31. Olivia
31
OLIVIA
I rolled over for the millionth time, trying in vain to find sleep. I should be nothing but happy. Declan and I had found a way to shift into something like friendship with each other. My time with Catie was a resounding success. Prague was amazing. And I was about to become a published author.
Instead, all I felt was this gnawing emptiness. I was so aware of my body. Almost as aware as I was of Declan’s body, probably slumbering soundly on the other side of the wall.
Someone knocked on my door.
I sat up, clutching the blankets to my chest. I’d tossed my dress on the chair in the corner, and crawled into bed in nothing but my panties.
“Olivia,” Declan called softly through the door.
God, I loved the way he said my name.
“I need you,” he said, his voice low and rich.
I shivered, then scolded myself. He didn’t mean he needed me like that . He probably meant it in a professional way. In a friendly way.
“I’m coming.” I scrambled out of bed and pulled a camisole on. Then I wrapped myself in one of the hotel’s bathrobes.
I opened up the door and tilted my head up to look at him. His eyes were dark, and he was looking at me the way he had for a few heated moments at dinner.
He was looking at me the way he did when he was pounding into me, claiming me as his.
I swallowed, my mouth dry. “Declan, what do you need?—”
He cut me off with a kiss. His mouth was like water in the desert, and I breathed him in, so damn grateful it hurt. He tasted like coming home, and dangerous decisions, and him.
I broke away. “Declan. We can’t.”
But we can , I thought. We must.
He followed me into my room and closed the door behind him. That closed door felt like a delicious promise I wasn’t strong enough to resist.
But I tried. “You wanted a break.”
“I was an arse.” Declan closed the distance between us, cradling my face in one of his hands. The warmth of his skin seeped into mine, gentle tendrils of fire finding their way deep into my core. “I don’t need us to agree on everything. I don’t need to know where this is going. I just need to touch you.”
I needed to touch him too. I pressed my palms to his chest, telling myself I’d shove him away any second now. But I knew that was a lie. Resistance was futile.
“Why waste what time we have left?” he asked. His lips found my temple, then the spot behind my ear, then the sensitive curve of my neck.
My breath skittered, and I clutched at his shirt. My fingers twitched as I felt the buttons against my knuckles, the urge to feel his naked chest under my palms threatening to overwhelm me. “Declan, we have real disagreements. We see the world differently. We can’t pretend that doesn’t matter just because we miss the sex.”
“Of course, we can,” he said and laughed into my neck. He palmed my ass, bringing me to my toes and pressing me against his hardness. And dear God…he was so damn hard. “It was fucking good sex.”
The words were crude and so was his touch. It made me feel bold, wicked, wanted. And that was it—I abandoned any pretense of resistance and surrendered to him. I closed my eyes, the thrumming of my heart like that of a war drum, and melted into him. My lips found his, and I kissed him back, losing myself in his scent, his touch, his taste. This time he was the one to break the kiss, but it was only to guide me backward onto the bed.
“We shouldn’t,” I said, even as I wound my hands in his soft hair, and shivered against the rough prick of stubble on his jaw. “We said we wouldn’t.”
“Just kissing, then,” Declan said and, even though I knew that was the mother of all lies, I let him guide me back onto the bed. The mattress shifted under our weight as he crawled over me, his hand shaking as he tugged at the tie on my robe. “I could live on your kisses, Olivia.”
I shook my head, blushing. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“I am not.” He traced his hand reverently over the thin fabric of my camisole. My pulse pounded at his touch.
Muscle memory fused together with lust, and I started on the buttons of his shirt.
One more time, I told myself. I just need one more time.
Declan caught my wrists and pinned them above my head with one hand. “Don’t distract me, a ghrá . I haven’t had you for days. I intend to savor you.” He looked straight into my eyes and, even though I could have said a million different things, I said nothing. “And I intend to take my time.”
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
How was a girl supposed to resist that?
I felt helpless, and turned on, and cared for, and…
His mouth found my breast, sucking me through the thin fabric of my camisole, and I lost the ability to think.
“I’ve missed you so damn much,” he murmured, his voice broken. “I miss spending time with you, and I miss hearing you laugh, and I miss you storming into my office and ruining my concentration. Do you know what you do to me, Olivia?”
“It’s only been three days.” I gasped, arching helplessly under the onslaught of his mouth. His stubble, his lips, his tongue…my senses were overpowered, flooded with pleasure.
