So maybe he does think he’s in charge. “Playing is my favorite part. Don’t ruin it for me,” I murmur. Thanks to the soft glow of the lamp on my desk, I can see the lines of strain on his face. The tightness of his jaw and the desire in his eyes. I want to break him a little bit, just like he broke me.
Sliding off his lap, I drop to my knees and pull him into my mouth, drawing him in and out to the rhythm of the pumping bass in the club, muffled back here but still strong. His shout isn’t quiet. I want to hear it again. I want more of his hands digging frantically through my hair.
I’ve just hit my stride, driving him wild, when with a snarl, he pulls me back and up into his lap. I’m panting, about to complain, when his fingers spear into me. His satisfied murmur when he finds me soaked makes my breath hitch.
He pulls away, holding me with one arm as he grabs his wallet, pulls out a condom, then chucks his wallet at the wall like a major league pitcher. I lean my head back, laughing, as he fumbles between us.
My laughter cuts off with a moan when he lines us up and presses in. It’s been a while, and I’m tight, but the man is a sweet talker, whispering in my ear to let him in, and before I know it, I do. I give an experimental wiggle, and Declan’s arms clamp around me.
“Wait. Just wait,” he breathes.”I’ve never felt anything as good as you.” I tighten my hands around his neck because that’s the best thing anyone has ever said to me, and just breathe with him. It’s not weird or awkward. We just…look at each other, connected. It’s the closest I’ve ever felt to anyone. Then his eyes darken and his voice lowers in a way that arcs fire to my core. “You played. Now it’s my turn.”
He thinks he can boss me around in my own club? I give another wiggle just to fuck with him. The stinging slap on my ass makes me clench, and we both moan.
“I want your shirt off. Now. Show me those pretty breasts.”
Ok, he can be the boss.
I shimmy out of my tight lace top. His hands are there, unsnapping my bra, and then his mouth is on me. It’s so good. He can do whatever he wants with me as long as he keeps making me feel this good.
We’re heaving breaths and frantic hips. My body’s wetness makes sounds that would be embarrassing if we weren’t both frantic. We’re sweating, sliding, and all I can think about is chasing the next wave. When it crashes over me, I let it take me, falling limply against Declan. Unable to hold my position.
He stops for just a second, separating us, then I’m on my back, legs splayed as he pushes back in. His thrusts are making the waves come harder, faster. I throw my hands back, clutching the arm of the couch above my head, and hang on for the ride. Then he’s shuddering, groaning, pressing me down, grinding into me in the perfect spot to light me up again.
When I finally catch my breath. When I can see again, I realize I’m fucked. It’s official. There has never, in the history of the planet, been sex this good. Never.
“I hope you know,” I mumble, staring at the ceiling as he presses soft kisses on my chest, “that you’re never getting rid of me now. I’ll expect you to service me daily, twice a day on the weekends. Minimum. You’re my boy toy now.”
“Oh. My,” he says dryly. “How ever will I survive?”
I want this forever. The laughter. The teasing. The man who looks at me like I’m the whole world. We haven’t said it yet. But it’s there, between us. It’s early. We’ve come together in weeks. But it’s also been three years in the making.
This is love.
But we have time. There’s no panic to say the words. Not yet.
I believe it. All weekend. In his bed. In mine. On the floor and in the kitchen. I believe it.
I believe it when we walk into work on Monday morning holding hands. I believe it when we laugh over Colton getting locked out of the building.
But when the cops show up for me with handcuffs at lunch, I realize I was a fool.
39
CARA
H e’s been sneaking kisses all morning like he can’t get enough of me. Leaving his office, casually walking down the hall towards me, then ducking in to kiss me senseless. Ransom’s caught him twice, just rolling his eyes and walking the other way. We’ve officially been outed to most of the brothers, and none of them have made a big deal out of it.
After the weekend we just spent together, I need that connection too. Going from being within a couple of feet of each other all weekend—most of that time naked and pressed up against each other — to this distance is dumb. I want more of him, always.
I’m still laughing, sliding my feet into my shoes to go grab some lunch, when I hear the whispers. Always ready for good gossip, I pop out of my chair to see what’s going on. It’s stupid, I know, but never in a million years would I have guessed I’d see the group of five police officers led by that fucking D.A. walking toward me. I vaguely register Ransom’s large presence next to me, but I can’t take my eyes off the uniformed men.
His hand spreads on my back. “They have a fucking warrant. We had to let them up. It’s complete bullshit Cara, and I will not let this stand.”
The smarmy D.A.’s eyes bounce between us, looking gleeful. A good person would look subdued when they’re about to destroy someone’s life, but not him. But the boys already told me he’s not a good guy. So did my gut every time I talked to him.
The group stops in the hallway, blocking Ransom and me in my office.
“I warned you this was coming, Cara.” The D.A. says with a sneer. The way he says my name sends panic down my spine. The filth coating his words makes that tiny spot of dread that’s been living in my stomach for more than a month grow like one of those foam toys in the capsules, the ones that you put in water and you get a sea creature in a couple of hours. “You’re hereby under arrest for manslaughter.”
