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I’m on the verge of coming already by the time he kneels between my legs and puts his mouth there. His tongue works me over. I’m instantly on the edge as he toys with me, nibbling and licking while he holds my thighs apart. The pleasure builds and my back arches. He keeps me down, his grip nearly bruising.
I let myself fall into it, feeling the weight of the last twenty-four hours melt away into nothing. I cry out his name as I come on his tongue and he murmurs, “That’s it, little pet.”
Exhaustion weighs down on me after I find my release. I’m tired from the long day without him and tired from the orgasm. Without much sleep, and with the bit of wine, I could sleep here on this coffee table, I could drift away right here, right now.
That’s how damn tired I am. I’m pulled into Declan’s arms and my arms wrap around his neck, holding myself as close to him as I can be. He carries me to the sofa and drapes the blanket around me, kissing my temple. His thumb tilts my chin up and his lips meet mine; at first they’re gentle, but he deepens our kiss. He takes from me in that kiss and I moan from its intensity.
When he breaks it, I’m reminded of something I confessed long ago to Amy: All I want is a man who’s going to fuck me and then hold me afterward. That’s exactly what Declan’s doing. I close my eyes and try not to think about it.
But I can feel him watching, so I open my eyes again. “What?”
“Nothing,” he whispers and then rests his head on the back of the sofa. He shifts the way he’s sitting so he can rub at his shoulder.
“Are you sore?” I wriggle up from his lap, and when I’m standing he raises his eyebrows at me. “I used to do massage. Let me.”
Declan gives me a suspicious look, but he turns over on the sofa and stretches out. With him laid out, I realize just how broad his shoulders are. Just how powerfully his body is built.
Warming my hands, I wish I had oil so I could do a better job. He’s so tight, the muscles barely loosen up. I get to work on his shoulders first. Deep, hard strokes for a deep tissue massage.
I’m rewarded with a groan I could easily become addicted to.
“Does that feel good?” I ask him, watching his eyes close. He hums a response.
Kneading his muscles, I realize just how tense he is. “Tell me if it hurts,” I murmur, but I’m not sure he hears me. He groans, and then again a minute later.
“You were a masseuse?” he questions, his tone sleepy as I work his back.
“Yeah, for a year or so … a while ago.”
“Why did you stop?” he asks and lets out another groan.
“Travis didn’t want me touching other men.” My lips turn down at the memory. “He made a scene at the spa I worked at.”
“Your ex sounds like a problem.”
“He used to be.” I speak without thinking, focusing on his shoulder. “You’re really tight here.” I’m hesitant, not wanting to hurt him, but there’s a knot that won’t give.
“Don’t stop.”
I put my hands back on his body. Declan’s melting into the couch. “I pulled it a while ago,” he says. “Tore a ligament.”
“How did you do that?”
“When I was like, seventeen I think, my brother and I were running from … I don’t know,” he tells me with his eyes closed. “Maybe ten or a dozen guys. So, very outnumbered.”
“Running from them?” I keep up the strokes, running along the lines of his muscles as they relax under my touch. “It was a deal gone wrong. They set us up.”
My hands pause as I realize what he’s telling me.
“They had their guns pulled but we took off, ran behind this row of buildings.” He swallows and as I press down along his back, stretching the muscles, his expression is so serene with his eyes closed, even if the story he tells me chills me to the bone. “There was an alley and behind it a fence. My brothers jumped first and then I was right there, but my shirt caught.”
He pulls his arm behind him, letting his finger trail down a faint scar. “I got scraped up from it pretty bad, but I was stuck. Separated my shoulder.”
Adrenaline courses through me at the thought of what he’s describing.
“You were just hanging there? With your brothers ahead and the other men behind you?” I’m grateful his eyes are still closed, because my expression must show the terror I feel for him.
“No, they didn’t go ahead. I screamed when it happened.”
“So?” I feel the blood drain from my face.
“We had guns too. We made it out, Jase got hit in the shoulder, I had my fucked-up shoulder. Carter and Daniel went around the house for weeks making fun of it, pretending to injure their shoulders so they could fit in.” A faint smile grows on his face at the memory.
