by Cecy Robson
But to end, it first has to begin.
My stare burns into hers, causing her full lips to part and reveal her shock because yeah, it’s that obvious what I want to do to her.
“Declan . . .” she says, barely able to get the words out.
“Don’t say anything,” I tell her. “I just want to kiss you, and I really need you to let me.”
CHAPTER 12
Melissa
I can’t speak.
Or move.
Or breathe.
Declan is holding me, his strong body welding into mine. Is this really happening?
He leans in, tilting his chin and closing his eyes.
I should stop him in his tracks before things go where they’re not meant to. I should tell him no and step away.
But I don’t want to say no.
I open my mouth and allow him in.
The level of desire surging between us prepares me for the same aggression he’s demonstrated in court. He’s a man used to getting what he wants, and will stop at nothing until it’s his.
Instead the kiss is slow, lazy, sexy, the sweeps of his tongue making me moan.
Men treat me like I’ll crumble if they don’t handle me with care. Declan’s kiss is like a sinful invitation, tempting me into darkness. He leaves my mouth before I’m ready to stop, dragging his tongue to the hollow of my throat and finding the perfect place to nibble.
His hand slips beneath my T-shirt. “Tell me to stop,” he murmurs against my skin.
“I don’t want you to,” I confess.
He pauses with his palm over my breast, uncertainty shimmering his blue eyes. “Are you sure?”
He circles the swell, the seductive motion tightening my nipples. “Yes,” I rasp.
He doesn’t believe me. He thinks I’m scared. He’s right. I’m terrified.
That doesn’t mean I don’t want him.
My hands glide down. I reach the edge of his shirt, peeling it off him, my fingertips burning with the desire to stroke him.
Long lean muscles make up is arms and perfect ripples define his abs. I meet his face, trying to mask my awe. Clearly, I fail.
He winks. “You’re welcome,” he says, attacking my mouth with his.
My tongue delves deep, seeking a deeper taste as he pulls me closer. He massages my breast, taking in its entirety before withdrawing to pinch the center.
I groan as he rolls a nipple, the tantalizing aggression making me ache for more. But when his lips leave my mouth to kiss me behind the ear, that awful squeak close contact produces echoes through my hearing aid.
I jerk away, leaving his arms.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I nod, realizing he thinks he hurt me. “Back noise,” I explain.
I reach for the hearing aid behind my left ear. The moment I slip it off, half of my sound is turned off. It’s an odd sensation, and one I’ve experienced most of my life. Yet the effect is so immediate and extreme, even now it gives me pause.
I take a breath and remove the other. The silence is profound, cocooning me in a separate space in time and muffling my elevated breaths. It’s frightening to be suddenly cut off from the world this way, to lose a vital sense so abruptly. It leaves me raw, vulnerable, in a way nothing else can.
But as I look at Declan, the way he’s waiting for me and how his body longs for my touch, and remember how this amazing man found a place in my heart, I can’t imagine anyone else I’d rather be vulnerable for.
I place the hearing aids on the shelf, stripping out of my plaid shirt and then my tank. My bra follows, my heavy breasts bouncing as they’re set free. I keep going, until the only thing that remains are my tiny pink panties. I’m not a small gal, but I like my curves.
Based on the growing bulge pressing against his jeans, Declan likes them, too.
I smile as he takes in my large and tightening tips, passing a hand along the swell of my breast. “You’re welcome, too,” I say, biting on my bottom lip.
I walk backwards into my living room. Declan follows like I’m yanking him on a leash, kicking out of his shoes and socks before losing his jeans and throwing them aside.
“Fuck,” I watch him mouth when he reaches for me, pulling me in for one hell of a kiss.
I can’t keep still, not with the way he’s tugging the pebbled point of my breasts and not when his fingers disappear beneath my panties. I’m shoving the waistband of his underwear down when his fingers circle and his mouth fastens around my nipple.
I clench down on my jaw, trying not to cry out with bliss. It’s hard. He feels so good. Heat builds at my core, slicking me, making Declan slide his fingers faster. My lashes flutter when he pushes in deeper, his momentum increasing as I arch my spine.
The slow building arousal accelerates into full-blown passion. Declan’s fingers ram faster while his teeth scrape against my dark areolas. My moaning intensifies as my orgasm builds, his touch primal, fast, taking me to my breaking point. I surrender to the ecstasy, digging my fingers into his shoulders to stay standing.
My body trembles out of control. He holds tight, prolonging the jolts of electricity spreading along my thighs until they sear through veins and overtake my entire body. As the waves lessen, I press my hands against his chest, encouraging him to sit.
I fall to my knees and tug off his briefs. My small nails drag along his bare thighs, encouraging him to open them and make room for me. “Do we need anything?”
He shakes his head. “You tell me,” I watch him say.
“No, we’re safe,” I tell him.
His eyes glaze with desire as I stroke. I lower my head to pull his thick erection into my mouth.
Declan jolts, his fingers gliding along my scalp. I can’t hear him. I only feel him. The way his body shudders and how his hips rise and fall with my increasing speed. He jerks when I go deeper with each pass, his thigh muscles clenching beneath my touch.
