I can’t remember the last time I slept that well.
Actually, that’s not entirely true. I can.
Boston. After the night I spent with Declan.
I fight against a smile, but it still tugs at my lips anyway. It must be the effect of his magical penis, as he so eloquently put it. And God help me, he’s not wrong. The things he made me feel… I didn’t think I’d ever experience them again.
I’m so lost in my thoughts of last night that I’m barely paying attention where I’m going. So much so that I don’t notice the slick patch of ice on the sidewalk until it’s too late.
The world tilts, and I reach for something to prevent me from falling, but there’s nothing to grab on to. I brace myself to hit the sidewalk.
But it never comes.
Instead, a pair of strong hands clamp around my hips, yanking me back against a solid chest. My breath whooshes from my lungs, and a familiar scent hits me. Citrus. Wood. Spice.
I dart my head up, and Declan’s eyes lock on mine, a faint smile curving his mouth.
“Hey.” His voice is low, rough, and far too sensual for eight in the morning.
“Hey.” My reply comes out breathy.
“Hey,” he repeats, softer this time. Like he’s testing how it feels between us.
“Hey,” I say again, too transfixed by the feel of his hands on my body to come up with a single coherent thought.
I should step back. Put distance between us. But my body isn’t interested in logic. It’s greedy for his touch. For the steady weight of his fingers splayed at my hips. He doesn’t appear to be in any hurry to let go, either, his gaze tracing over my face, pausing on my lips in a way that makes my stomach flip.
I dart my tongue out to moisten them, and I swear his grip on me tightens.
But before the moment veers off into dangerous territory, a baby starts wailing somewhere down the block, breaking the spell. I push out of his hold, smoothing a tendril of hair behind my ear.
“Thanks,” I say, trying for casual. “If you hadn’t caught me, my ass would be all black and blue.”
“You mean evenmoreblack and blue?” he murmurs.
Heat blooms low in my belly, vivid flashes of how ravenous he was for me after dinner last night flickering through my mind. His teeth clamped on my neck. His bruising grip on my hips. The sharp crack of his palm against my ass.
He’d warned me I’d need my energy for what he’d had planned.
He wasn’t wrong.
The things he did. The things he made me feel. The pleasure I experienced.
And by the heat in his gaze, I know he’s thinking about the same thing.
“Well… Thanks again,” I manage, turning from him and continuing toward Bean & Bloom.
“Going to get coffee?” he asks, falling into step beside me.
“I am.”
“I’ll walk with you. I’m headed there, too.”
Part of me wants to say no, too worried what people might think. But it’s not like we planned this. We’re just two people headed to the same place walking together. Nothing wrong with that. Or so I tell my guilty conscience.
The wind nips at my cheeks as we walk through downtown Sycamore Falls. Garland twists around every lamppost, strings of lights still twinkling faintly against the pale morning sky.
“It’s beautiful,” Declan says, glancing around. “Like something straight out of a Christmas card. You’re lucky you grew up somewhere like this.”
