He moves closer, and my pulse spikes as I watch those massive biceps shift. "I saw you staring at me from the stands today."
So hedidsee me watching him.
"I was working," I lie.
"Mm." He studies me, a little too closely. "Funny. You were looking at me like you wanted to murder me."
"That's just my face when I look at you."
His mouth twitches. "Touché."
My pulse is hammering now, that familiar heat crawling up my neck. My lips tingle, remembering last night.
Don't. Do not do this.
"Declan, it's late. I should go."
"Probably." He takes another step. The space between us shrinks to nothing. "But I can't stop thinking about last night."
The words hit me low in the stomach, exactly where they're meant to.
"Declan—not here." I swallow hard, and the asshole just smirks. "We can't—"
"Why not?"
He reaches for me, his fingers gently tracing along my collarbone, featherlight and absolutelydevastating.
I should stop him. Should say something clever and walk away.
Instead, my eyes flutter closed, letting his touch wash over me completely.
"Open your eyes, sweetheart."
I blink slowly, and the hunger in his gaze nearly drops me to my knees.
"Tell me you don't want this," he murmurs, lips brushing where his fingers were. "Tell me to stop, and I will."
My core floods. I'm pretty sure I've never been this turned on in my entire life.
My brain scrambles for every reason to tell him to walk away.
The job. The secret. The franchise.
My whole fucking life.
But he's rightthere.
And Istillhaven't finished what I started the second I woke up this morning.
"Oh, fuck it."
I drop my bag.
And launch myself at him.
Chapter 8
Declan
