by Tricia Lynne
Finally, he ended the standoff. “I heard Matt took pity on Jamie and told him who Kat is. She’s some famous model, huh?” I narrowed my eyes, letting him know I was letting him off the hook. For now.
When dinner arrived, we talked while we ate, and I found that, when I wasn’t overly concerned with his perception of me, Declan’s easy to talk to. In fact, I was much more relaxed than I’d been at dinner the night before and found myself going into details about my family that I had only ever discussed with Kat.
“My dad wanted a boy. He got me instead,” I said, matter of fact. “I wasn’t much of a girly-girl and mom didn’t really know what to do with me. She loved me, I know. And I look a lot like her, but that’s where the similarities ended. When I was little, she would buy me Barbies and dresses—I played with Ninja Turtles and skinned my knees.” I shrugged. “I was seven when she got pregnant again and my dad got his boy. He just didn’t see me anymore after that. I became transparent.” I’d tried so hard to win my dad’s approval, to get some sliver of attention that indicated I was important to him. But he never really saw me again. Not when I brought home straight A’s or got into fights at school. Or when I graduated magna cum laude. He didn’t even make the drive to see me graduate.”
And that’s where the body issues had begun wasn’t it? With the first man in my life? Not because I was chubby, that came later. But so young. Just a little girl, really. And simply because I was born a girl instead of a boy? I’d grown up trying to please a man for whom I’d never be enough.
“When I was thirteen, my brother passed away. He had a heart defect we didn’t know about. My mom was never the same.” My eyes prickled with a pain I hadn’t felt in years and I took a second to pull my shit together.
He rubbed a hand over his stubble, waiting patiently for me to continue.
“She fell into a depression she never recovered from. Died about a year later. Technically, it was a heart attack, but I know it was a broken heart that killed her.”
Declan searched my face for the space of several heartbeats, lifted his glass. “May He hold them in the palm of His hand.” He tapped my glass and we both drank deep.
I took a cleansing breath, clearing the knot in my throat. “Why did your mom want to move to America?”
“It’s not a story with a happy ending.” He shrugged a broad shoulder. “She was an American beauty on holiday in Ireland after graduation. She fell in lust with an Irishman. I was the result and a proposal was made.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t the life she had planned, though. She wanted to be an actress. Wife and mother at twenty-two didn’t figure into that. I remember the woman was always angry. She would scream at me a lot, and she never smiled. One day she left the house…and just never came back.” He tilted his lips in a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “She was pretty. I’ll give her that.
“A couple months later, my dad decided to chase her. She was the love of his life, but it was unrequited. When we finally caught up to her stateside, she sent us packing.”
“Why didn’t you go home?”
“Dad sold what we had so we could chase her around the States. No money. Nothing to go back to. The old man got a green card and found work. I have dual citizenship, see,” he added, looking up from the table.
Wow. Declan had as many mommy issues as I had daddy issues. Did the intensity of our connection the night before have something to do with him slamming on the brakes?
He glanced up, smiled ruefully. “Just another Irish tragedy. You know, you’re easy to talk to.”
“So are you. I don’t talk about my family much, but with you, it all just came tumbling out.”
“Yeah, me neither. It’s the whole angsty rock thing…kindred spirits,” he added with a playful wink.
“Where does the music come in?”
“I started playing in high school. The old man didn’t think much of it.” His eyes took on a mischievous shine. “ ‘Complete shite, that garbage you and yer mates play. Fook off the lot of ya.’ ”
Jesus. The accent was hot.
“Anyhow, I did some traveling, played with other bands. When I landed here, it felt like home so I stayed. Found an ad in one of the local music rags for a rhythm guitarist who could do backup vocals, and BlackSmith was born. When the lead singer moved to L.A., I moved up front and the rest is history.” He smiled wistfully. “Except for Matthias…He dogged us for months, telling us how much better he was than our drummer. He had zero experience in a rock band and back then we were still trying to make it. We didn’t have time for a frat boy who hadn’t made his bones. Then we lost our drummer right before a gig, and decided to give him a shot. Matt saved our asses.” Declan’s affection was unmistakable. The proud older brother to Matthias’ younger. “The little shit could hammer it out like nobody’s business. We were floored, and he had been doggin’ us for so long that he already knew the set list.”
