“That doesn’t hurt,” she whispers.
“Good. I don’t want anything to hurt you.” Especially me.
She leans up on tiptoes and presses her lips to mine.
The kiss starts soft, more questioning than demanding, but the heat behind her touch unravels me fast. She slides herfingers into my hair, urging me closer with an urgency that sends warmth rushing through my chest.
I deepen the kiss, hands settling at her waist. She melts into me, body warm and eager. I curl my hands around her waist, gathering the soft wool of her sweater between my fingers. Effortlessly, I lift her onto the edge of the kitchen counter, and she wraps her legs around me, drawing me closer.
“Declan,” she gasps against my mouth, her fingers tightening in my hair, tugging enough to send a jolt down my spine.
I break our kiss and trail my lips down her neck, tasting the salt of her skin, savoring the faint tremor of her pulse racing under my tongue.
“Let’s go upstairs,” I murmur against her skin.
Without waiting for her answer, I slide my hands under her thighs and lift her off the counter. She fits against me like she was made to—a soft exhale against my ear, fingers tightening at the back of my neck. Every inch of her presses into me as I carry her out of the kitchen and into the narrower back staircase.
“I can walk.” Emery laughs, her breath warm against my cheek. “I think. Set me down.”
I snort and keep moving. “I’ve got you.”
We pop out of the staircase at the end of the upstairs hall, across from my bedroom.
“Ooo, a fancy, secret staircase,” she teases, running her fingers through my hair. “Conveniently close to your room.”
“Glad you remember.”
“How could I forget?” She nods toward the console table against the wall. “You gave me a mind-blowing orgasm right there on top of that fancy antique.”
“Mind-blowing, huh?”
In my room, moonlight filters through the half-drawn curtains, painting her in silvery-blue shadows. I set her on her feet beside the bed and slide my hands under the hem of hersweaterdress, pushing it up over her head. Her hair spills free and she shakes it out of her face.
“This is really pretty on you,” I say, tossing it toward the chair in the corner and missing. “But I need it off now.”
She laughs, the movement jiggling her breasts in the most enticing way.
I yank my shirt over my head, unbuckle my belt, and glance up just as she bends forward on the mattress, fingers curled in the laces of her boots.
“I’ve got that,” I say, my voice rough and urgent, kneeling in front of her, a penitent ready to atone for my sins. My fingers graze hers as I take over, quickly working the long line of laces loose. I slip off one boot, dropping it on the floor with a mutedthud. I tug off the thick sock she’s wearing, my hands lingering on her foot for a moment, my thumb pressing gently into her arch.
“Ooo,” she moans. “That’s nice.”
“Your feet hurt?” I work slow circles into a spot that makes her toes flex. She sighs, warm and open, trusting enough to give me every small reaction.
I remove the other boot, peel off the sock, and give that foot the same treatment. Her muscles loosen, her breath deepens.
She shifts, wriggling slightly as she reaches for the waistband of her tights. But I catch her hands in mine, guiding them away with a gentle firmness.
“No.” My gaze locks onto hers. “Mine.”
Her breath stutters. Her fingers relax.
I slide my hands up her thighs, the heat from her skin warm through her tights. I reach the elastic band at her hips and hook my fingers under it then slowly roll them down, inch by inch.
The fabric whispers against her skin as she wiggles and lifts herself so I can roll them down her hips, her thighs, the tender curve above her knee.
“Declan…” Just my name. Barely a whisper. Full of want.
