“You’re just in time.” Declan beams at me from the dining nook as I walk into the apartment and shut the door behind me. “I made dinner.” He gestures to the table and the pizza box sitting atop it like some kind of deranged Vanna White impersonator, making me laugh despite my exhausted state.
“Thank you.” I set my keys on the table and plop down in a chair. “I’m starving,” I say, grabbing a slice.
I’ve damn near inhaled my food by the time I notice the dark gray shirt on the table. The design on the front catches my eye.
Does that say “Whitmore and Son Gymnasium?”
Frowning, I wipe off my hands and hold it up. Sure enough, in white, block lettering, is the name of Declan’s gym. It’s curved around an Irish flag-colored shamrock, with a muscular, cartoon Irishman in the center. The back of the shirt says “Fightin’ Irish, Fightin’ Proud, Since 1963.”
I almost forgot that Declan’s great-grandparents were fresh off the boat from Ireland.
“You had new gym shirts made?” I ask with a mouthful of half-eaten food, like a true lady.
Declan cracks a smile at my garbled question. “Yeah,” he says, walking over to the fridge. “What do you think?”
“I love them.” And I think our customers will too.
He brings a Coke back to the table, along with a beer for himself, and holds it out to me. “Wait,” he says, abruptly pulling it back. “You’re not supposed to have caffeine.”
Rolling my eyes, I snatch the can from him. “It’s fine in moderation. You’d know that if you read past the first chapter of that pregnancy book I bought.”
Declan twists the cap off his beer and takes the seat next to me. “You’re mean when you’re hungry, you know that?”
My middle finger pops up as I tilt the can back and drain half of its contents in one long gulp. Then after swallowing and burping as discreetly as I can—because hello, I’m a lady—I say, “According to you, I’m just mean in general.” Setting the drink down, I pick up another slice of pizza and bite off a chunk of delicious, cheesy goodness. “And loud, and disagreeable.” I glare at Declan as he laughs and leans over, kissing the sensitive spot just under my ear.
“And pretty, and perfect, and very, very kissable,” he murmurs against my neck, making me shiver.
I swallow the pizza in my mouth, though my appetite for food seems to have disappeared. A new hunger is slowly taking its place. “You forgot ‘loveable.’”
Damn. A couple of smooth words and teasing touches from this boy and my voice is all husky and come-hither.
I can feel his smile against my skin, along with the little vibration from his chuckle. “And loveable.”
Turning to face him, I glance down at his lips before meeting his eyes. “Say it.”
Pools of emerald and jade stare back at me, mesmerizing me with the amount of emotion shining through. Those green eyes of his are so damn expressive, and I love his ability to tell me every single thing he’s feeling with just a look.
But I also love to hear him say it. I love to hear him say lots of things with that mouth of his. . .
“I love you.” A faint, cocky grin makes the skin around Declan’s eyes crinkle as he leans in and touches his forehead to mine. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” Pulling back, he brings my hand up to his mouth and kisses it. “Better?”
Ugh, this boy. What did I ever do to deserve him?
I watch his tattooed hands clasp mine as his lips brush against my knuckles in the softest, sweetest of kisses, and it elicits a contented sigh from me. “Yes.”
The side of Declan’s mouth hitches up before he gives my hand one last kiss. “Good. Now eat. You’re still too damn skinny.”
Four slices later, and I’m stuffed. I pat my stomach and groan, sinking down into my seat. “Oh my god, how did I eat almost a whole pizza by myself?”
Declan shrugs. “You’re eating for two now, and one of them’s a Whitmore. You’d better get used to eating like a linebacker, Kitten.”
I hold my hand up as he tips back the rest of his beer. “Okay, first off, he’s like the size of a pea, so I can’t really blame him for this,” I say, gesturing to the two remaining slices of pizza. “And secondly, we don’t even know that he’s a he. He could be a she.”
“If we’re gonna have a she, I’d much prefer that she’s a she, instead of him trying to be a she. Seems too complicated, and kids are hard enough as it is.”
I bite my lip, trying not to grin at his stupid joke. “You know what I mean, smartass.”
“Yeah, I do.” Declan’s smile right now is small and secretive, like he’s privy to something no one else knows.
It’s suspicious as hell and has my brows knitting together as I stare at him. “What?”
Small and secretive turns into full-on dimples and a flash of teeth as he grins and leans forward, taking my face in his hands. His lips melt against mine, soft and warm, yet demanding and hot.
When he finally pulls back, I’m light-headed and breathless. “What was that for?” I lick my lips, still able to taste him and feel him. I don’t think my toes will ever uncurl, and that’s perfectly fine by me.
He shrugs like it was no big deal—like he didn’t just give me a kiss that rocked my world. “That’s the kiss I should’ve given you when you walked in the door.”
I place my hand over my sputtering heart, and it makes his dimples deepen.
“Flippin’ crazy?” he asks, his voice hopeful.
“Flippin’ crazy,” I tell him, pulling him back for round two.
But instead of kissing me—really kissing me—Declan presses his lips to my forehead in a quick peck and stands, avoiding eye contact as he gathers our plates. “You must be exhausted,” he says, walking everything to the trashcan.
I slump back into my chair, disappointed but not surprised. Ever since he discovered the true depths of my fucked-up past three weeks ago, he’s kept his distance.
Well, sexually, at least. When we sleep at night, he’s wrapped around me tighter than John Goodman in spandex. And aside from one awkward, frustrating attempt at sex—when he kept asking me every five seconds if I was okay—he hasn’t touched me since.
My vagina’s starting to take it personally.
I sigh and rub my forehead. “I am.”
