Wasted Time (The Steel City #1)

15. Penny

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

penny

I rush into the bedroom without looking back, my heart hammering in my chest. I can’t look back because if he’s looking at me, if his eyes show me what I know they will, I’ll turn right back around and do something we both cannot come back from.

I shut the door quickly, like it will protect me from the fog of desire creeping in between us. I press my forehead against it, my hand still gripping the knob, and I inhale a deep, shaking breath.

What the fuck?

What the fuck?

It’s Declan. Declan! So, why is my heart racing so fast? Why can’t I catch my breath? Why was I desperate to know what his lips felt like? Why did his compliments stir up that familiar want that had been neglected for years in my body?

Why did I want to bury my face into his chest and sob because of the way he looked at me?

The last time I saw him I wanted to slap him.

“Shit,” I whisper .

Maybe if I slam my head against the door hard enough, my brain will fix whatever short-circuited inside of it tonight.

I hear him mulling about on the other side of the door. The cupboards are being opened and closed; bottles are clinking together as they’re tossed in the trash. I hear him dragging his feet around the suite as he cleans the mess we made.

Then, the lights flicker off under the crack of the door, and I’m in complete darkness.

Silence slips through the night.

I still haven’t moved.

I haven’t moved because I don’t want to take a step closer to that bed. Not alone.

But… it's Declan.

I painted him as the villain months ago, and now I’m not thinking straight because he is acting like the damn hero in my story. I want him to be the hero, I want him to act this way instead of how he has been. But we’re friends. I want to stay his friend. Tonight proved that I can’t lose him.

It’s Declan.

Declan, who took care of me all night. Declan, who spun me around an empty dance floor and screamed Aerosmith at the top of his lungs. Declan, who told me I was beautiful, and who made me feel seen for the first time in almost a decade, all after I removed him from my life for trying to protect me.

Before I can think, I’m twisting the doorknob and leaving the room. My heart is pounding so loud that I can hear it in my ears. I’m going to lose my nerve halfway across the room. I know it.

That’ll be for the best. I shouldn’t be doing this anyway.

But still, I tip-toe across the tiled floor.

I make it to the kitchen and slow, peering through the darkness. This suite feels like an obstacle course. Like there are one thousand barriers keeping me from making this mistake. I reach forward, skimming my hand against the edge of the counter.

Well, that was close.

Two big hands stop me short on my shoulders.

I suck in a breath.

Declan’s fingertips slowly trail up my body, gliding across my collarbone to my neck. His touch is soft, maybe a little weary, but there is the lingering feeling of submission. As his hold stops under my jaw, and when he tilts my head upward in the dark, I know that I’m right. That’s as far as his touch will go until I decide to let down the last of the walls that I’ve kept up around me.

My eyes are still adjusting, so I can’t see the details of his face, but I can feel him everywhere.

I reach up to touch his forearms.

“I thought you went to bed,” I whisper.

“I thought you went to bed,” he says, his voice deep and quiet.

“I…” I start, trying to formulate an excuse, but he’s touching me, and I can’t think.

“I tried to go to bed, but I just wound up pacing around the room. I was about to stand outside of your door like an idiot.”

A huff of a laugh leaves me, and I know he can feel me trembling under his touch. There’s nothing funny about this. This is terrifying.

“What do you want, Pen?” he whispers, and I feel his breath on my cheek. My eyes flutter shut. “You’re in control. I don’t want to overstep. I need to know what you want.”

“Declan,” I whisper, my grip tightening on his wrists. “This is a bad idea. We’re drunk and I just had my heart broken. There is no worse reason for us to be here right now.”

“We’re drunk, and you’re beautiful, and you haven’t been shown how beautiful you are in a very long time,” he corrects, pressing his lips to my temple. “I want to make you feel good. If you want that.”

My body is acting without listening to my mind. I arch my back, leaning into him as his hands travel down my body, drifting lower and lower until his fingers glide against the swell of my backside. He lingers there for a second but then seems to change his mind. Instead, he wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me closer.

My breath hitches.

I sigh at the feeling of our bodies pressed completely together. I haven’t even kissed him and I’m putty for him. My god, thousands of women would kill to be in my position right now. I’m considering not going through with this?