“I know ,” he said, like he was mad about that. Like he intended to punish and worship me for it.
So I surrendered. I surrendered to his hands on my body, by turns hungry and gentle. I surrendered to his mouth, and his words, and this spell he was casting. He acted like I was special, the only woman in the world for him. And for those precious minutes, I let myself believe it.
“Delicious,” he murmured, his lips slowly making the hike down to my belly. “Every inch of you is…” He didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he pressed his mouth against my underwear, the pressure of his touch nearly driving me mad. I arched my back and, on instinct, threaded my fingers on his hair.
For a moment there, I wasn’t even sure if I was breathing.
“Delicious,” he finally repeated, using nothing but his teeth to peel my panties off. He threw them to the corner and dove back in for me. At times gentle, at times rough, he did what he’d promised—he savored me, and he took his sweet time doing it.
I bit down on my bottom lip, trying not to moan, but it was impossible. Every stroke of his tongue, every deliberate movement of his fingers…it was all too good.
I felt electric—I felt alive .
“Declan…” I breathed out, his name rolling off from between my lips as if it weighed a ton. “Declan, I… I think I…”
“Don’t,” he said, his lips moving almost too tenderly against my aching body. “Don’t think.”
What else could I do but obey?
I closed my eyes and let a tidal wave of pleasure wash over me, my muscles tensing and spasming in turns. With my heels digging into the mattress, I held tight to his hair and pressed myself against his mouth, momentarily losing all control.
“Yes,” Declan said once I’d collapsed. “Just like that.”
“We are…” I was so out of breath it was hard to speak. “We are not done.”
I forced myself up and rolled on top, taking control, so that I could kiss him as much as I needed. Declan let me. He was a man drugged with desire. Desire for me . Then again, it was mutual—had I ever needed anyone as much as I needed him?
I loved the way his hands tensed on my hips when I softly bit his bottom lip. I loved the smooth strength of his arms, his chest, his thighs. I loved the way he spanked me when I teased him a little too long, and threatened me with wonderful things if I didn’t let him inside me now .
I loved the way he groaned when I gripped his cock and brushed him against my entrance.
“Shit. Wait. Condom,” he gasped. “I didn’t bring...”
“I’m on birth control,” I said. “And I’m clean. You?”
He nodded, then kissed me, and we stopped talking after that.
The time for words had passed.
We joined, doing it as slowly as we could, and I could feel his heart thundering under the palm of my hand. We didn’t move for a long time, just savoring the closeness of our bodies, and then he was kissing me again. We were moving, our bodies rocking against each other, until I lost track of where my pleasure ended and his started.
“Declan,” I moaned softly, not knowing what else to say. There were a thousand things I wanted, even needed, to say… but I didn’t want to break the spell.
“Olivia,” he whispered into my ear. I tightened my legs around his waist, and we succumbed to the moment. I moved my hips in tandem with his, rocking myself against his body, and tried to ignore the despair that lurked underneath my pleasure.
What if he’s the only man in the world for me? The thought was dangerous, unthinkable, terribly vulnerable. But in that moment, it was true too, and I came hard and long, gasping for breath in my lover’s arms.
“Olivia,” he said once more, his body tightening before the inevitable release. Afterward, we didn’t move for a long time, as if we both knew that by breaking apart, we risked losing that invisible thread that connected us.
And that…
That was scary.
I woke gently in the morning, slowly becoming aware of the sound of Declan’s steady breathing, and the weight of his arm on my waist. The early morning light played across his face, highlighting his dark lashes, his sharp nose, his tousled hair.
I bit my lip. Part of me felt like something important had changed. We’d made it past our first big fight as a couple—not that we were a couple, exactly. We were something more than a fling, but less than official boyfriend-girlfriend status. An affair, perhaps?
I smiled to myself. That sounded suitably European and glamorous.
But my smile died away quickly. His thirst for revenge still worried me. I knew the O’Rourkes had hurt him deeply, and I understood him wanting to protect his family and community against them. But that wasn’t the same thing as actively hurting them. Revenge was appealing in theory. Unfortunately in reality, it always seemed to bring unintended consequences, usually to innocent bystanders—like Catie—who got hurt along the way.
Then there was my half of our fight. With the distance of a few days time, I could forgive him for not telling me he was @DBCoder. I had my own emotional baggage about my online world and my real world intersecting, and I’d projected those fears onto his actions in a way that wasn’t fair to him. With my new perspective, I could see that he’d been trying to protect our relationship.
