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Water droplets trickle down inches of pale muscle before disappearing into a white towel wrapped around his narrow waist. He has V-cut abdominal muscles that point like an arrow to an area I sure as hell should not be thinking about right now. An area that only proves Declan is well-endowed even when not aroused.
Warmth pools deep in my belly. My eyes give him another once-over, and my hands itch to reach out and trace the slab of muscle also known as his stomach.
This can’t be happening to me.My eyes snap up toward his face, hoping he missed my temporary lapse of sanity.
He raises a brow at me in silent anticipation.
Oh my God. He knows that you like what you see.
I try to think up a response, but my throat feels dry suddenly.
“You wanted my help?” He stops in front of me.
His help! Right!
“I can’t reach the buttons.” My voice is far breathier than I’m proud of. Given our argument in the car, I could at least pretend to be disgruntled in his presence.
Declan circles around me like a predator. His muscles shift with each step, and I’m surprised my tongue doesn’t roll out of my mouth like a dog as I pant after him.
He drags my wild hair over my shoulder, and goosebumps spread across my skin.
That shouldnotbe happening.
Anyone with eyes would be attracted to a set of abs. It’s evolution beckoning us to choose a mate who can provide for us.
Provide what? Endless stamina and orgasms?I reply.
“There have to be a hundred of them.” He tugs me out of my thoughts, and for that, I am eternally grateful.
A laugh escapes me before I have a chance to stop it. “Hundred and twenty according to Nana.”
He grunts. “Come inside so I can see them better in the light.”
The invitation is innocent, but my body doesn’t seem to get the memo as Declan ushers me into his room and toward the light on his nightstand.
“Let me go put some clothes on.”
Please don’t.
Whatever expression I have on my face makes the corners of his lips lift.
“I’ll be back in a second.” He walks toward his closet, only to look over his shoulder at the last second.
My cheeks burn from being caught ogling him.
He raises a brow. “It’s rude to stare.”
“Then don’t walk around naked to begin with. Problem solved.”Atta girl.
He shakes his head and enters his closet without sparing me another glance.
I take a moment to observe the personal objects on his nightstand. A worn copy ofThe Great Gatsbyhas five different sticky notes protruding from the yellowed pages, neatly lined up next to a remote control for his TV. My eyes widen at the small cactus I bought him two years ago as a Christmas gift.
“Oh my God. It’s still alive?” I reach out and grab the tinydon’t be a prickpot.
“I can manage to take care of a cactus.”
I startle at the sound of his voice. “But it’s been two years!” And he keeps it on hisnightstand. I don’t have the nerve to ask him why that is, although the urge rides me hard.