“Nothing will change,” he whispers, and this time, he’s close enough for me to feel his breath on my lips. His nose brushes mine. “But I intend to wipe every inch of him from your memory, if you’ll let me.”

A beat of silence pulses between us.

It’s Declan .

I reach up, wrapping my hands around the nape of his neck, burying my fingers in that thick, dark hair. It’s softer than I imagined it to be, smoother. Silkier. Dreamier. He swears under his breath as my nails gently brush his scalp, and the sound is so sweet that I nearly beg for him right then.

I feel his eyes on me, even in the darkness. Waiting, hoping, burning.

My god. I’m burning, too.

Doing this might be wrong, but I clearly have a history of doing the wrong thing for myself. Getting into a relationship with the wrong man. Moving away from home. Sacrificing my happiness for him. Making excuses for someone who tore out my heart and stomped on it .

I clearly don’t know how to make the right decisions for myself. Why start now?

I peer up at him through my lashes. The air between us is thick, hanging onto the weight of this moment. Will we, or won’t we? Either way, everything will change from this point forward, no matter what Declan says to convince himself otherwise.

We’ve stepped over the line, stomped on it, smothered it, and erased it completely. The line is gone. Everything is blurred and uncertain. We’re standing in uncharted territory.

He wants to make me feel good.

He wants to wipe Gavin from my head and my heart, at least for one night.

Maybe I need him wiped. Maybe, I need to feel wanted by someone. I need to jump into the deep end, not hyperfixate on the shallow water that I’ve been living in for years.

My fingers glide through his hair again. Declan’s grip tightens on my waist in a silent request.

I can barely find my voice when I finally whisper just inches from his mouth.

He wants to erase my ex-boyfriend from my skin and my mind?

“Prove it.”

In a second, his hand is buried in the back of my hair. He’s hauling me up to his mouth, his lips crashing to mine with expert direction despite being engulfed by shadows. It’s like no matter how the world turns, I have inexplicably become his axis. He knows exactly where I am, even in the darkness.

Oh.

Oh.

His lips are soft. Everything about Declan is always sturdy, strong, and impenetrable—but not this. This is fleeting, desperate, and yearning. All things that Declan has never been, never allowed himself to be.

I can’t think of anything but his mouth. That’s what consumes my mind in those first moments of the kiss. The feeling of the press of his lips against mine. The slow, smooth way he kisses me with it.

I am a goner.

I can’t think or breathe or regret a single touch. It could end here, right now, and I’d be on cloud nine.

He’s a good kisser. Of course he’s a good kisser. Is there anything he’s bad at?

No, is the answer.

There never has been.

His tongue brushes against my lips, a request for permission. I’m already lost in him, so I let him in. I want it. I want more, if it is humanly possible for him to give that to me. This feels like a tidal wave that’s coming quickly, ready to pull me under, unforgiving and unrelenting.

I welcome it.

The groan he spills into my mouth makes me press myself against him. I never want to stop kissing him, never want a moment where I have to miss his mouth. One hand is splayed on my back, and the other is buried in my hair as if it would pain him to let me go.

I need more. There’s too much distance, even with every inch of us touching. It’s not enough.

I wind my arms tighter around his neck in a lethal grip and Declan laughs against my mouth. He pulls away, just enough to start guiding us backward toward his room, smiling that arrogant smile against my lips. The lips that he’s permanently left his mark on.

Then, he’s kissing me again, consuming me, lighting me on fire until I’m fully ablaze. We knock a stool over, but neither of us stops to fix it. We crash into a wall, sending a photo to the floor, but it doesn’t matter because Declan’s fumbling with the doorknob and now we’re in his room.

He pries his lips from mine, slowly resting his forehead against my own.

There’s dim light illuminating us from one of his bedside lamps.His eyes are burning into mine, illuminating me.

We catch our breath for a second, focused on nothing but each other. There’s a warning in this silence. A fighting chance for either of us to put a stop to this. We can choose to put an end to it now, before this goes too far.

If I’m burning myself, I might as well burn myself all the way to the ground.

I wrap my hands in the fabric of his shirt and force him back to my mouth. That was far too many seconds without his lips on mine.

The sweet, breathy laugh that leaves him again makes my stomach swoop. Declan gives me the luxury of one slow kiss, somehow more sensual than the rest, our mouths memorizing each curve and dip of the others.

