Declan laughs softly. “Glad we agree.”
We’re quiet as we lay together, but it doesn’t feel stilted or awkward. It’s comfortable, a gentle weight settled over us like a warm blanket. It doesn’t take long, though, before my hand is stroking idly down his muscled stomach, and his erection presses against the leg I’ve thrown over him.
When I move my leg and take him in my hand, he hisses out a breath. “Don’t you have to leave soon?” he asks.
“I do,” I confirm.
But I don’t want to. I want to stay here with Declan, just like this. I want to make him come again. I want him to makemecome again. I want to watch in the mirror as he loses himself inside me, our bodies joining in a way that feels like it was inevitable, a predetermined fate that clicked into place the moment we met.
In the end, I decide to send a text in the Carmichael family group chat, telling them I’m not feeling well and planning to stay in bed for the rest of the evening. I blame it on the weather, explaining that I got caught in the rain earlier this afternoon and haven’t felt quite right ever since.
It’s not even technically a lie.
Which is why, when I find myself straddling Declan a short time later, sinking down onto his cock while I grip his shoulders, I don’t even feel bad about it.
Not one bit.
CHAPTER 31
Declan
“Christ almighty,” Pops curses. He scowls at me where I sit hunched over his lower leg, putting the finishing touches on his tattoo. I hadn’t expected him to actually follow through on it, even after he called me Monday to see if I had any gaps in my schedule this week to fit him in.
“I expected better from you, old man.” I shake my head in fake disappointment, taking a moment to wipe the excess ink from his skin. “Thought you were tougher than this.”
“Not all of us are masochists like you,” he grumbles, eyeing my tattooed forearms. “You’ve got so many you probably don’t even feel the needle anymore.”
“Oh, I feel it,” I assure him. “I’m just not as delicate as you are.”
“Delicate!” Pops barks. “You hear that?” he says, turning to Sean, who’s working on a small design on the inside of his client’s wrist. I’m pretty sure she’s asleep in the chair, which is absolutely insane, even by my standards. Despite Pops’ assumptions, I very much stillfeel the needle each time I get some new ink. It’s gotten easier over the years, sure, but you won’t find me nodding off in the chair while someone’s jabbing a needle into my skin repeatedly.
“He thinks I’m delicate,” Pops scoffs.
“One time Declan had to take a break and walk around the block in the middle of getting a tattoo,” Sean says, lowering his voice as if I can’t still hear him.
“Hey,” I protest. “That was a big fucking tattoo.”
“Language, son,” Pops scolds. As if he hasn’t heard at least thirty-five curse words since sitting down in my chair an hour and a half ago. I’d taken a longer lunch break than usual this afternoon to show my mother and grandparents the shop and my apartment, then we took a walk around town. We’d split ways after that, Pops and I heading back to the shop to get his new ink while Sasha and Gran went for coffee and to look around the souvenir shops. Gran wants to pick up some gifts for her friends back home in Virginia.
“Has your family met Elsie yet?” Maya asks on her way past my station. She has a lull in customers so she’s doing some housekeeping, sweeping the floor and wiping down the front desk area.
“Elsie,” Pops repeats, studying my face. I can feel his gaze on me, though I don’t look up. I’m almost finished with shading, the final touch on his pinup design. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
“She owns the shop next door,” Sean supplies helpfully, tipping his head toward the big window across the room. We all look over, watching as Elsie and Noah work side-by-side at the big table near the window. Elsie makes quick work snipping stems before handing them over to Noah, who’s arranging a bunch of white and pink blooms into a bouquet.
“The one you went on the date with,” Pops says, snapping his fingers. “I almost forgot. Hey, how did it go?”
“Fine,” I lie.
It was a hell of a lot better thanfine,but I don’t think my grandfather needs to hear that we spent the entire afternoon and early evening with my cock buried inside her. What started as rough, frantic fucking turned to slow, lazy sex by dinnertime. For dinner we ate leftovers from our picnic in bed while we watched some romcom from the nineties I already forgot the name of.
It was fucking perfect.
“Fine,” Maya mocks, rolling her eyes. “They’ve been making moon eyes at each other ever since. They’re so sweet, I’m going to get a cavity if I have to keep watching them.”
She’s being dramatic. I think everyone had just gotten so used to us being at each other’s throats – or more accurately, Elsie being atmythroat while I took whatever attention she deemed to give me – that us being, well,normalis throwing everyone off.
Although normal is the last thing I feel. I woke up early on Monday and realized I hadn’t asked her for a second date before leaving her house. I fucking panicked, worrying that she’d think my goal was to get into her pants and now that I’d succeeded, I didn’t want to go on another date.
