“Your magical penis?”
He rolls away and stands up from the bed. “No.Actualfood.” He grabs his boxer briefs and tugs them on. “You need your strength for what I have planned for you later.”
“Later?”
He nods slowly.
“You don’t need to go to the trouble. I can just go back home.”
I start to get up, but he pushes me back onto the bed, crawling on top of me and pinning me down.
“Not a chance in hell. I’m not done with you yet, Claire.”
His mouth captures mine in another heated kiss, and I melt into him.
My brain shouts at me to leave. Put some distance between us before this turns into something I can’t control. But I don’t. Because thinking clearly around Declan is impossible.
“Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes. Feel free to use the shower if you’d like.”
He leaves me with one last kiss on my forehead, then disappears down the hall. I reluctantly get out of Declan’s bed and pad into the bathroom.
The faint scent of his cologne clings to the air, grounding and disarming all at once. His toiletries line the marble counter — toothpaste, mouthwash, shaving cream. It’s not cluttered like my vanity. Another stark reminder of how different we are. He’s all precision and organization. I’m chaos and creativity.
I head toward the shower and turn on the water. Once it’s the right temperature, I pin up my hair and step under the stream, sighing as the water hits me.
Even though I’m not washing my hair, I reach for his shampoo and open the cap, inhaling. It smells like him. Masculine, earthy, with some clean undertones that make me want to bury my face in his neck.
After a longer shower than necessary, considering I didn’t wash my hair, I wrap myself in an oversized towel and return to the bedroom. I’m about to put my clothes back on, but spot Declan’s button-down shirt on the floor. Grinning to myself, I pick it up and slip it on, fastening only the lower few buttons.
When I step into the kitchen, Declan glances up from the cutting board, then does a double take, heat building in his stare as he sets down the knife.
“On second thought,” he begins, his voice low as he stalks toward me, “maybe I’ll just haveyoufor dinner.” He wraps an arm around me and yanks me against him.
“You won’t hear any complaints from me.”
He kisses me, but my stomach interrupts again.
I can feel his smile against my lips. “But I’d be a terrible host if I let you go hungry.” He touches a soft kiss to my mouth, then pulls back, returning to the cutting board. “This won’t take long. I wasn’t sure what you’d like so I went with salmon since that’s what you ordered at dinner with Joshua.”
“You remember?”
He meets my gaze. “I remember everything about you.”
A tiny breath escapes at the sincerity in his voice, and I quickly look away, not wanting to get swept up in it. It doesn’t mean anything. Doesn’t change the fact that this will never go anywhere.
Instead, I take in my surroundings. I haven’t been in this townhouse since Finn moved out. Despite the furniture being mostly the same, it feels different.
The tree I helped Declan pick out sits decorated by the front window. Other than that, there’s nothing of a personal nature. Even the countertops are free of clutter. Unlike my kitchen, which is often overflowing with all of Dylan’s cookware and spices.
At the thought, I’m instantly reminded of the mess I left behind.
“I should go clean up before Dylan gets home. I’d hate for her to?—”
“Already done.”
I blink. “What?”
“I went over while you were in the shower. Don’t worry. I checked the driveway first to make sure her car wasn’t there. I put your tuna in a container and cleaned up everything else. Our secret’s safe.”
