Page 64 of Seven Rules for Breaking Hearts

“What am I supposed to do while you’re gone?” I asked, dragging a sheet to cover myself.

He shrugged with his hand on the door handle, the shadow of a smile creeping across his face. “Keep yourself entertained?”

“Declan—”

But he had already slipped out the door.

I flopped back against the pillows with a frustrated groan. Was this the universe’s way of punishing me for all my wrongdoings? It sure felt like it. Jo would probably call it karma and Liv would do a tarot reading. The upside-down Ace of Wands means trouble in your sex life, the cards would probably say, though I was pretty sure they’d fail to tell me what I was supposed to do about that. I snorted at the thought, then felt weird for laughing by myself while laying naked in the middle of Declan’s hotel room.

Sooner than expected, the door opened, and Declan slipped back inside, out of breath.

“That was fast,” I said, sitting up. “Where did you go?”

“I got a condom from Peter.” He pulled it from his jean pocket, flashing the foil wrapper. “Easier than going all the way to the store.”

I raised an eyebrow as I watched him strip back out of his clothes. “You stole a condom from the soon-to-be newlyweds?”

“I’ll buy them a whole box as a thank-you.” He stepped out of his boxer briefs, tossing them aside. Then he was back on top of me, pressing warm kisses against all the places that had grown cold in his absence. First my lips, then down my neck to the space between my breasts. His tongue flicked over each nipple as he reached between us to roll on the condom.

“Oh, of course,” I mumbled in reply. “You can leave it on the gift table at the wedding.”

“No gift wrap,” he shot back, as his kisses ventured farther south. “Just a box of condoms, sitting out with all the other gifts.”

“Obviously.”

He kissed between my legs, his tongue parting me, but this time he didn’t linger there. Instead, he straightened up and knelt between my thighs. My breath caught in my throat as he positioned himself over me, grabbing me by the hips and tugging me closer. A thrill shot through me as I waited for a familiar pressure, that first mind-numbing thrust. Instead, he bent to kiss my neck again.

I released the breath in a frustrated exhale. “Stop being such a tease,” I whispered into his ear.

He straightened up just enough to look at my face. “I’ve waited years to do this.” He kissed me and I caught his bottom lip with my teeth. “I think you can handle a few minutes.”

“I can’t. I want you now.”

“Yeah?” He was as breathless as I was, his entire body pressed up against me, as close as it was possible to be without actual sex. I imagined it was taking every last bit of willpower he had to drag this little game out. “Tell me how badly.”

“You managed to get your way with the whole date thing, but there is no way you’re making me beg for you to fuck me.” But the way I squirmed against him meant my body was begging him anyway, even as I was insisting otherwise. “Let’s just say badly and leave it at that.”

He let out a husky laugh. “Good enough for me.” Then he kissed me again, tender and slow, as slow as the way he sank into me. I let out a ridiculous, desperate noise at the feel of him inside me, but he seemed to like it, because he groaned and deepened the kiss, his tongue dipping into my mouth. His hips moved against mine, both of us finding a shared rhythm. After a moment, he broke the kiss, and I tried to protest, but then he shifted onto his knees, changing the angle so that he could reach between us and draw slow circles over me again, and I forgot what I was going to say entirely.

“Is this good?” he asked, his voice thick.

It was better than good, but I wasn’t sure how I was going to let him know that, because my capacity for speech had abandoned me. My eyes fluttered and I arched into him, reaching over my head to brace my hands against the headboard. “Oh, God.”

He managed a breathless laugh, which was—somehow—indescribably sexy. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

His brow knit in concentration as he focused on thrusting while bringing me to orgasm. Pressure built up again until I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think about anything but the feel of him and the way he was touching me. I came undone, my legs tightening around his hips as fresh waves of pleasure shot through me. It seemed that was what he was holding out for, because he caught my mouth in a kiss and then his body was shuddering against mine. He moaned into my mouth, a deep and masculine sound that I wanted to swallow whole.

“Fuck,” I breathed as he collapsed on top of me. After taking a few seconds to catch his breath, he rolled over and tossed the condom in the trash. “I think we might have to shower again.”

I admired the muscles in his arm as he swiped a hand across his brow, which was damp with sweat. Still catching his breath, he turned onto his side and drew me to him. He kissed me and reached around to give my ass a squeeze. “I think we should buy more condoms.”

I laughed. “You’re shameless.”

The hand on my ass delivered a quick smack. “So you keep telling me.”

“I like it.” I searched his face for some sign that I shouldn’t say what I wanted to say next—that maybe I had read him wrong and this would end the moment the wedding was over and we went back to our separate lives. But I wasn’t even sure what that sign would be, so screw it. I went ahead and confessed. “I like you.”

Rather than respond, he studied me with a hint of a smile on his face, like I was a puzzle he was enjoying trying to solve. I started to feel a little self-conscious. “What?” I asked.