected that.”
“I didn’t mind. I thought it was nice of him, to be honest.” I reach out and put my hand over his. “You looked a little shell-shocked by what he said.”
Declan flips his hand so he can run his thumb over mine. “That’s a good assessment. My dad isn’t known for his apologies.”
I think it over. “Maybe becoming a grandfather mellowed him.”
“That’s pretty instant mellowing,” he jokes.
