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Declan’s finger nudges my chin up. There’s no missing the warmth in his gaze. Or the happiness.God.This is torture.
“Don’t hide from me, Catarina. You never have before.”
“I don’t want to be hurt.”
“Macushla.”He smiles softly. “You are the last person on this planet I would ever want to hurt. I’ve told you before, you’re mine. And I always cherish what is mine.”
My heart thumps wildly in my chest. I wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it. His finger trails along my jaw until his hand cups my face. His eyes land on my lips. “You promise you don’t regret our night together?”
The hint of worry in his tone tugs on my heartstrings.
“I promise,” I whisper.
Relief flickers across his expression, replaced with a hunger that makes my toes curl. “Good.” He leans down. “Because I’ve been dying for another taste.”
His lips find mine. I gasp, and Declan uses the opportunity to plunge his tongue into my mouth. His hands hold onto my head to keep me in place as he ravishes me with so much pent-up longing and desire that my knees feel weak. I clutch onto the lapels of his tuxedo to hold myself up.
I wish I could say I had the self-control to put an end to this kiss. Until I know the truth of what happened to Antony, I should keep distance between me and my fiancé. But need overwhelms me. The same need that’s fueled all my sex dreams this past week. I’m not in control of myself as I meet Declan’s kiss with equal fervor and desperation.
An approving growl vibrates in his throat before his hands drop from my face to wrap around my waist. He lifts me with ease, walking forward until my back presses against the wall. He bunches my skirt up my thighs, allowing me the freedom of movement to wrap my legs around his. Immediately, the pressure of his toned abdomen against my center makes moisture gather between my legs. My hands slide up his chest and wrap around his neck, giving me the leverage I need to move to gain the friction I so desperately crave.
Our mouths continue to meet in a clash of lips, tongue, and teeth. Both of us are in a frenzy.
Through my lust-filled mind, I acknowledge the satisfaction I feel knowing I can make Declan MacKenzie react this way. I was a virgin before him. I’m tall and lean, with almost a boyish figure. I’m not the woman men drool over. Not like my best friend, Ashley. She never wanted for male attention.
But Declan’s reaction makes me feel like I’m the sexiest woman on the planet. The way his hands squeeze my hips, waist, and ass and the way he growls approvingly as I move my center against his erection makes me feel like a goddess.
One hand slips between our bodies. I unbutton his tuxedo jacket with impressive speed. Then, my fingers pull out his tucked shirt and slide underneath to trail over his abs.
He hums against my lips. “Macushla.”
The Irish endearment emboldens me. Trusting him to hold my weight, my other hand moves down. Our kisses become sloppy. I unbutton his trousers and free his erection from his dark gray boxer briefs. He hisses when my fingers wrap around the impressive length.
“Christ, Catarina.”
I give his erection a gentle squeeze before moving to the tip to rub the precum with my fingers. I use the moisture to lubricate his length as I gently begin to slide my hand up and down. My hand job experience is limited, but hearing his approving groans and moans gives me the confidence I need to trust my instincts and keep doing what I’m doing.
“Fuck.” His hips buck and our kiss deepens.
I feel bold. Beautiful. Powerful. Knowing I can bring a man as impressive as Declan to the edge does things to me. I wantmore.
As if reading my mind, Declan’s hands slide under my skirt and run over my damp thong. “So wet for me.”
It’s my turn to hum.
His finger moves the fabric aside and slips into me, making me clench. “Yes,” I moan. “More.”
Declan obliges and slides another finger inside me, bending his knuckle to hit the perfect spot. I groan and grind against his hand, still sliding my palm over his erection but with much less control.
We keep moving against one another, chasing the pleasure we each desperately crave when, without warning, Declan breaks our kiss and his fingers leave my center.
I whimper in objection.
He presses a soft kiss against my lips. “Say you’re moving back into the penthouse.”
“Declan,” I whine. I try to angle my hips to meet his length, but he rotates his hips to prevent me from making contact.
“Say you’re coming back, and I’ll give you what you want.”
