****
I don’t know exactly how it happened. I hadn’t had more than one or two drinks, and yet, an hour later, I was standing outside Declan’s motel room while he unlocked the door with steady fingers. How his hands weren’t shaking was even more perplexing; mine were tremoring so much that the vibrations continued right up my arms.
But I could still back out. I could turn around and walk away.
The great thing about living in a town so small was I didn’t even need to wait for a cab; my house wasn’t more than a ten-minute walk down the road. But as he opened the door, my feet carried me inside without conscious thought.
Or maybe it wasn’t so unconscious. I wanted this, didn’t I?
I’d wanted Declan since I was old enough to know what went on between a man and a woman behind closed doors. And in that moment, he was right there for the taking.
So, I didn’t resist when he wrapped his arms around me and pressed me up against the door. I reached for him, wrapping my arms around his neck as I pulled him closer to my mouth.
I wanted to taste him, to feel the warm heat of his lips. I’d kissed him once years ago in a last-ditch effort to make him want me, but he’d stood there rigid, his hands clenched at his sides and his lips closed. But in that moment, his hands were busy exploring my body, grazing over my bare back and my hips, cupping my ass. His tongue was already plying against the seam of my lips. I opened and he slid inside, his tongue moving in an intimate way that spoke of what was to come.
His hands continued to move, and within seconds, he pulled away, just long enough to pull my shirt over my head. When I lifted my arms to aid in the process, he stopped, leaving the fabric wrapped around my wrists. The smile on his face made me shiver with wanting and I clenched my thighs against the tidal wave of arousal that left me aching to be filled.
He must have caught sight of the movement because he laughed low in his throat and leaned in, pressing his thigh between my legs. I resisted the urge to rub against him, but he distracted me a moment later, using his free hand to expertly unhook the clasp of my bra between my breasts in one quick move.
Leaving his thigh where it was, he leaned the rest of his body back, his gaze sweeping over the bare flesh he’d just revealed. “God, you’re beautiful, Sarah,” he whispered huskily, and a new thrill rushed through my body.
Declan Ross thought I was beautiful. The fiery gleam in his eyes and the way his breath had started to come faster told me he wasn’t just sweet-talking me into his bed; he’d meant what he’d said.
Before I could respond, he swooped down and suckled a nipple into his mouth and a tiny cry escaped my lips at the unexpected wave of sensation. He continued to suck, nip and nibble until I wondered if it might actually be possible to reach orgasm from this alone.
I reached for him, fumbling with the fly of his jeans. I wanted to see him naked, to see the chiseled muscle of his body and feel his flesh beneath my fingers. I’d wanted it for so long, an old ache sprung up in recollection of it. I wanted to see him the same way dozens—probably hundreds—of women had seen him when it had only been theory and fantasy to me.
No.
I dropped my hands to my sides. This should stop. I turned my body away from him, my nipple freed from his mouth with the movement.
This wasn’t what I wanted.
“Declan, I can’t do this,” I told him bluntly, though a voice in the back of my head was screaming at me for passing up what I’d wanted for so long.
He met my gaze and I almost caved; the heat in his eyes was mesmerizing. “We’re two consenting adults, Sarah. Of course, you can do this.”
“I really can’t. I’m sorry, I thought I could, but I can’t. I have to go,” I told him in stilted sentences.
He shifted his stance, his thigh no longer pressed intimately between my own, and as much as I wanted to pull him back, I used the shift to slip away from the wall, reaching blindly for my shirt on the floor. He was silent as I slipped it on and hurried to the door. I decided not to chance a glance in his direction, so speaking to the door, I mumbled another apology and slipped outside before I could change my mind.
I proceeded to chastise myself the entire way home. I was right there, so close to getting what my teenage-self had dreamed about for years. And then I’d run out of there like Declan was the plague.
But the thing was, I wasn’t a kid anymore. I knew exactly what kind of guy he was. At least, I knew what kind of guy he used to be, and I somehow doubted much had changed in that department. He was the man who had a different woman on his arm—and in his bed—every night.
I wasn’t opposed to casual sex. Hell, weekend flings and one-night-stands pretty much summed up my love life. I’d never wanted more than what a brief physical encounter with a man could provide. But this wasn’t just any man, was it? And I refused to be just another notch on the bedpost of a guy who’d occupied my mind completely once upon a time. I’d rather live with the regret of never having, than the heartbreak from watching what I had walk away…again.
It was like money, wasn’t it? I’d never had much, so I couldn’t miss the rich life. But if I’d had a fortune and lost it all, well, I imagined that would hurt much more. So, that was the end of it. Declan would be gone soon and I likely wouldn’t see him again for another decade. And it was best that way.