Declan leans against the counter, slouching with far too much grace. I’m aware, even though I don’t look at him, and my affected poise is crumbling before his silence and his knowing gaze. I skip every third breath, my body is tight, my nipples are aching. Even breathing the same air as him is turning me on again, heat pooling where I don’t want it.
I really hate this guy.
“I brought you breakfast,” he murmurs.
I blink. “What? It’s 7 p.m..”
“Twenty after.”
“Whatever.”
“I meant last Saturday. I brought you breakfast, but you’d left already.”
That doesn’t make any sense.
“Bullshit,” I hiss, conscious of the silence in the main room. “You left at half pastfive, and I didn’t leave for anothertwo hours. What did you do, break into a restaurant and cook it?”
“I went for a walk,” he replies, way too goddamn calm.
“You went for a…” I trail off, hold a hand up between us, take a long,longbreath, and let it out real slow. “Yourbikewas missing, asshole. Did you go for a walk on—” I cut myself off short and shake my head. “You know what? I don’t even care.”
“I missed you,” he says.
Hemissedme?
“How dare youmissme!” It’s getting harder to keep my voice low. “You’re the one wholeft.I’mthe one whowoke upand found you fuckinggone.”
“I wouldn’t have, if—” He cuts himself off, grimaces, looks away.
“Ifwhat? If I’d beenbetter? If I’d—”
“No.” His eyes snap to mine. “Better?Hellno.” He leans an inch closer, voice so low it pulls at me. “You were fuckingamazing.”
It’s just words,I tell myself.He’s saying it because Kurt’s offered him a job. He doesn’tmeanit.
“Ifwhat, then, Declan?” I whisper through my anger. “Tell me what reason you had for getting out of my bed at five thirty in the goddamn morning,and not coming back?”
“It…” He pauses, clenches his jaw. “…was a mistake.”
“A mistake?” I stare at him. “Amistake?” I prod him in the chest, hard enough I know it had to hurt. He doesn’t react, muscles firm beneath my fingers.Note to self: no touching.“You want to know how bad a fuckingmistakeit was?”
He grabs my hand, faster than he has any right to move, and holds it flat against his T-shirt. I can feel his heart beating, slow and even. Mine’s racing.
“It was the worst mistake I’ve made since I joined the Marines instead of keeping up with my racing,” he admits.
I don’t know what to say to that. My mouth is hanging open; I close it.
He steps forward, into my space,stillholding my hand against him. He’s so close, I have to look up to see his face.
“I should’ve done what I wanted to,” he murmurs.
Not going to ask. Not going to ask. Not going to ask.
“What did you want to do?”
“Wake you up with round two.” His voice is quiet, but I still can’t help my glance into the room. No one in there is talking, they’re all straining to listen. I wonder if they can hear my blush; it’s loud enough in my ears. “Wake you up with my tongue between your legs, or by pinning you face-down into the bed and easing into you from behind.”
Holy. Fuck.