“He’s younger than the rest of you?”
He nodded, signaled the waiter. “A few years. I caught you checking out his ass.” He turned back to catch my reaction.
“And?”
“What’s the verdict?” he asked with a tilt of his head.
I thought briefly. “Mighty fine ass that boy’s got on him.”
He chuckled. Treated me to a full-on smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.
“Hey, I’m human, I’m female. Between Matthias and Jamie, I’ll have enough spank bank material for several months of dry spell,” I teased, purposely leaving him out.
Declan’s eyes went big before he threw his head back with a quick laugh. “You like to try and shock me, don’t you?”
“What, me? The good girl? No, I’m not trying, not really. But I am succeeding.” I winked swallowed the last of my beer as two glasses of white wine arrived with a piece of tiramisu.
“Christ. I get off on your temper and you get off on shocking me.” He shook his head. “Well, this oughta be interesting.”
Chapter 9
Declan pushed the tiramisu toward me, moving around the corner until his thigh was pressed tight against mine. “I thought we would share.” He cut off a bite and pushed it between his lips slow and sinful.
The bastard knew exactly what he did to me.
I picked up my fork and cut a small bite, closed my lips around the rich custard with a soft sigh. Declan pinned me with green eyes as I pulled the fork out and licked the corner of my mouth.
He rubbed his jaw, considering me. “I couldn’t eat another bite. I think I’ll just watch you.” He pushed the plate at me and lifted his wine to his lips. The look on his face was unnerving—part devious, part animal—as if he had sized up his prey and was waiting for the right time to ambush.
That look…I felt my cheeks flush as I cut another bite and slid it into my mouth. Declan’s fingers skimmed up the inside of my thigh under the table and I jolted. I turned to look at him, eyes wide.
The smirk on his face was all lion and gazelle. Putting his free arm over the back of the booth, he leaned into my neck, tickling me with his nose. “Mmm, you smell good, Avery. Makes me want to taste you.”
I fought the urge to shiver. My skin prickled, desire pooling between my thighs at the sharp tug in my abdomen. I reached for my glass, swallowed deeply trying to settle myself down.
Cutting another bite, I turned the fork to Declan. He leaned forward with a mischievous grin and devoured it as his fingers whispered over the inside of my upper thigh.
I exhaled, eyes darting around the room.
“Relax. Long tablecloths,” he whispered, his lips caressing the shell of my ear. “Enjoy your dessert. I like to watch you slide that fork between your lips. Imagine that mouth of yours on my skin.”
There was that tug again, and the dampness between my thighs grew more pronounced. I turned, brushed my lips against his, licking at the bo
ttom. “Mmm, you had a little custard there.”
“You wanna play with fire?” he whispered, and nudged my legs apart, cupping my core.
I inhaled raised my hips to push against him as his free arm clamped down over my shoulders to hold me still. It was a futile effort.
I looked out over the dining room; I cut another bite brought it to my lips. As I slid the fork into my mouth, Declan pushed my panties aside and ran a fingertip over my crease. I moaned quietly, unable to control the sound, but he’d timed it perfectly.
I was simply enjoying my dessert.
His mouth brushed my neck as he whispered, “Damn. You’re so warm and wet, so slick already.” He mouthed the skin below my ear; his lips hot and damp. “What do you taste like, Avery?”
His fingers were maddening stroking me up and down. I squirmed tried to coax him into sliding a finger between my folds.
“Honey? Or is it peaches? Warm, sticky syrup against my tongue? I can’t wait to find out.”
Declan ignored my attempt to manipulate his fingers and sank his teeth into me where neck meets shoulder. “If you don’t hold still, I’ll stop.” His whisper came out hoarse.