When he pulls away, I slowly open my eyes.

“There she is,” he says, his fingers slipping under the hem of my blouse. “There’s my Lucky.”

My Lucky? I hate that I like the sound of that coming from that mouth. The possessiveness. The claim that it suggests he has over me. I hate the way it makes my stomach dip like a trap door has just opened under my feet and I’m free-falling.

He slowly gathers the material of my blouse and pulls it over my head. I help him as much as I can, lifting my arms and tugging my head through. A few buttons snap and fling against the wall, but I cannot possibly find the will to care.

I’m suddenly exposed. The air is cold on my torso, but not once do I move to cover myself .

Declan sucks in a breath at the sight of my black lace bra. He reaches up quickly to slide his fingers along the fabric. He looks transfixed. In awe. His eyes darken, throat bobbing with a heavy swallow.

I can’t help but cock a brow.

A big, bad professional hockey star who has had more women in his bed than people I’ve met, and a pair of boobs still renders him speechless?

He shakes his head in disbelief. His fingers slowly drift down my torso. A line of goosebumps follows in the wake of that featherlight touch until he reaches the band of my pants.

His eyes snap to mine. I give him a nod of permission.

He gently pulls my bottoms over my hips, bending downward to tug them to my feet, pausing at the sight of my matching black underwear. He shakes his head with a laugh and rests his forehead against my lower stomach.

“You’re killing me, P.”

I run my hands through his hair because I’m growing to love the feeling of my fingers there.

“I promise, it’s purely coincidental.”

He laughs again, pausing between my thighs.

I hold my breath, my fingers resting against his scalp.

Declan leans forward until I can feel the heat of his breath through the thin fabric between us. He places a kiss just above the band of my underwear, a lingering one that makes my brain trail off and think of all the things that might follow such a simple movement.

I suck in a shaky breath.

His attention travels downward. It’s the exact spot that I want him in, without the underwear between us.

He pauses for a moment, and I hold my breath, dragging my fingers against his head .

Please.

He leans in slowly and parts me through the fabric with an expert swipe of his tongue. It’s impossible not to melt at the feeling. My brain goes to mush within seconds, my vision getting all blurry at the sides. I arch into him, gripping his hair by the root with a gentle tug.

Oh fuck.

Okay, I might not survive this.

He grins against me, happy that he garnered such a quick reaction. He swirls his tongue in a grueling, slow motion that feels way too good to be his first move. Happy to continue, he applies more pressure, his movements agonizing and teasing but so, so good.

I waver on my feet, sucking in another sharp breath. His beard scratches the inside of my thighs, which I try to focus on, so I don’t lose it completely so quickly. I can feel his eyes on me, watching and studying, but I can’t look down.

I know if I do, I’m done for.

This is all while there is a barrier between us. One thin piece of fabric is all that is keeping his mouth from my body. I’m almost a puddle, and he hasn’t even really touched me yet.

“Mm,” he mutters when he pulls away, pressing another chaste kiss just above my panties. “Sweet. That’s fitting.”

I glance down at him, eyes a bit wild and breathing a bit heavy. What the hell is he talking about? My brain isn’t working properly at the moment, so he could be speaking an entirely different language.

“The last name,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around the back of my thighs and resting his chin against my lower stomach. He flashes a grin up at me, pleased with that witty remark.

I tug on his hair impatiently, forcing him back to his feet. There is a clear imbalance here right now, and he’s going to milk this until I’m begging if I don’t change it .

Declan stands, that smile turning wicked and utterly arrogant. He knows he’s good at this. Knows he’s got me by the panties right now. He steps closer, hands sliding around my hips to the top of my ass. God, there’s something about this man’s hands sliding against my body that makes me lose all sense of composure.

“You don’t have to waste your breath using your lines on me,” I grumble, ignoring those dimples that poke out of his cheeks as his smile widens. My eyes flicker downward. “You’re far too clothed right now.”

He cocks a dark brow. His hands slide up my back, gathering me close. “Is that right?”

My hands trail up his very muscular, very clothed chest. I glare up at him. “That’s right.”

With a smug look, Declan reaches behind his back. He doesn’t break eye contact when he yanks his shirt over his head in the way that men do which is far too hot for absolutely no reason.

