I turn to look at him, forgetting how close we are in this position. If I lean in just slightly, I could plant a kiss on the underside of his jaw. Instead, I examine the slope of his jawline, the high cheekbones where a hint of black stubble is beginning to show. His dark lashes, which are even longer than I thought, now that I can get a good look at them up close. The tiniest hint of freckles under his eyes. And there’s a scar on his nose, a faint, white line I’ve never noticed before, stretching diagonally across the bridge.
“Elsie?”
I jerk back, but Declan’s arm around my shoulder tightens, keeping me in place against his side. “Sorry,” I mutter. I tug on a loose thread on my dress, avoiding Declan’s eye.
Apparently, he doesn’t like that. He slides his free hand along my cheek and into my hair, turning my face so I’m forced to look at him. “Why are you apologizing?”
“I was staring,” I admit, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Sweetheart, you can stare at me all you want. In case you haven’t noticed, I can’t keep my eyesormy hands off you.” To emphasize his point, he tugs lightly on my hair and I swear to god, I nearly moan. Something on my face must give it away, because Declan’s eyes darken slightly.
“That’s not why I brought you out here,” he chuckles. “I just wanted to check in. Make sure we’re good.”
“We’re good,” I confirm.
I don’t know ifgoodis the word I’d use. More like confused. Aroused. Exhilarated. Nervous. Horny.
All of the above.
“Good,” Declan says, untangling his hand from my hair and placing it back on his thigh. I think he’s going to leave it at that, which is why I’m surprised when he asks, “Will you have dinner with me?”
My pulse immediately kicks into a sprint. I try to get a read on his face, but I can’t tell if he actuallywantsto go out with me, or if he just feels guilty after our hookup.
“You don’t have to –” I start to protest, but he cuts me off.
“I want to.”
I snap my mouth shut. “Oh.”
“Oh?” That amused, infuriating smirk tugs one side of his mouth up, and I find myself wanting to lean in and kiss it right off of him. To give his mouth something better to do.
I think I surprise both of us when I do just that. I lay a hand on his stubbled cheek and I lean in, kissing him before I can talk myself out of it. His lips meet mine hungrily, and I can almost taste his surprise.
It’s not lost on me that every time we’ve kissed so far (three times, but who’s counting?), I’ve been the one to initiate it. It’s unlike me. I’ve never been the one to make the first move. For some reason, I can’t help myself when it comes to Declan. I’m drawn to him in a way I don’t understand, and maybe I don’t really want to.
I nip at his bottom lip, the way I wanted to months ago when we barely knew each other and this same smirk would get me all riled up. I think Grace and Olivia were right when they said it was all the pent-up sexual tension between us.
When Declan groans and pulls me closer, all thoughts of my friends – all thoughts in general – flee my brain. Our tongues meet at the same moment he grabs my waist, lifting me and settling me over his hips so that I’m straddling him. When I sink lower and feel his hard length against me, I gasp into the kiss.
“Fuck,” Declan groans against my lips. He pulls back slightly. “I swear this isn’t why I brought you out here. I was trying to be a gentleman and ask you out on a date.”
A date. The words flash around my brain in neon letters, an alert that changes everything I thought I knew.
I kiss him again to hide my smile, but of course, he notices. He pulls back and his eyes zero in on my mouth, cataloging my grin like a keepsake he wants to save and pull out at a later time. “I want more of these,” he murmurs, reaching up to trace a finger across my lips.
“More of what?” The thoughts in my head are scattered, little bits and fragments that don’t quite fit together the way they should. I can’t think of things like words and complete sentences while I’m sitting in Declan’s lap.
Instead of answering, he leans in to plant a soft kiss along my jaw. He lingers for a moment, just breathing me in, and I relish in his nearness. He smells like cedar and something a bit medicinal, like maybe the soap they use in the shop, or a disinfectant. When he pulls back, the soft smile on his face nearly breaks my heart. It’s such a contrast from the mask he’s usually wearing, the face he shows the rest of the world. In the months since we met, I’ve only seen this look on his face once before.
Yesterday, inside the greenhouse, when he looked at me like he was maybe a little bit in awe.
Declan is not, by default, a gentle man. He’s harsh lines and edges, sarcastic words and cocky smirks. A bit grumpy, at least to other people. It’s a heady thing, knowing I bring out a side of him that no one else gets to see.
“You never answered my question,” he points out. His hands flex on my hips and I lock my legs in place. It would be too easy to slide forward and create some friction between us. With my thin dressand panties, I don’t think it would take long to chase an orgasm like this.
“What question?” I ask, though I know exactly what he’s talking about. The worddateis still ping-ponging around my head, unable to be ignored.
Looking into my eyes like he’s hoping to find the answer there, he asks, “Will you go out with me?”