“If you stop, I’ll punch you in the nuts,” I managed to get out.
His laugh was sinister. “You know how hard that just made me? Harder than last night when you asked me in the middle of fucking Bourbon Street what I was holdin’. But still nothing like I was with your thighs spread wide and your hips rolling against mine. Now, eat the fucking cake.” The last was almost snarled.
Declan was losing his precious control, and I loved it. The gentleman who’d picked me up for dinner had made a quick and quiet exit.
Leisurely, I sipped my wine, grinning around the glass. I stole a glance at him. It was cool in the restaurant, but his face had flushed, his forehead sheened faintly in the light.
“You’re the one with something to lose here,” he whispered. With that, I had no doubt he could embarrass me with one poorly timed stroke of a well-placed finger.
I cut into the dessert again.
“Good girl. Now slide forward and let those soft thighs fall open for me.”
I did what he said, twisting enough to put my thigh over his, brushing against the bulge in his pants. He hadn’t lied. Declan was rock hard pressed against my leg. I quirked my lips at his sharp intake of breath as he thrust his hips against my thigh.
“Are you enjoying your dessert, ma’am?”
My eyes snapped wide at the waiter. That’s when Declan decided to inch a thick finger inside me, brushing his thumb over my hooded bundle of nerves. I inhaled, a small moan escaping before I got my fork into my mouth.
The waiter looked at me like I’d lost it and Declan chuckled, but what he was doing felt so good I could give two shits about the waiter. Hell, I could barely remember my own name with Declan’s thumb running soft circles around my clit. There was something about being with him that made me feel brave, that dark part of me squealed with glee at the shit I was capable of.
My walls tightened—the sensations, the elicit setting, the waiter staring at me—they all stoked the liquid fire throbbing in my veins, calling out for me to grind against his hand.
I turned my eyes to Declan. With mouth full and mound throbbing, my body cried out for him to move.
His smug grin was ridiculously sexy. “Dessert is great. Thank you,” Declan replied, smooth as glass. “I couldn’t possibly deny her the rest when she’s obviously enjoying it so much.”
Yeah, I saw what he did there and gave a closed-lip smile.
“Any more wine? Perhaps another Guinness?”
“No, thanks. I think she’s almost finished. Aren’t you, sweet?”
I nodded, and the finger inside me started moving in slow shallow strokes. My eyes slipped closed as I rolled my hips against Declan’s palm.
His arm tightened around my shoulder.
“Very good. I’ll prepare your check.” The waiter shot me a perplexed glance.
“Last bite.” Declan nipped my earlobe.
“Mmm.”
His finger sank deeper, faster, his thumb no longer soft, but quick and intense. I closed my eyes, dropped my head to rest on Declan’s arm and he met my lips with a feathery kiss.
I scooped the remaining custard onto my shaking fork and waited to bring it to my mouth. His lips lingered against my shoulder, his breathing quick and clipped. Without warning, he pressed down against my little bud and curled his finger inside me. My body tightened around him, sharpening the ache to something near pain.
“Christ,” he groaned, and I went over the edge.
“Oh God,” I blurted, not loudly, but still screaming of elicit behavior.
I shoved the bite into my mouth while my insides quaked and pulled at his finger in the most amazing orgasm. My fork hit the plate with a clatter. My thigh, tight as a bowstring, trembled in Declan’s lap.
He sucked air though gritted teeth.
“Mmm. So good,” I sputtered as the orgasm waned. The couple in the booth next to us turned to look at me. “The tiramisu is amaaaazing.” I pasted on my sweetest smile and they turned back to their dinner. I smirked, pleased with my quick cover.
Declan looked just as amused, but I could see the heat and strain in his eyes. Slowly he withdrew his finger, wringing a final shudder from me as my panties slid into place.
Then he brought the finger to his mouth slid it between his lips. “Mmm. Sweet, sweet, Avery.” A self-assured grin teased the corner of his mouth. It was unbelievable how hot that one action was.