I can’t help it, my gaze lowers. It tracks every inch of that shirt as it exposes every inch of his body.

A groan of disbelief bursts through me, and I roll my eyes before I can help it.

“What?” he asks, tossing his shirt to the chair near the window.

He’s perfectly sculpted, because of course he is. The swell of his bicep has me starving for a taste of it, like I suddenly need to know what it would feel like to sink my teeth into the muscle. That’s not normal, right? His arm is turning me on? Is this break-up brain?

His chest is firm, carved out by dedicated time both in the gym and on the ice. It’s criminal that someone who looks like this wears clothes in public. It’s a disservice to the rest of us. I’ve already counted eight abs, which is ridiculous .

It’s the hair trailing on his stomach that somehow makes me desperate to touch him. The dark trail of it between his pecs, too. I find myself reaching for him, gripping the waistband of his pants to trail my thumb up the skin just above his button.

Declan hisses above me.

I peer up at him, giving him a cold look, even though I’m fueled with nothing but heat. “I cannot believe you look like this.”

He cocks a brow.

“I can’t believe you look like that,” he counters, gesturing to my boobs.

I slide my fingers along the button of his pants, unbuttoning it. He stops breathing altogether as I make quick work of his zipper, sliding it down until I can get these off him. I pull his pants down his muscular thighs, feeling every ridge of his legs as I do.

My god, his legs are even hotter than the rest of him. Quads perfectly sculpted, calves showing muscles that I wasn’t even aware existed. The sleeve of black and gray tattoos on his left leg gets some extra attention. As my hands tug his pants downward, I don’t miss how nice his ass is either. Then again, he’s always had a butt. A nice one. It used to bother me when he complained about it as if every girl wouldn’t die to have one like that—but now, I’m grateful.

There. How festive. I’m thankful for Declan’s muscular, round ass on this tragic Friendsgiving.

I straighten, peering up at him despite wanting to explore what else he has to offer. There are only a couple of thin pieces of material between us now. We’re on an even playing field again. I step toward him, pressing my palm to the front of his black briefs. He’s hard under my touch, and he’s big.

Because of course he is .

I run my thumb up and down his length. Meeting his eyes just as they glaze over. He’s devouring me with his gaze, undressing me with his eyes. Even though I’m almost naked already, I know it’s the other layers he’s pulling back. The scary ones. The ones that lead to my heart.

Nobody has ever looked at me the way that he is now.

“Last chance to back out,” I tell him, and I mean it.

Once we go too far, our relationship will never be the same. He can act like nothing will change all he wants, but I’m not stupid. I’m not a twenty-year-old girl with a na?ve heart anymore. Sex changes things.

“You’d have to kill me,” he grumbles, leaning down and smashing his mouth to mine.

I’m taken by surprise, so my hand leaves his underwear. Declan grips my waist, his fingers digging into my skin. In one, swift move, he pushes us forward and has me on my back on the bed.

I scramble backward to get to the pillows, burying my fingers in his hair when he crawls on top of me. I force his mouth back to mine the second he’s within reach.

Declan is no longer patient, and he is no longer gentle. His tongue slides into my mouth, not bothering to waste a moment on polite courtesies and tentative touches. We both know I want this.

And just like that, he consumes me. He lights me on fire from the inside out and I’m burning and wanting and falling into whatever this is.

As much as I hate to admit it, he’s totally in control here. I can think of nothing but his mouth until his hands are trailing down my neck, over my breasts, exploring me like I’m a piece of art that he’s been desperate to collect. He pulls my bra down, his hands exploring my exposed skin .

I let out a breathy moan at the feeling and he smiles against my mouth.

Reactions, he likes reactions.

Great, I’ll give him more.

“Beautiful,” he whispers against my lips. He slides down my body, taking my breast into his mouth.

Okay, good with his mouth in other ways, too. Add that to his list of many talents.

I shut my eyes, desperate for more . Of what? I’m not sure. Anything Declan has to offer will do.

His hazel eyes flicker up to mine as he removes his mouth from my body. I stare down at him, fingers gliding down to the nape of his neck. My touch has gone soft as we watch each other. His gets more firm, more desperate to keep me here, in the moment.

I’m melting. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.

“You’re going to come on my tongue before I allow myself the reward of being buried inside of you. Sound good?”

