by B. Cranford
Even if it wasn’t the real one.
With a groan, Jade rolled over in bed.
Not her bed.
Where am I?
Cracking open her eyes, she surveyed the room, noting the freshly painted white walls, which were decorated with framed covers of Patrick the Panda.
Brighton and Sebastian’s house.
“Oh, oh shit.” She tried to slide from the bed, but found herself caught up in a tangle of blankets and sheets. Apparently, she’d been buried alive in a soft, pillowy cloud of comfort at some point, though she didn’t remember it. With her body still screaming at her, aches and pains making themselves known, she slid with a loud bump to the bedroom floor, croaking out a curse word.
The bedroom door flew open, and there he stood. Tall, blond and handsome—not to mention wearing only a well-worn pair of jeans—Declan was by her side before she had time to blink.
“Freckles, are you okay?” His face was all calm concern, and she tilted her head to stare at him, trying to figure out what in the hell he was doing there, with her, in Brighton’s guest room. “Hey, Jade?”
She shook her head to try and clear her thoughts and nodded. “Yeah, yes, I’m okay. I got tangled . . .” She trailed off, gesturing to the mess of bedding currently attached to her lower body. Fuck, this is embarrassing.
“My fault.” Declan started working on detangling her, and with surprising gentleness, he apologized. “Sorry, you were shivering so much, I just kept piling blankets on. I’m, ahh”—he gripped the back of his neck, pausing in his rescue mission to look into her eyes—“not a doctor. Or nurse. Hell, I barely know first aid, but—” He cut himself off with a self-deprecating shrug, and Jade, despite her best attempt at ignoring the way he made her body light up, smiled softly.
“Thank you for taking care of me.” She lamely kicked her legs a couple of times to help free the last of the blankets, and rose unsteadily at the same time Declan did, the contrast in their heights making it necessary for her to tilt her head back to look up at him properly.
She wasn’t short, per se, but Declan was taller than most men she’d dated.
Not that she was dating him. Now or ever.
Because he was a jacka—
“It wasn’t a problem, Freckles. Besides, the animals needed someone to hang out with.”
His words were a reminder that she’d been neglecting her pet-sitting duties, and thoughts of little Lowe’s empty belly and Storm’s barren water dish snapped her back into action. “I was trying to, to, ah . . .” A sudden wave of dizziness struck her mid-sentence, and she reached out to lay a hand upon Declan’s bare, smooth chest.
To maintain her balance. Not for any other reasons.
No, siree, Bob.
“Wow,” she murmured to herself, as a flush of heat washed over her body.
He flexed his pec, and Jade just stared. She couldn’t do anything else. She was hypnotized by Declan’s naked upper half, and she needed to do something about it, and soon. She was in danger of giving him the wrong impression.
How could it be wrong when it felt so right? The traitor in her brain was apparently playing Devil’s Advocate, and yeah, she could admit that her hand on his chest was like nothing she’d ever felt before—or possibly would again—but he was still Declan Young.
Stander-upper.
Jackass.
Closet fucker.
Hot as fuck man who’d taken care of her when she was sick.
Ugh, the worst.
“Freckles, not that I mind your hands on me, at all, but . . . are you okay? You look a little flushed.” He grinned at her and, though his gray eyes still held a measure of concern, she knew that he knew that she was a little smitten with his chest.
“Fine, fine, fine, great, good, so good,” she rushed out, nonsensical word-vomit spewing out as she tried to regain her balance. Only, it wasn’t the dizzy spell that was the problem anymore.
It was him. Specifically, it was him, shirtless and caring in a white-walled guest room, within mere feet of a big, inviting bed.
“Hey.” He raised a hand to her forehead and drew back. “You’re still running a bit of a fever, I think. You should get back in bed.”
“But, Lowe and St—”
“Have been just fine with me for two days, so another one isn’t going to kill them, or me. Or even you, for that matter.”