Declan took my hand. Turning it over, he kissed my palm. “We should go. I’ve got someplace else I want to take you, tonight.”
Where the hell was the check?
Chapter 10
After the bill arrived, I made a quick trip to the ladies’ room while Declan paid the waiter and got his trouser tent under control—though, if I was being honest, it felt more like a luxury tour bus than a pup tent.
I snuck a quick look at my email as we drove to a run-down section of town I was fairly sure you wouldn’t find on any map with evidence of Katrina still in plain view.
Declan parked on the edge of a curbless road next to the water-damaged wood of a single-story building. On one end was a hair salon closed for the night; the other end…well, there wasn’t a sign, but chicken’s feet hung in the window—not attached to chickens—along with other strange things. A baby alligator head, small bones, snake skins, thick pillar candles. A small, sleek, gray-and-black cat lay curled inside a set of clay bowls.
At first, I thought it was a stuffed animal. Then it lifted its head as we passed. Its eyes, one gold and one green, flashed eerily as they met mine. One narrowed pupil winked closed while we watched each other through the window. The cat stood, stretched its back, and sat down in the corner against the glass, curling an unnaturally long tail around a black candle.
“Did you see that cat?” I tried to turn to show Declan, but he wouldn’t let me.
“Yeah, it’s best not to stare too long,” he said, pointing me down the sidewalk toward an open door. Sultry music full of horns and accordions poured out into the street. I heard a washboard, lots of brass, tribal drums, even a whistle, and I immediately wanted to dance.
Of all the things I was body conscious about, dancing wasn’t one of them. I loved to dance and I never felt sexier than when I was on a dance floor, swaying, punctuating the beat with my hips. It’s where I found it easiest to let go and remember that I was a woman while I enjoyed the feel of my movements. I blamed my mother for both the olive in my skin and the need to shake my ass.
Dancing was one of the things Mom and I shared. When I was little, I would watch her sway around the kitchen while she cooked dinner. She would grab me by the hands, swing me around the room as I tried to wind my hips and shoulders like she di
d, laughing all the while.
I’d always remember her dancing.
A veritable wall of a man with deeply bronzed skin occupied a stool next to the door, arms crossed over his massive chest. I recognized him from Whiskey Moon. BlackSmith’s bass player. He had black dreads held back with a red rubber band and Polynesian tribal tattoos covering his neck and arms. His eyes were deep set and dark. His brows, heavy, like a prizefighter who had seen too many fights, and his broad nose had been broken a few times. Yet, his looks were completely at odds with his warm, easy smile as he took Declan’s hand and pulled him in for the bro hug.
“Hey, brother.” His voice was as warm and smooth as amber.
“Avery, this is Shaun. Our bass player.”
“Oh, this is Flogging Molly from the lobby, yeah? We don’t get to embarrass this one too often,” Shaun bragged, sending me a playful wink.
“What can I say? He’s lucky that I didn’t make his balls into a set of Mardi Gras beads after the way he nearly killed me.”
Shaun’s laugh rolled like thunder as he looked over my head at Declan. “She’s a ball buster.” He turned back to me. “My wife is, too.” He tipped his head toward Declan. “Sadie always said this one needs a woman who will give as good as she gets.”
“Your wife scares me,” Declan added, eyes sparkling.
“She scares me too, bruh.”
“Sounds like my kinda girl.”
“No way, sis. From the sound of it, you two would be dangerous together.” Shaun’s eyes moved to Declan. “Hey, the band is hot tonight and so is the temperature, be prepared to sweat it out. And you,” he turned kind eyes on me, leaned in so Declan couldn’t hear. “Don’t give him an inch. He likes that about you.”
I pecked his cheek before Declan tugged me inside.
The small club had a makeshift wood stage and scarred floors, eight or nine tables packed into a space not big enough for five, and a ramshackle bar with only a lean-to and a bartender. No waiters. No sound system. Just a bunch of musicians crowded onto a platform playing secondhand and homemade instruments.