Well, okay then.

I nod hurriedly.

Good? Sounds fanfuckingtastic.

I watch through heavy lids as he trails kisses down my stomach, all leading him to the spot I want him most. His lips are sinful, soft and gentle, even when his tongue glides against my skin in the most wicked of ways.

The second he reaches the top of my underwear, he stops, and for a moment—I fear he’s changing his mind. If we stop now, I’m going to need to take care of this myself, and that sounds like the worst punishment on the planet.

Instead, his fingers hook under the side of the lacy material. His throat bobs, eyes locked onto my body. With a slow, almost tortured sweep of his hand, he pulls the fabric to one side.

Exposed now, I hold my breath. I can’t look away from his face.

Declan’s tongue sweeps against his bottom lip. He slowly spreads me with his fingers, and my head falls to the pillows, my lungs collapsing.

He groans. Declan Lowes groans at what he sees.

“Fuck,” he whispers, and I find the courage to meet his eyes again. His gaze is molten, daring to look up at me for a fraction of a second before he focuses his attention on my body again. “If this is my last meal, I want you to know—I died a happy man.”

A laugh breaks through my chest, but it’s at that moment that Declan lowers his head and brings his mouth exactly where I need it with an expert stroke of his tongue. My laugh turns into a whine—a sound so pathetic I want to smother myself, but oh my god.

He finds the sweet spot within seconds, not needing any direction. His arms hook under my thighs, yanking me even closer to his face. I gasp as my whole body trembles. His fingers stroke the skin of my hips to calm me, his tongue moving in slow, precise strokes at an unholy pressure.

I don’t know how he got it right the first time. Men usually have to be trained. Declan is hitting all the right motions as if he’s been in my head for ten years.

“Oh my god,” I moan, arching my back off the bed. He lets out a low noise of satisfaction.

My hand goes to his hair, sliding against his scalp.

He seems to like that. He swirls his tongue around me slowly, fingers digging into my hips every time my hands tug at his dark strands. He keeps the right pace, and doesn’t go too fast now that he knows I’m enjoying it. He makes no move to rush this and change what is clearly working.

I’m going to die with his face between my legs .

I move against his face—desperate for release. He sucks again, pinning me down to the mattress with one hand on my stomach so he can work.

“Holy shit,” I whine, rocking against his mouth.

He presses his tongue flat and does this wonderous thing that keeps the pressure while also increasing his movements. Another sharp gasp leaves me, and his grip tightens on my legs.

I open my eyes, my brow furrowed and mouth agape.

When I see his eyes burning into my face, when I see the lust in his gaze, mesmerized by my pleasure, I lose it. My hand tightens in his hair, pulling, and I explode. I fall against the pillows, release crashing through me, hips rocking against that gorgeous mouth of his.

He doesn’t stop, not even when my moans turn panicked and I’m sure I can’t take anymore. I grip his hair and tug, angling my body away from him, but he holds me in place.

“One more,” he growls. “Give me one more.”

“I want you,” I whimper, my grip loosening in his hair.

His tongue swipes through me, and I arch into him despite myself. I’m over sensitive but I can feel another orgasm on the brink and I’m chasing it.

“You’ll have me,” he mumbles, holding me down. “You give me this first, alright? One more, and I’ll fuck you.”

Yeah, that sounds good.

My eyes flutter shut again, and he resumes his work. In seconds, I’m crying out and gripping the sheets, riding out my release against his face for the second time tonight. This time, I am breathless and exhausted, clinging to whatever I can to survive the second wave as it overtakes me.

This time, he relents when I calm. He kisses my inner thighs softly, retreating to his knees.

I catch my breath against the pillows, my chest rising and falling heavily. I stare at the ceiling. A twisted form of clarity hits me then, a realization of where I am and where I’ve been. How the hell did I get here? How was I in bed with my long-term boyfriend just a day ago, and now I’m in bed with one of my very best friends?

I’m not complaining. Not when he just did that. Twice!

I feel all sorts of lost right now and coming down from this high is a bit too overwhelming.

Fingers curl around my chin, pulling my face back to him. To the moment. Declan studies my face carefully, dark hair falling in front of his. “You okay?”

I nod, offering a soft smile as I lean into his touch. God, it has never felt like this.