He leans against the counter, crossing his arms as he frowns at me. “You should be taking it easy.” His statement’s directed at me, but it’s almost like he’s coming to some sort of realization as he says it. “Maybe you shouldn’t be working at the gym anymore.”
“What? No,” I say, hauling my tired, achy ass up out of my chair to stand in front of him. “We decided that I’d stay until classes start in January, remember? I’m not leaving yet.” I need something to do until then. I can’t just sit around and watch TV all day while Declan trains and works. I have to feel like I’m contributing too.
Declan gets this smug look as he pushes himself away from the counter. “Sorry, Kitten, but that decision’s not really yours to make. As the owner, I say whether or not you work at my gym, not you.”
My chin juts out as he passes me. Hasn’t he learned by now that he can’t tell me what to do? “You can’t fire me,” I tell him, crossing my arms as I match his smug look with my own. “I have it in writing.”
He pauses and turns around. “You’re right, I can’t. But I can suspend you until oh, say, January twelfth.”
That’s the first day of the spring semester. Otherwise known as the day after I was planning to quit, since I want to put all my focus and energy into school.
My eyes narrow on him. “You wouldn’t.”
His brows lift, silently telling me to try him.
“You’re an asshole,” I huff, pushing past him to head down the hall toward our room.
He calls out my name, and I answer him by slamming the door shut.
I pull off my work shirt and shrug out of my bra, tossing them both in the hamper. Then I yank open the top drawer of the dresser, making the whole thing shake, and snatch up one of Declan’s plain white tees. I’m just about to put it on when he walks in.
“Babe—”
“No,” I hiss through clenched teeth, whipping him with his shirt repeatedly. “Don’t you dare ‘babe’ or ‘Kitten’ me right now!”
At first he raises his arms, trying to fend off my blows, but then he just rests his hands on his hips, taking every hit with a clenched jaw and pissed-off expression. When I finally lose some of my steam, his jaw twitches as his nostrils flare. “Are you done throwing your little tantrum, or would you like to continue?”
I shove at his chest, but he doesn’t even budge an inch. He’s built as solid as a brick wall, and right now I hate that my body takes notice of his firm muscles beneath my fingers. I want to rage and scream because I’m so fucking pissed at him, but damn it if my poor, neglected libido doesn’t send desire rippling through me instead.
Breathing heavily, I point at him in warning. “I swear to God if you use that condescending tone on me again, I can’t be held responsible for what I do.”
Declan holds his arms out wide, daring me to take another shot. “I can stand here all night and take whatever you throw my way, Savannah. It’s not gonna change my mind. The gym’s mine, and so are you.” He points to his chest and steps toward me. “I’m responsible for keeping you and the baby safe, and I take that job very fucking seriously. If you don’t like it, that’s too fucking bad. You’re just gonna have to learn to live with it, because I will always protect what’s mine and there’s not a goddamn thing you can do about it.”
His harsh, yet passionate declaration melts my anger, along with my panties.
Why is it so hot when he goes all caveman on me?
We’re almost chest-to-chest at this point, and he’s breathing just as heavily as I am. He subtly licks his lower lip as his eyes flick down to my hardened nipples—my exposed hardened nipples.
Whoops. I forgot I was topless.
Declan’s hand rests on my hip, pulling me closer, while his eyes remain glued to my breasts. His fingers dig into my side as his gaze darkens with desire, his anger slowly giving way to the lust I see building inside him. “Do they still hurt?” he asks gruffly.
His thumb begins tracing a small circle along my hip. It’s clearly a subconscious substitution for my nipple, so I arch into him, urging him to touch it.
I swallow, feeling myself growing wetter with every breath. “A little.” It actually hurts more that he’s not touching them. They feel heavy, achy, and tight with anticipation. If he’d just hurry up and touch them, they’d feel infinitely better.
Growing impatient, I start to undo his fly.
Declan grabs my wrist. “Don’t,” he says, looking torn. “I don’t trust myself not to be rough with you right now. It’s been too long and you’ve got me all wound up. I’m barely holdin’ on.”
I stand up on my tiptoes and press a soft kiss to his unyielding mouth, breathing against him, “Then let go. Be rough. Pull my hair and slap my ass, Declan. I won’t break.” His hold loosens as his resolve wavers, so I take the opportunity to fist the front of his shirt with my left hand and rub his cock through his jeans with my right. “I want you to fuck me,” I enunciate against his mouth, flicking my tongue out at the end to lick his lip.
Declan groans, and I know I’ve got him. We’re about to douse this dry spell.
Right as I finish undoing his fly, heavy metal blares from his pocket. Now I’m the one groaning, and not in a good way.
He curses under his breath and pulls his phone out.
“Can’t it wait?” I sound like a petulant child, but I don’t care. I need this. We both do.
Declan frowns and swipes his thumb across the screen. Holding the phone up to his ear, he says, “What’s up?”
I hear a deep voice on the other end of the line, but I can’t tell who it is or what they’re saying. It can’t be good, judging by the sudden tension in Declan’s shoulders and the deepening crease between his furrowed brows.
He exhales a long, slow breath. “Shit.” Declan squeezes the back of his neck as the voice continues.
I’m racking my brain trying to figure out what could possibly have him so distressed. Did something happen to Blake? Or Marcus?
Oh, God.
My chest tightens at the thought, and I try to tell myself not to get carried away just yet.
Declan clears his throat before saying, “Yeah, I’ll be there. Just—” He swallows. “Just give me a few minutes.”
He hangs up and stares down at his phone. “That was Blake. My dad’s in the hospital with pneumonia. He’s, uh. . .he’s dying.”