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Twelve
Declan
She was goingto hate me.
I didn’t blame her. Couldn’t, really.
None of this was her fault. It was all mine. All because of pride.
All because of my coveting something.
Two sins, but I lived my life with sins darkening every aspect of it. I didn’t care about my immortal soul. Hadn’t since she’d walked out of my world.
Pussy.
I let the word flip through my mind, but it didn’t anger me. There was no point in getting mad about the truth.
Holding out my hand for her to take, I watched her eye my fingers like they were five snakes skewered onto an orange. With distaste lining her features, she settled her hand on mine, and I barely refrained from rolling my eyes at her response.
Why?
Because, of course, the second we touched, it felt like all the years had melted away. As if we were both way too young to be fooling around, to be getting pregnant.
Her jaw tensed, so I knew she felt the shock as well, but I bypassed it and drew her toward me as we edged out of the way of the coffee table and headed to the door. It was slow going, and she was surprisingly patient. I didn’t appreciate being so fucking incapacitated, and I wouldn’t stand for it overlong. My body did what I wanted. Simple as that.
I was panting by the time we crossed the hall and made it to my bedroom. Each step I took felt arduous, but as we took a short break, it gave me time to ask her, “You hate the apartment, don’t you?”
Her hand snapped up so she could fiddle with one of those sexy studs in her ears. “What made you think that?”
My lips twitched. “You got better at lying over the years.”
“Yeah, well, that’s how life works, isn’t it? Men prefer lies to the truth,” she grumbled.
The statement had any amusement dying. “I don’t want lies between us, Aela.”
“No? You sure about that? Not sure you can handle the truth, Declan.”
“Anything you throw at me, I can handle. We’re—” I was going to say that we were stuck together. But that implied that I wasn’t happy about my status quo.
Any woman who could give you a boner after a cardiac arrest, I figured, was one worth keeping around.
And Aela didn’t just make my body hard, she fucked with my head too.
Sex had never been so good as it had been with her. Especially toward the end, when she’d let go of her nerves and had allowed me in all the way.
It had been softer than the sex I was used to now, though, and still some of the best I’d ever had.
In all honesty, I wanted a repeat.
And since we were going to get married, I didn’t see why that wasn’t doable.
I’d have to woo her. All women needed wooing. But I’d never been playing for such high stakes before. This wasn’t even about marriage. Just about playing for keeps. None of the O’Donnellys liked to lose, so I was shitty at it, and where she was concerned, the game had never been more important.
For more reasons than just the fact my son loved her, wanted what was best for her, would defend her like a good boy. He’d turn on me, not her, if I didn’t do right by her, and while I didn’t need that reasoning to be a decent man, it definitely gave me a kick in the ass.
And the way she looked in a pair of ragged jeans and a cami sure as fuck helped.
Her tits? Banging. One hundred percent. Even better than when she’d been seventeen.
