“Are you sure this is what you want?” I rasp as I press her against the wall, my chest heaving.
“You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want you to be.” Her reply is breathless. Eager. Wanton.
My gaze drops to her mouth, then the rapid rise and fall of her chest. The way she looks at me rips away the last layer of control I’ve been clinging to.
Still, I try.
“I’m too old for you.”
“Age is just a number.” She smirks, hoisting herself on her toes, her lips so close to mine. “Why should we deprive ourselves of this because of a few years between us?”
“It’s more than just a few years, Claire.”
“You’re attracted to me, aren’t you?” she says in a husky voice that completely undoes me, especially when it’s accompanied by her fingertips trailing down my chest, stopping just shy of my belt.
My cock throbs even more.
“God, yes,” I exhale.
She leans in again, her lips barely an inch from mine. “And I’m ridiculously attracted to you. So stop overthinking this, Declan. One night. That’s all this is.”
“One night,” I repeat.
Her lips part, as if about to offer me more promises or assurances. But I don’t need them. I just need her.
Without wasting another second, I crush my mouth against hers.
CHAPTER FOUR
CLAIRE
There’snothing gentle about the way Declan kisses. It’s hungry. Commanding. Like a man starved who’s finally taking what he’s been denying himself for far too long. And God, I feel it.
Every inch of me sparks to life under his touch. I don’t even care about the needy whimpers that fall from my throat or the fact that my breath might taste like the lobster roll I had for dinner.
All I care about is this.
Him.
The way his mouth moves over mine. Like he’s lost all control and doesn’t care if he takes me down with him.
My fingers tangle in the fabric of his shirt, clutching it like I need something to anchor me to this world. To him. My skin buzzes where his body brushes mine, all hard lines and heat, his hand gripping my hip as if he doesn’t want to let go.
And I don’t want him to.
He tastes like whiskey and lust and something darker. Something that coils low in my belly and makes my thighs clench.
This isn’t me.
I don’t do this.
I don’t invite strangers into my room. Don’t flirt with men at hotel bars. Don’t kiss men I barely know, especially ones I’ll never see again.
But there’s something about Declan that’s been undoing me from the moment I laid eyes on him. As if some part of me recognizes something in him. Something bruised and jagged and aching.
Like me.
And if this kiss is any indication, surrendering to him might be the best bad decision I’ve ever made.