Jade wasn’t the type to shirk her responsibilities, and she’d promised to take care of her bestie’s fur-babies, but . . . “‘Kay, thanks. Wait, did you say two days?” She blinked, casting her gaze around the room for a clock, her phone, something that could tell her the time and date.
Work, I missed work, she thought in a hazy panic, the heat that had shot through her body at the feel of Declan’s skin under her palm turning cold.
“Freckles, calm down.” He placed his hand over hers where it still laid on her chest and ducked his head so they were face-to-face, nose-to-nose, and very nearly lip-to-lip.
I could kiss him.
Except, she was suddenly conscious of the fact that while he looked like a male model in all his shirtless, lazy denim perfection, she probably looked like she’d been dragged through the mud after falling out of a tree, with a family of birds and their three-bedroom nest lodged firmly in her hair.
Not to mention her breath.
“Oh, God,” she groaned out, but Declan held her gaze. She shut her eyes, hoping like a child that if she couldn’t see him, then he couldn’t see her.
“I called your mom and she’s back in the office until you’re well. Everything is fine, I promise you.” He smiled encouragingly, looking for all the world like he was holding back a laugh. “She’s calling it—and I quote—her ‘comeback tour,’ and Peter is enjoying her return.”
Jade shook her head, trying to imagine her mother behind the desk at Figures Accounting, seeing how many extensive changes Jade had made to the running of the office in the time since her mom had retired. “She’s going to mess it all up.”
She could hear the whine in her voice, and she hated herself for it, but she couldn’t help it. With Sebastian away with Brighton, the office was already going to be crazed, but add her . . . colorful mother to the mix and . . . “I think I’m going to be sick again.”
Declan dropped his hand and stepped back, allowing Jade to move past him. She still looked like death warmed over, not that he would ever tell her that, but dammit, she was cute as hell.
Her pink hair was a riot around her head, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think that some of her freckles had moved around her face, repositioning themselves as she slept.
“Baby, do you need some help?” he asked, following her to where she now crouched in front of the toilet. She didn’t reply, her hand clapped over her mouth like it was going to keep inside whatever was threatening to come out, so he stood there, helplessly, wondering what he should be doing.
Maybe I should call Seb’s mom? The thought hit him out of nowhere, and he wanted to punch himself for not thinking of it sooner. Dr. Figures was, well, a doctor. And a damn good one, so if anyone would know what to do, it would be Delaney Figures.
With the sounds of Jade retching in the background, Declan drew his phone from the pocket of his jeans, and pulled up his contacts list, searching for and finding Dr. Figures easily. He hit dial, and waited.
“Declan Hanover Young, it’s been too long since I’ve seen you.” Delaney’s voice was bright, happy and just this side of too loud. It made him think of her shrieking at him and Seb to come inside to eat when they were kids, her volume cranked up so they could hear her all the way at the back of the Figures’ generous-sized yard. “What do you need, honey?”
“What makes you think I need something, Doc?” His response elicited a laugh, because, yeah, he usually only ever called her when he needed medical advice. Or life advice, come to think of it. She was like a second mother to him, and he loved her, but simply didn’t have occasion to call her much.
&nbs
p; I should try harder, he thought to himself, though he knew it wasn’t likely to happen. He was busy—so busy, he barely made time to call his own mother—and he didn’t slow down for much.
Which made the fact that he’d been working from the living room of Sebastian’s place for the last two days while watching over Jade all the more extraordinary.
I’m just being a good friend.
“Oh, Declan.” Delaney’s voice was softer, knowing. “What’s happening?”
“A friend of mine has been sick, and—” He searched for the words to describe the intense feeling of helplessness that came with seeing a woman whom he admired, who was so strong and sure, cut down by illness. “Jade, you know her? From Peter’s office?”
“He mentioned she was out sick, tell me.” He could tell she’d switched to doctor mode, so he laid out her symptoms as best as he could remember them, and listened attentively when Delaney gave him advice on how to treat people with the flu.
