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"You weren’t sleeping, were you?"
He doesn’t reply. He simply continues to take in every angle of my face. Without touching me, he manages to make me feel his phantom touch over my eyebrows, down my nose, under the curve of my lip.
I swallow. My pulse picks up. That familiar heat slides like honey down to the place between my thighs.
"Declan," I whisper.
He raises his hand and cups my cheek. "I’m sorry I left you like that. I’m sorry I didn’t stay in touch. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to come with me earlier. I’m sorry… so sorry, baby."
I frown. "Where’s this coming from?"
"I’m going to ask you something, and you’re not going to deny me this."
I look between his eyes. The look in them is so serious, so unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, a shiver of apprehension runs up my spine. "What is it?"
He swallows. For the first time, I sense Declan-motherfucking-Beauchamp is uncertain, and that fills me with apprehension.
"You can tell me, baby." I place my hand on his, then turn my face into his palm and kiss it. When I look back at his face, he’s shut his eyes. There are hollows under his cheekbones, and he seems to have lost weight since I last saw him. Also, when did he get here? "When did you get here?" I ask aloud, then glance around the room. "How long have I been in here?"
"You’ve been out for almost an entire day."
"Whoa." I shake my head. "Guess I was really run down, eh?"
He brings his other palm up to frame my face. "Remember, I told you I would take care of you?"
I nod.
"Clearly, I’ve been doing a shit job of it. I’ll never forgive myself for this."
"For what?" I smile a little, but when he doesn’t reciprocate, that weird sensation in my belly intensifies. "I feel fine now. All the aches and pains seem to have disappeared, and I’m sure I can be back on my feet really soon."
"There’s something you need to know, baby."
"Okay, now you’re really scaring me."
The skin around his eyes tightens. "I’ll do anything for you, Rabbit. I’d give my life up… I will give my life up, if that’s what it takes to get you back on your feet."
"Now, now. Surely, there’s no need for such a dramatic gesture, and—" I nod slowly. "Now, I see what you’re doing."
His eyebrows knit. "You do?"
"It’s that last quarter of a smutty book, when the hero realizes he’s been wrong all along—which of course, you have been—"
"Of course," he murmurs with a small smile.
He smiled. OMG, it’s a teensy smile, but still… He smiled, so things can’t be that bad, eh? "— and decides the only way to win the heroine back is to grovel. That’s what this is, right?"
"You’re right." He nods slowly. "You’re always right, baby. Only, this is notonlythe groveling—a part I have yet to master—but this is also something more I want to do for you.”
I blink. "So, this is your... Grand gesture?” Yep, reading those smutty novels has also provided me with the vocabulary to express myself.
He leans in until his nose bumps mine, until his breath intertwines with mine, and those long, thick eyelashes of his tangle with mine. Until I can make out the individual sparks in his eyes—a dizzying mix of blue and silver. Until his lips are so close, I can taste him on my palate. Until his features seem to soften and wear a look I’ve yearned to see on his face.Mine. Mine. Mine.He couldn’t proclaim it louder if he shouted it out. Funny how, sometimes, the unspoken word can be so much more powerful. And coming from a word-slut, that’s saying something.
"You could call it that. You can call it by any name, as long as”—he pushes his forehead into mine and looks deeply into my eyes—"you promise to accept it.”
67
Declan
