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“Some asshole named Toby wants to stick his dick in you.” His voice is so low, so deep and filled with rage, I can’t even respond. “Do you even know him? He could be some creep. You clearly met him online, judging by the way he was asking to meet up with you.”
He read the messages. “It’s not your business,” I repeat. I tug my hand to get away, but he yanks me closer.
I topple off the stool, right into his hard chest. My heart beats so fast that I’m about to overheat. He brushes the hair from my face. “What if he rapes you, Samira? What if he hurts you? Murders you?”
“It’s whatever,” I snap. “I wasn’t going to meet any of them.”
“Them?” He drags a hand through his hair. “There’smultiple?” he grits out through clenched teeth.
Declan releases me, and I bring it to my chest, rubbing the feel of his rough hand away. I push away the fuzzy feeling in my stomach. Why does this turn me on? Why am I into how possessive a man I barely know is? How overbearing he is?
“I was just bored, okay?” Why am I defending myself? I don’t owe this man anything. Yet here I am, defending my reckless actions.
“Fuck.” He sucks air through his teeth. “What are you doing to me?”
I could ask you the same thing.
I don’t move when he drops his forehead against my shoulder. It should unsettle me, but it’s not. There’s a familiar feeling of wanting this, of feeling safe despite his intense need to claim me as his. A finger runs along the small of my back, lower until his hand cups my ass over my pleated skirt.
“Declan,” I whisper, not sure that I’m ready for more.
“You say you want me to stop, but I know how wet you were the other night in the club.”
I close my eyes. “Wanting you and being able to have sex with you are different things.”
“Can still smell how turned on you were. I sucked you clean off my fingers. God, you tasted like oranges. I want more, Sammy.”
“I can’t give you more,” I say on a bated breath. My heart cracks.
“Then I’ll take whatever you have to give. I don’t fucking care. One night. One second.Anything.”
I close my eyes. What can I give? “This weekend,” I rush out before I can change my mind. “When we come home on Sunday, we walk away from it. We pretend it never happened.”
“Fine. Fucking fine.”
The hand gripping my ass moves up my back, and then he’s clutching my neck with a tight force. His fingers dig into me, and my eyes fling up when his mouth connects to mine. My first kiss in over five years is rough and commanding. He takes control, plunging his tongue into my mouth.
It’s desperate, filled with an urgency to get as much of it in the short time frame I’ve set. In forty-eight hours, it will be over with. I’m overwhelmed with the scent of bergamot and the scratchy feeling of his beard against my face.
This is it. This is what I need to get back into the swing of normalcy. Declan Murphy is about to claim me in ways I don’t think I’ve ever been before. There’s no fear, no guilt. Just the need to know what this man looks like naked.
He pulls away, grinning. “Are there still ground rules, Ms. Cullen?”
“Yes!” I shriek. “Yes, there are.”
He chuckles. “Fine. We’ll go over them in my bed. Naked. Let’s go.”
And like all things Declan does, he grabs me by the elbow in a haste to get out of the restaurant. I’m led back across the street, where he’s snatching my purse and digging through to find my car keys.
“Did you drive?” I ask when he shoves me into the passenger seat of my Audi. And just like the other night, he leans in to strap me in. This time, when his hands graze my chest, I embrace the heat of his touch, anticipation causing my nipples to ache.
“Yeah, but I’ll text my brother to pick up the car.”
He rounds the front, then slides into the driver seat. The engine starts up, and he glides into the busy street. “What are your rules?” he asks when we fall into silence.
I bite my lip, trying to figure out what I’m comfortable with. We need the safe sex talk, as weird as it is. “I haven’t been tested in years, but I’m not sexually active,” I say, cringing when it comes out all awkward. “Still. Condoms are a must.”
He nods. “I’m up to date on screenings and agree about the condoms.” He glances at me, one hand on the steering wheel. “I’m not worried about that, Samira. I’m worried about being too much for you.”