“I really need you, Dec.”

His lips tug upward. He opens his palm and slides it against my cheek. “Greedy girl.”

I won’t beg him, but I kind of feel like considering it. I need this man to be buried inside of me more than I’ve ever needed any form of physical interaction in my life. I need to feel him everywhere. I need to know what he sounds like when he finishes. His mouth wasn’t enough.

Since we’re already crossing all the lines and sinning, we might as well go all of the way to hell.

Declan leans down, gently brushing his lips against mine. His movements change, softer now. He smiles each time I kiss him first, just a small push of my mouth because he keeps his face so close. My heart feels so heavy, and I reckon this is what it feels like when you realize things could be more than friendship.

By his movements, I can tell that he is stroking himself between our bodies. That’s enough to bring on a fresh wave of desire .

“I need to grab a condom from my bag,” he says against my mouth.

I nearly whimper. That’s a sensical answer—he should do that. Even if I don’t want him to remove his weight from my body. He feels good there, like he belongs there. Like he should stay.

I nod quickly, pressing my mouth to his again. This one lingers, and he reaches up to cup my jaw just in time for me to pull away.

“Two seconds,” he promises.

He slides off the bed, and I immediately yearn for his presence against my body again. It’s not even a want. It’s a carnal need. I don’t want to let him go too far, not even five steps to his bag. That’s not good. Not when morning will eventually rear its ugly head.

The tearing of the condom packet brings me back to reality, forcing me away from thoughts of our imminent future. Within seconds, Declan is climbing back on the bed.

He settles between my legs, tugging at his cock gently. I can’t help but watch, taking my bottom lip between my teeth. He’s fucking hot. You’d have to be delirious to disagree. All toned muscles, tattoos, and dark, thick hair. A woman’s wet dream.

His ab muscles constrict, his bicep bulging as he strokes himself. His eyes meet mine, and I have decided if I die like this, I will also be okay with this being my last moment. It’s the sexiest thing I have ever seen.

I always knew that he was good looking. I have eyes. But in the bedroom—he is the most exquisite and tempting masterpiece that I have ever seen. It feels like if I touch him, alarms will go off. Like I shouldn’t be allowed to run my hands down his chest and legs.

But I am. And I will .

His strokes slow, his face morphing into something like consideration—maybe hesitancy. He drops one hand to my hip, thumb brushing my skin.

“We don’t have to?—”

“Shut up,” I hiss, scrambling upward to pull him back to my lips.

He breaks into laughter as I deepen the kiss and just like that, the humour evaporates into lust. My heart slams against my chest, against his too, the press of him so foreign but so welcomed. I’m already memorizing him. I’m learning the map of his body with each brush of my fingers and sweep of his mouth.

Something about this feels like it was inevitable.

It’s hard not to feel guilty. Nobody else has touched me in almost a decade. In a weird, twisted way, it feels as though I share every inch of my body and being with Gavin. It feels like the parts of me that Declan is touching belong to Gavin and that I’m betraying him by allowing foreign fingers to skim my skin.

My heart tears a bit in my chest, bringing on a quick, snap of pain. I keep my eyes closed as Declan kisses me like he’s already had me memorized for years. I bury my fingers in his hair, holding him to me so that he can’t pull away and see me unraveling.

He’d stop. I know he would. I don’t want him to.

There is a piece of me that needs to replace the memory of Gavin’s touch, the weight of him, the recollection of his mouth against my own. I need to unwind his existence from mine and learn to live with only the strands of me left behind.

I need to be able to close my eyes, to think of intimacy, and not automatically think of Gavin.

Declan’s mouth leaves mine and I whimper at the loss of contact. I keep my eyes shut, even as he places lingering kisses down my jaw and throat. He takes his time. He cherishes my body and focuses on every detail of this moment as if it’s fleeting and will soon be out of his grasp.

We both know that it will.

When Gavin?—

No .

Stop thinking about him.

“Spread your legs for me,” Declan grumbles, pulling himself upward. He rests both of his hands on the sides of my hips and gently nudges me open with his knees.

Again, I find myself bare, open, and exposed to someone who isn’t Gavin. Physically, yes, but I also bared my soul to Declan tonight in a way that I haven’t done with anyone in the past. Ever.

