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“You really want to go back in there and keep flirting with him?” he asked, looking dejected.
My heart broke. I hated this game I was playing.
“I haven’t planned anything. I don’t want to fuck him, no. But at the same time, if I did, I’d have a moral right to.”
His indigo eyes reflected a hint of torment or, strangely, like when he was about to climax.
Everything about him echoed of sex.
I couldn’t allow my fucking vagina to control me.
No matter how hot and swollen he made me.
“You’re right,” he said at last.
He was about to walk away.
Shit.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“I’m going home. I’m tired. I don’t like games, Theadora.” He paused and again looked deep into my eyes. “I think I’m in love with you.”
He walked away and left me standing there. My jaw wide open. My heart racing like mad.
In love? With me?
I paced about in the dark. The salt air sobered me up after what had been a boozy night.
Declan Lovechilde in love with me?
Or was he only really in lust with me?
And me. What did I feel?
I didn’t even know how to love when all I’d done was hate for most of my life.
My brain went into meltdown. I couldn’t go back in the pub. Not now.
I was embarrassed by what had happened inside. If anything, Declan had shown everyone that he’d come to claim me.
Everyone watched. Dressed as though he’d been at a dinner party, which he had been, he’d stood out. He’d stand out in charity shop clothes. Beautiful people always did.
My phone beeped.
“I meant it.” Was his message.
Tears streamed down my cheeks.
I called Lucy.
“Hey, sweetie,” she said. “How’s your gorgeous billionaire going?”
“Oh, Lucy.” I poured my heart out, relaying what had happened, while sobbing through my words. “What should I do?”
“He told you he loved you. Fuck, Thea, isn’t that enough?”
“I don’t know. It’s probably lust.”