My eyes stay closed. I’m too shy to look. But I’m not too shy to act.
I focus on what I’m doing and how much it’s turning me on. I can’t seem to stop, my movements quickening and my suction increasing. Declan fists my hair, I know he’s watching every pull and how my lips wrap firmly around him. I think he’s going to let me finish him until he yanks me up and pulls down my panties.
Declan isn’t shy, he’s pumped for more, remaining seated as I hover above him and he spreads my legs. His heady stare latches on mine as he grips my hips, hauling me down to his mouth.
His lips seize my delicate folds, marking his territory with each flick of his tongue. I grunt as I fall forward, my knees sinking into the cushions above his shoulders.
Declan takes his time sucking and swirling his tongue, leisurely building his speed and encouraging me to rock against him. My fingers grip the rim of the couch as my orgasm peaks. I fall forward coming hard, shaking so badly I barely keep from falling forward.
My heart beats out of control. He lowers me to his lap, his tongue passing over his lips. You’re on the pill, right? I watch him mouth.
I nod, pulling the clip holding what remains of my bun.
My hair falls around my face, widening his eyes. I’m glad. I want to please him any way I can. I wait for him to start until I realize that he’s waiting for me. He wants to make sure I’m ready. He doesn’t realize I’ve never wanted anyone more.
Our lips crush together, I push up on one leg. He reaches for his erection, placing his dense head against my slick center. Our kiss breaks off and our faces scrunch as I lower myself down, his width and length stretching me slowly. It takes a long moment for our laps to connect. But once they do, I know it’s time to move.
My hips slide against his thighs, my speed accelerating. His fingers thread through my messy hair, bringing me to him so I can meet his face. “I want you,” he says, his skin flushed and his breaths ragged. “I want you so much.”
“I want you, too,” I stammer.
It’s the truth. Because whether Declan knows it or no
t, over these past two months, I’ve fallen in love with him.
No matter how hard I tried not to.
CHAPTER 13
Declan
“The wine is really good,” Melissa says, taking another sip.
We’re lying on our sides in bed. Her head is resting against her palm and there’s a sheet draped over her hip. “Yeah,” I agree. “It would have gone great with the fish.”
Her laugh makes me broaden my smile. She’d planned this kick-ass dinner: Chilean sea bass with mango and corn relish, lobster bisque, and wild rice. She’d probably spent hours shopping and prepping for it. The bisque boiled over the sides of the pot, the fish burned in the oven along with the bread she was baking, and the rice dried to a crisp. We were too busy to care, touching and kissing, until round one quickly led into round two. We would have headed into the bedroom sooner to start a third round if the damn smoke detector hadn’t gone off.
We ended up ordering pizza and I could seriously give a fuck.
My hand trails across her shoulder and stroke her ear with my thumb. Her hearing aids are still on the shelf in the living room probably between a Naughty Scott and or a shirtless Duke, again, I could care less. What I do care about is her.
I don’t think it was easy for her to remove them in front of me like she did. For long few breaths, I was sure the moment between us was gone. Then I saw it, the shift in her pretty eyes that took her from fragile beauty to the strong stunning woman who’s haunted my dreams.
“I’d still like to make you dinner,” she says. “Would Thursday work?”
She’s asking me for another date, and it’s just not for sex. Here’s the thing, I cut women loose pretty damn fast. It’s not going to play out the same way with Melissa, not when we’re working together, and not when I’ve been waking up wanting her for the last eight weeks.
I knew this before I kissed her, and I was willing to go for it. But now that we’re talking about next time, I’m not sure I’m ready.
“I can’t Thursday,” I tell her.
She nods like she can already guess there’s not going to be a second date. “Okay,” she says.
“What about Wednesday?”
“What?”
She doesn’t think I want to see her again, not in this capacity. But she’s wrong. As much as I never counted on this, I don’t want to discount it or her.
I place my wine glass on the bedside table, not wanting anything between us then lean in and kiss her softly. “We’re supposed to discuss the Keeley case. Why don’t we do all the other shit we have pending at the office then discuss the case here?” I shrug. “Or at my place.”
Her full lips curve. Yeah. She knows now I’m not about to walk away. Yet.
“I’m making dinner for my dad at his house on Wednesday so that doesn’t work.” She considers me. “My dad and I have this thing we do that I’d like us to do, too.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
She shivers when my hand grazes along her curves to massage her hip. “Work talk has to be kept to a minimum outside the office. Otherwise, we don’t get a break from it.”
“Good point,” I say, unable to stop raking my gaze down her figure.
She reaches behind her to place her almost empty glass on the table, tilting her chin as she resumes her position in front of me. “What’s it going to be like at the office?” she asks.
“Hard, now that I’ve seen you naked.”
“I think I know what you mean,” she says, pressing her hand against my chest and grazing it lightly. “As far as our coworkers are concerned, do you want them to know we were together?”
Or “are together”, right? She chooses her words carefully, not wanting to presume there’s something between us. I should be relieved, but there is something. Even the commitment-phobe in me can see it.
“No,” I answer truthfully. “I don’t want anyone to know about us.”