“Now, unless I see her, I can’t be sure that’s what’s wrong, but it’s a safe bet since it’s going around. But if she’s not improved by tomorrow, bring her in, okay? There’s not much to do except let it run its course.”
“But,” he began, ready to protest. There had to be something he could do. He didn’t like not being able to make it better, not being able to care for her the way he wanted to. There was something about this woman that sent his already prominent protectiveness into overdrive.
He’d slay all her dragons, like a good white knight should.
If only she’d let him.
In fact, the only reason she was letting him pseudo-help at the moment was because she was too sick to realize it was happening. But hell, if that was the only way to get her to let him in, then he’d take it.
After all, making up for last year’s mistake was a marathon, not a sprint. Just . . . a really long fucking marathon.
“But nothing, Declan.” Delaney said firmly, brooking no argument. “Call me tomorrow with an update, okay?”
“Okay, thanks, Doc.” He smiled as he spoke, remembering the day she’d told him to call her Mom or Doc, but never Dr. Figures. She’d welcomed him into the family and loved him as well as she’d loved her own son. He was grateful for her, then and now. “You’re the best.”
“Don’t you forget it. Now go, take care of your girl.” She hung up before he could correct her, not that he minded.
He liked the sound of that in relation to Freckles.
Your girl.
Yes, he thought, my girl. That sounds about right.
The dark of night gave way to the rising of the sun, hints of orange and yellow and red on the horizon. Jade’s body relaxed into the memory foam mattress that she’d have to tell Brighton she planned to steal—not from her roommate back in Boulder, she laughingly thought to herself, amused by her own cleverness, but from this guest room. It was the most comfortable bed she’d ever slept in.
“What are you snickering about, Freckles?” The husky, sleep-soaked voice startled Jade into a sitting position, and she turned to see Declan laid out beside her. A sheet covered his lower half, and his upper half was blessedly—no, unfortunately, unfortunately, devoid of clothing.
She groaned.
He smiled.
“Nothing. What are you doing in here?” She tried, but failed, to keep the exasperation out of her voice. After all, the man had sacrificed his time to help her recover, even going so far as to call Sebastian’s mom for advice. He actually had made for a pretty hot nurse.
Way hotter than that Florence Nightingale.
“You asked me to stay, so I stayed.”
I did? “And your shirt is . . .?” She tilted her head in question, then watched in wonder as Declan laid one of his big hands on his chest and slowly, teasingly ran it down his body.
“You told me I could sleep like I usually do, and I took you at your word, Freckles. You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” His voice was playful, and he was definitely enjoying her discomfort at the thought of sleeping beside his naked, gloriously naked body.
Two can play that game, she thought, grabbing the hem of the charcoal colored tank top she was wearing.
With no bra underneath.
“I’m so hot with you in bed with me. You’re like a heater. Or maybe it’s the fever?” Jade made a point of blinking her hazel eyes innocently before she yanked the tank over her head and revealed herself to Declan.
The sound he made was somewhere between shock and awe.
“Piercing, nipple, whoa,” he uttered, blinking rapidly as she intentionally, provocatively bit into her lower lip. “Your fever is gone, broke last niiii—oh God.”
He broke off as she began to play with her piercings, moaning at the sensation, and she watched in wonder as the sheet covering Declan’s lower body began to tent, his cock rapidly hardening, his breath coming quickly.
“Oh, I thought I felt better,” she cooed at him, enjoying the way his body was reacting to hers, but not as much as she was enjoying the pained look on his face. “It feels so nice to just”—she released her nipples and raised both of her arms above her head, stretching her body—“stretch out and work my muscles, you know?”
He nodded. Paused. Nodded again.
“Freckles, I . . .” He reached down and wrapped a hand around his thick shaft, the stark white of the sheet contrasting against the warm brown of his skin, emphasizing the size of him.
