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“How are you feeling?”
Confused. Conflicted. Like I should be dragging you down to the police station, but I’d rather take you to my bed. He wet his lips. “Fine.”
“You didn’t hit your head? He didn’t inject you with anything? You feel normal?” Her hands moved to his ears, pinching across the edges of them as if testing for lumps, then patted down his neck, her thumbs brushing over his lymph nodes. It shouldn’t have been erotic, but his dick was confused. “Huh?” She looked at him pointedly, and he struggled to follow her questions.
“Inject me with anything? No. Why would he inject me with anything?”
She removed her hands and he resisted the urge to step closer to her. Fuck, Nate was right. It had been too long since he’d been with a woman. That was the only explanation for why he wasn’t running in the other direction from this girl. What had Nate compared him to? A creepy, quiet ghoul. He delivered his best charming smile to combat the image.
She glared at him. “You have to be more careful.”
She was weird. Adorably so. And gorgeous. Nate had been right. How had Declan never noticed that? Then again, he’d never been so close to her before, had never interacted with her, or seen the cute little way her face scrunched up when she was perturbed.
A car drove by, rap music thumping, and she glanced at the street, then pushed him farther from the curb, shoving him back until his shoulders hit the brick building. The aggression was hot and he let her maneuver him, his hands gently settling on her hips. It was the perfect blend of ingredients for a kiss, and he dropped his head, seeking out her lips.
“What are you doing?” She swatted away his hands. “Oh my God, is it this dress? First that guy, and now you?” She leaned forward, sniffing the air. “Are you drunk?”
“A little?” The comparison to that tattooed asshole was alarming, and he leaned against the wall, critically re-examining his actions. “I’m sorry. I read you wrong. I thought—” I thought that since you’ve stalked me for the last six months, that you had some sort of a crush on me. Apparently, you’re just fucking crazy. He swallowed the intended words and let the sentence hang.
She didn’t let it go. “You thought… What?”
Fuck it. “You’ve been stalking me. I assumed you had a romantic fixation on me. So, I thought you’d like it if I kissed you.” It had sounded much better in his head. Less cocky and more debonair.
“Oh my God…” She flexed her hands, like little T-Rex claws, her eyes pinched shut, and he had a pretty good idea that she was envisioning his balls in those hands, a visualization that made him shift uncomfortably. “You…” Her eyes opened. “You’re…” She looked away, visibly stumped.
“I’m… right?” He guessed.
“No.” She shook her head violently, her blonde hair swinging. “But I do understand how you might have been confused over the occasional times you may have seen me before.”
“The occasional times I may have seen you before…” He shook his head. “Wow. That’s an interesting way to put it.”
She fell silent, and he waited for her to offer an explanation, something other than her romantic obsession with him, which, apparently, didn’t exist.
“Okay,” she countered. “I admit, I follow you around.”
“Uh, yeah. I know. Everyone within five blocks of my office knows. There are photos of you at the security desk of our building.”
She blew out an irritated breath. “I just… worry about you.”
Worry about him? This was interesting. He readjusted his stance against the building. “In what way?”
She looked away, and it was the first glimpse of her vulnerability. A vulnerability that made him even more interested in whatever it was she was about to say. She sighed. “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”
“I hate to break it to you, but that boat sailed a long time ago.” He smiled to soften the blow and she caught the gesture, her own lips turning ruefully up at the corners.
She laughed and clamped her hand over her mouth to stop the sound. “Oh my God,” she moaned. “You do. You think I’m crazy.” She pivoted, coming to stand beside him, and leaned back against the brick, mirroring his position. “It’s okay. My sister thinks I’m crazy too.”
“Because…?”
She groaned, dropping her head in her hands. “Do you remember—” she stopped. “Of course you remember.” She turned to meet his eyes, and she really was beautiful. Someone like Nate would have found her too small. He liked curvy women as tall as he was. But for Declan, she was perfect. Soft and beautiful. Delicate yet strong. Feminine. Irresistible.
And … crazy, he reminded himself. Batshit crazy.
“You know the night of the crash? The plane crash?”
He nodded, unsurprised that she was aware of it. It had been all over the news, their neighborhood swarmed by national news vans, crime scene tape and gawkers. It’d been weeks before you could even drive down Lake Drive without going through a three-ring circus of coverage.