I feel like I’m cheating, but I’m not. I keep reminding myself of that in my head. I don’t want to go back to Gavin, even if he came back and told me everything that I want to hear. I’m free. I can do whatever I want with my body and my heart, and this feels too good to stop.

Declan’s eyes slide downward as he pumps himself in his hand.

“Fucking beautiful, Pen.”

He lifts his eyes to my face, and I hope he can’t see any of the emotion burning behind mine. His words hit me in the heart. They heal a tiny patch of something that was destroyed many years ago.

I want this.

It helps that this will also carve a clear line in the sand, putting Gavin behind me. It makes it easier to never go back.

I want to let a man worship me and desire me simply because he wants to, not because he has to.

And my god, I need that man to be Declan.

Declan leans forward on his knees, pressing himself to my entrance. I suck in a breath of anticipation, arching my back off the mattress at the immediate stretch of him. We keep our gazes locked, nothing further needing to be said. We’re giving each other this moment. We’re surrendering.

Declan pushes in, slow and deep, and in one fluid motion, he’s buried inside of me.

The low moans that leave both our throats have my skin erupting in goosebumps. I suck in a breath, my eyes fluttering shut, adjusting to the size of him. His body is pressed tight against mine, unmoving as we both try to keep our composure, and nothing has ever felt like this.

My head rolls to the side of the pillow, my body already desperate for movement.

“None of that,” he mumbles, gripping my chin with his hand. He turns my head back to face him. “Look at me.”

I nod against his hold, angling my head to press my lips to his fingers. I meet his eyes, my eyelids heavy and my heart fighting against the whiplash. Declan’s face softens at whatever he sees on my own, and he lowers himself to press his lips to mine. At the same time, he pushes in deeper. His lips slip from mine as he lets out a low groan.

Nothing has ever felt like this.

His movements are careful, deep, and so fucking hot to watch that I can’t think. He bottoms out again, his hips pressing completely into mine. I gasp against his mouth, clinging to his arms as he pulls back again.

Declan presses his forehead against mine, mouth hanging open, eyes burning into my own. He watches me, watches what he does to me. He studies every reaction, every breath, every grip of my fingers in his forearms and he adapts.

He pushes inside of me again, changing the angle of his hips just slightly.

I moan, my nails digging into his skin. My head falls back as he does it again. Slow and deep and exactly where I need him.

“There?” he asks, his voice gravelly.

“Yeah,” I practically whine. “Right there.”

“Mm,” he mumbles, his hand finding the side of my face again as he keeps his pace steady. He turns my head, refusing to let me drift elsewhere. “Right here. Stay right here. With me.”

I know what he means. I know how well he knows me and my mind. My heart aches at everything that came before this, but I nod against his hand.

I’m here.

With him.

“You feel so good,” I whimper, pressing my mouth to the heel of his hand. The noises coming out of me are unforgivable. I gently bite his skin to keep from crying out.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Me? Penny, you feel like nothing I’ve ever fucking felt before.”

And I’m not going to last. I can feel my orgasm racing toward me, even though we’re fucking at a tormentingly slow pace.

“Oh my god,” I moan, rocking my hips up against his, desperate for him to be even deeper.

“That’s it,” he says quietly, hand dropping beside my head. He doesn’t have to guide me to stay in the moment anymore. I am focused on his face and how he looks while he pushes inside of me, and I’m lost to the world.

“Dec,” I whimper. I’m not going to last much longer.

Gavin is no longer even a thought.

“I know, baby. I’m close, too,” he grunts out.

I nod at him frantically.

His eyes are locked on my face. His expression is full of heat and torment, and I can’t think too much into it because I am not ready to know what that means.

“God, that face. I could come just by watching you.”

My mouth hangs open, my brow furrowed. I’m not even able to focus on what he’s saying, but I know it’s bringing me closer and closer to the edge. My head is spinning, my body chasing his, my orgasm inching closer and closer with each snap of his hips.

“ Dec .”

He nods, and I can tell he’s almost there.

“Kiss me? Please.”

He doesn’t hesitate. Declan leans downward, slowly pressing his mouth to mine. It’s torturous, and emotional, and I can’t describe just how much it messes with my head as he spills into the condom, groaning into my mouth—my back arching off the bed as I tighten around him and follow right behind.

I’m fucked.