Oh, the size of him.
He was beautiful, from what Jade could tell. Long, thick and leaving a little wet spot where his tip was leaking pre-cum.
Unable to resist, she leaned down and kissed the droplet that was forming on the cotton sheet, humming in approval as the taste of him hit her lips, the spicy scent of him mixing with the smell of fabric softener. It made her mouth water for more, and since she was feeling unexpectedly good, and brave, she leaned in even closer, and ran her tongue over the sheet, up his shaft, ending with a series of small flicks across the head of his cock.
“Jade, Jesus,” Declan sighed, the enjoyment of the moment clear on his face. He released himself, both hands moving to fist the sheet beside him, and she slid her legs out from under the covers so she could throw one over him and straddle his waist.
“You feel so good, baby. I knew you would.” His words were a little garbled and his hands were still squeezing the absolute life out of the white sheet. “Rock on me, Freckles. Use me.”
And she was. She did. Jade rolled her hips back and forth over the sheet, over Declan’s rigid dick. It was dry humping at its finest, though there was nothing dry about it. Her pussy was soaked, her clit swollen and needy.
All she wanted was to get off.
Get off, and get Declan off too.
No matter that he was a jackass who didn’t know how to use a phone. She was coming to realize that while his verbal communication skills were lacking, his physical ones were on point.
And currently, on her pussy.
“Declan.” She drew out his name as she continued to work her hips over him, and she watched in wonder as his face contorted in a display of pleasure so hot, so manly, so fucking arousing that she knew she was mere seconds away from falling over the edge.
“That’s it, that’s it, babe. You’re doing great. I just need to take your temperature, okay?”
Jade blinked. “Huh?” She continued to rock and roll, shimmy and shake, trying to capture the blissful feeling that was just out of reach, when Declan spoke again.
“Freckles, come on. Open up for me.”
Open up for me?
Confusion reigned supreme. She was currently straddling the sexiest man she’d ever been stood up by, rubbing her pussy along his cock, watching as she drove him mad, and he wanted her to open up?
“Open up what?” She couldn’t help but ask, feeling her head tip back and her eyes fall shut as she continued to seek out her orgasm.
An orgasm that seemed to be moving further away, not closer.
She moan
ed in desperation. She’d been so close, and she could feel how wet she was. She’d definitely have to wash the sheets after this, but it would be so worth it.
“Your mouth, Jade. I need to take your temperature.”
Her eyes flew open, her head raising and tilting forward so she could look down at him sprawled out below her.
Except, he wasn’t there.
“Declan?” She blinked down at her own body, still rolling, still chasing ecstasy, when suddenly, she felt his warm hand behind her neck, cupping her.
“Come on, sweetheart. Open your eyes.” His voice was close, right next to her ear, and she felt the heated tickle of his breath as he softly spoke, sending a trickle of shivers through her entire, aroused body. “It’ll only take a minute.”
Jade’s eyes flew open—for real this time.
The room was dark, the first hints of sunrise peeking out from below the shade that wasn’t drawn all the way down the window. It was nearly morning and she was alone in bed, but not alone in the room.
Declan stood over her, one hand protectively wrapped around her neck, the other holding the thermometer that he’d been using to track her fever. “There you are.” He smiled, looking a little sly and a lot handsome.
Dammit, why does he have to be so handsome?
“‘S’goin’ on?” She felt weird. Not achy, not anymore. But disoriented and tired. Limp.
“Some dream you were having there, Freckles.” His smile turned naughty and he leaned in again, talking next to her ear a second, no less shiver-inducing time. “Was it about me?”
Declan had woken from his uncomfortable sleeping position on the couch, and needing to check on his patient, not to mention take a piss, he’d made his way quietly into Jade’s bedroom and through to the bathroom.
Once inside, the unmistakable sounds of moaning caught his attention.
“It feels so nice to just stretch out and work my muscles, you know?”