Although she keeps her hand against my chest, I sense her pull away as that wall she keeps around herself slamming in place to protect her. I don’t want her to think I’ve used her, but I want to be honest with her, and with me. “Mel, I don’t know what’s going to happen between us, or if anything will happen at all. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to give us a try.” I wrap a strand of her hair around my finger. “I just don’t want whatever happens to play out at the office.”
“So keep us a secret?”
It seems like such a shit thing to do. “Yeah. We’ll continue as is and take things slow.”
“Slow?” she questions. “As in not have sex anymore?”
“Oh, hell no,” I say.
She laughs. “Good.”
“Workplace relationships can get messy. I don’t want anyone questioning your position or mine because of what we are or aren’t. So let’s date and get to know each other in and out of bed.” I watch her hair slide down my finger. “When we’re at work, we’ll keep it professional like it’s been.”
“All right,” she agrees.
I pull her in for a long deep kiss. She clutches me against her, giving our contact an extra boost of heat. She feels good. But when I edge away, I still sense her apprehension.
“Any regrets?” I ask her, worried there might be.
She shakes her head. “No. What about you?”
“Only that I wish this happened sooner,” I admit.
The walls come crashing down. “Me, too,” she says, smiling gently.
My smile is a little wider. I didn’t like her pulling away or feeling guarded around me. Not after what we’ve shared the past few weeks and especially these past few hours.
Her hand slides down my shoulder to rest over my heart. It’s something I notice her do during sex and once we settled into bed. I glance down at her hand and cock a brow. “You like it there?”
She laughs. “Yeah.”
Her cheeks redden and she tries to pull away. I clasp her hand and keep it in place, perceiving there’s more to the gesture. “What are you doing?”
She knows what I’m asking her. “Feeling you.”
“There are better places to feel me.” I hold out a hand. “Just saying.”
Her blush turns deeper, not that it keeps her from laughing. “There are,” she agrees. “But this is my favorite.”
“Why? So you can push me away if I piss you off?”
“No,” she says, her sweet smile in place. “Because I can feel your heart.”
I don’t move, losing my smile.
She scans my face, a trickle of sadness shimmering her gaze. “Don’t be embarrassed,” she tells me. “It’s a good heart, strong and honest, but tender when it needs to be just like its owner.”
“You’re giving me too much credit,” I tell her. I sound annoyed though I don’t mean to. Maybe I expected the type of bullshit that follows sex with most other women, small talk, a brief thank you, followed by a quicker goodbye.
But this is Melissa. I should expect no less.
She adjusts her position, causing her heavy breast to glide along the one beneath, thankfully distracting me from a place I don’t want to go.
I was never one for curvy women, but as I remember how good those curves felt in my hands I realize I’ve missed out.
I press another kiss against her mouth. It’s only ten and we’ve already had sex three times. Not that it stops me from wanting more of her. I glide my hand along the sweep of her waist and carefully yank off the sheet, for a better look. Over the course of the past few hours, I’ve learned her body well. But I like looking at her. And I love that she lets me.
“Like what you see?” she teases.
“I do,” I admit. “You’re fucking beautiful.”
She drops her hand, her expression riddled with disbelief. I mean what I say. The sex was hot, the best I’ve had which says a lot. The intimacy we experienced, now that was something I wasn’t prepared for. But it was there, making the sex raw and somehow innocent. It’s a wild thought, seeing how hard we went at it.
I’m wondering if it’s because I’ve never held a woman this vulnerable in my arms. I want to say it has nothing to do with her being hearing impaired, but I can’t deny that played a part. She couldn’t hear me. She couldn’t hear anything. But she trusted me regardless of the fear that silence created. To have a woman give herself to me that way, I don’t know, it did something to me I never expected.
“What did you think about what we did?” I ask. I almost asked what she thought about the way we “fucked”. But “fuck” doesn’t feel like the right word. Not with her.
Her stare lingers over my naked form. I didn’t bother with the sheet. Like Melissa, I’m not shy when it comes to my body. “I liked it,” she says. Her voice is husky, like she’s remembering how good we made each other feel. “Did you?”
“I did.” Worry finds its way into my voice. “I just want to make sure I didn’t hurt you.”
“Not at all,” she says, her brown irises growing smoky. “You were more aggressive than the other men I’ve been with. But that’s what made it so good.”
She’s giving me one hell of a compliment, basically telling me I performed better than those other dipshits she’s had. It’s what I should fixate on. Instead, I turn away and reach for the half-empty bottle on the nightstand behind me, taking a moment to reign in my shit.
Her hand cups my shoulder. “What’s wrong?” she asks. I don’t move. “Declan, please look at me.”
That voice, and the concern behind it, has me turning back before I can finish pouring more wine.
“What’s wrong?” she asks again, delicately sweeping her fingers along my jaw.
“I don’t like hearing you talk about other men,” I tell her. Christ, I want to kick my own ass for saying it, and for saying what follows. “Especially when you’re lying in bed with me.”
“I wasn’t trying to rub them in your face,” she says.
“I know,” I answer, trying to figure out when the hell I turned into such a pussy.
“Then what―?” The frown eases away, an air of realization sparking along her features. “You’re jealous?” she asks like she can hardly believe it.