What worried me was that his version of “protecting our relationship” involved withholding information from me. If this was going to last, we needed to be able to communicate with each other.
But by definition, we couldn’t last. Even if Declan was the relationship type—which he wasn’t—I was going back to America in less than a month. The distance scared me, and the last thing I wanted was to be together but apart. Maybe I could stay here in Ireland. Maybe I could?—
No, Olivia, don’t play with fire, my inner voice chimed. Don’t break your own heart.
“Stop it,” Declan mumbled sleepily.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re staring at me and overthinking everything. I can feel it.” He cracked one eye open and glared at me accusingly.
I couldn’t help it. I giggled.
He smiled and tugged me closer, tucking me under his chin. He sighed elaborately. “Go on. Tell me what you’re worried about, so I can convince you you’re wrong.”
Admitting there was a part of me that wanted our relationship to last felt far too personal, so instead I said, “Tell me about your handle. @DBCoder. Why’d you pick it? It’s a reference to that plane hijacker you like, right?”
“DB Cooper,” he confirmed. “Hijacked a plane in the 70s without hurting anyone, then parachuted away with a bag of stolen cash never to be seen again. I’ve always liked the idea of someone who broke the rules, got rich, and made a clean getaway.”
I wiggled my toes, liking the feel of our limbs tangled together in the soft hotel sheets. “You got what you wanted. You got rich. And you didn’t even have to hijack a plane.”
“Yeah.” He trailed his hand up and down my spine in a lazy path. “I used to envy the money the most. Now I envy the clean getaway.”
I rolled back far enough to see his face clearly. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing. Just… Running Snug comes with a lot of power, but it also comes with certain responsibilities. Sinead could run away to the States when she wanted to. And I…can’t.”
My heart skipped a beat. Was he saying what I thought he was saying?
“I never realized you wanted to live anywhere but Ireland,” I said carefully.
“I didn’t. I don’t. My mum’s there. My friends are there. Plus, if I leave, there will be no one to stop O’Rourke from bullying the whole bloody village.” He sat up and swung his legs over the bed, turning his back to me. “But…you know. The thought crossed my mind about a week ago. And as soon as it did, I realized it wasn’t an option.”
A week ago , I thought, feeling a little breathless. That was a little after we’d started sleeping together.
Had Declan thought, even for a second, about moving to the US for me?
Declan stood and tugged on his pants. “The less interesting answer is that @DBCoder is just my initials plus my job.”
I blinked. He was right. Declan Byrne, computer coder . “When you say it like that, I feel stupid for not putting it together sooner.”
He laughed.
I reached for my robe. “Aren’t you going to ask me about my username?”
He looked up from buttoning his shirt. “@1000words? It’s a reference to that saying, ‘a picture’s worth a thousand words’ because you review children’s picture books. Right?”
“Right.” I wrinkled my nose. “I guess I’m not particularly mysterious.”
His smile was crooked. “You’re mysterious enough for me.” He reached for the belt of my robe and tugged me in for a kiss. I fell against him, tempted to give in to the pleasure his mouth offered, but something nagged at me. Something I needed to know the truth about.
“You said you recommended my blog for sponsorship because I was good and deserved it. Was there any other reason? Anything at all?”
Something I couldn’t read flashed in his eyes.
I waited.
If this was just about money and him thinking every joy-filled hobby had to be turned into a side hustle…
“I wanted you to have options,” Declan said at last. “In case you decided you were tired of fixing other people’s lives and wanted to stay somewhere long enough to build a life of your own.”
“Oh,” I said.
He wasn’t outright telling me he wanted this thing between us to last. But in his own way, he’d made a plan to make it possible.
Hope flooded through me. He wants a future, too.
But if we were going to try to hold on to each other, then I couldn’t brush aside everything that had driven us to take a break. The gap between affair and real relationship felt full of questions that could tear us apart again.
“It’s just one sponsorship,” I hedged. “And they could still say no.”
“They want a video of you reading, right? I could help you film it,” Declan offered. “When we get back home.”
When we get back home. He probably didn’t even notice his words. The casual way he offered his home to me.
I reached up to touch his face. “Thank you.”
This time, when Declan leaned down to kiss me, I ignored everything but him, and kissed him back.