CHAPTER THREE
DECLAN
Her arms wrap snugly around my waist as I guide my Harley through the quiet streets of my small town. The warmth of her touch lingers, and I wish she’d keep them there longer. I shake off the memory, willing myself to focus on anything else.
I admire Meridea for leaving toxic situations.
Maybe this isn’t a bad situation. She could be running from a stalker.
The way she clutches that backpack so tightly, it’s like she’s guarding something precious.
Whatever it is, I’ll just have to wait until she’s ready to tell me who—or what—she’s running from.
Kneeling by the fireplace, I use a poker to stir the logs. My white undershirt clings to my muscular chest while the black pajama pants hang low on my hips.
“That feels good,” she says from behind.
My cock strains in my pants again. This has to be the fourth or fifth time this has happened since I’ve been in her presence.
I glance over my shoulder at her. “Take a seat on the brown bear rug.” I gesture towards it.
“Is it clean? You know, free of bodily fluids?” she asks cautiously.
I laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah, just had it cleaned yesterday, actually.”
“Good.” She sits on the rug with her legs crossed, wearing red flannel pajama pants and a gray sweatshirt.
Did my sister buy a sweatshirt for Meridea to sleep in?
“You wear sweatshirts to bed?” I ask, intrigued.
She smiles and holds up her open palms towards the fire. “I do. It’s a habit I started in college. They make me feel comfortable.”
The tea kettle whistles from the kitchen, breaking our conversation.
“You’re making tea?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
“I can handle it,” she offers, rising to her feet.
“The mugs are in the cabinet above the coffeemaker,” I say, watching Meridea dart into the kitchen.
It’s better for her to make the tea. That way, she won’t think I’m trying to drug her.
I sit on the rug, admiring the orange and blue flames.
She returns a few moments later, holding two mugs. She hands me one, settling back onto the rug with the other.
“I made us chamomile tea,” she says with a smile. “Tell me if I added too much, honey.”
“Where’s the milk?” I ask, teasing.
Her eyes widen. “I can grab—”
“Just kidding,” I chuckle. “Honey works fine,” I reassure her before I take a sip, letting the warmth coat my throat.
Meridea follows suit and takes a sip after me. Maybe she just wants to make sure I didn’t slip anything into the water.
“It’s good,” she comments with a bright smile.
“Excuse my hair,” she says, running a hand over her hair that she’s placed in another low ponytail. Her hair was sleeker earlier. Now it appears thicker. I like it.
“It’s a hot mess after my steam bath and shower. I don’t have my trusty flat irons.”
My chest tightens, and I hear myself saying, “My sister left a pair in the bathroom drawer.”
Her face lights up. “That was so thoughtful of her. Tell her I said thanks.”
“I will. Hopefully, she brought enough clothes for you, too.”
Meridea laughs. “She brought too many. I’m only staying in town for a month. Then I’ll be on my way. By the way, who should I talk to about getting a job at the restaurant?”
I lean back, watching her. “You’re staying here,” I say firmly.
“Well, technically only for one night,” Meridea corrects with a smile.
“No, you’ll stay here while you’re in town. It’s easier for me to ensure your safety.”
She pulls her hands inside the sweatshirt sleeves and wraps them around the warm mug. “I’ve been managing just fine on my own.”
“I saw how jittery you were out in public,” I counter.
Her head drops between her shoulders, and her voice softens. “Being on the run isn’t easy.”
“Then tell me what’s going on. The more I know, the better I can strategize.”
“First, tell me how you’re able to afford this house.” She peeks at me through long dark lashes as she sips her tea.
This woman is going to bring me to my knees. No, she’s not. That’s ridiculous. And yet, how else do I explain my insistence that she stay here?
“I enlisted in the Navy when I was nineteen. Sort of a big ‘screw you’ to my dad,” I start.
“Became a Navy SEAL. Went on countless missions. Also worked construction over the years between missions. Four years ago, my mom got sick, so I came home. While I was here, I started building this place. So yeah, I’m good with my hands. ”
Her teeth catch the corner of her lip, and I swear I see a flicker of something in her eyes. Did she like that?
“So, you got a deal on your home because you were able to help construct it?” she asks.
“Yes.” I nod, watching her closely.
“Fine,” she sighs. “I’ll tell you what happened.”
The rage in my chest builds as she recounts the nightmare she escaped. Her boyfriend—a man she trusted—was a facade of decency hiding a monster. A sex trafficker.
“Good thing he didn’t catch you eavesdropping,” I say, my jaw tight.
Her eyes close tightly, her voice trembling. “I know. He might’ve sold me too.” A single tear slips down her cheek.
Before I realize what I’m doing, my thumb grazes her face, brushing the tear away.
A shiver runs through her body, and I pull my hand back.
“Can you put in a good word with the restaurant manager?” she asks, shifting the subject.
“On one condition,” I reply.
“What’s that?”
“You’ll stay here while you’re in town.”
“Declan, you’ve already done too much—”
“Let me do this,” I interrupt. “And give me the chance to destroy those five assholes.”
Her gaze hardens, a dark determination lighting her features. “We’ll destroy them together.”
A mischievous grin spreads across my face. “Now you’re talking.”
“So, where are you from?” I ask.
“Atlanta, Georgia.” She takes another sip of tea. “I went to college in my hometown. Always wanted to travel, though. Never got the chance.”
“You haven’t had the opportunity to do it on your own terms,” I say.
“Exactly.” She grins, then lets out a wistful sigh. “One day, I’d love to see the world. Once I finish paying off my student loans, that is.”
Meridea sighs and puts a hand to her forehead. “But first, I have to get out of this mess.”
“As I said before, I’ll help you get out of it.”
“I’m so fortunate I walked into the right bar tonight. Watching my back every day is exhausting,” she admits, her voice carrying a mix of relief and weariness.
“It is,” I agree. “Do you know how to defend yourself?”
She shrugs. “Kicking a guy in the balls and running, yeah.”
“Unfortunately, that’s not enough. I can teach you a few techniques. Do you know how to use a firearm?”
“Yes,” she replies, her tone shifting as a hint of nostalgia creeps into her expression. “Growing up, my dad had every firearm imaginable. He taught me how to shoot a Glock—the one he gave me for my sixteenth birthday—right before he was killed.”
Her voice softens, and her gaze drifts to the fire. “My father was a powerful man. We had everything at our fingertips. But he got tangled up with some dangerous people who wanted to take it all—and they did.”
A tear slips down her cheek, but she quickly straightens, her shoulders squared. “I keep that Glock with me at all times. Still, I wasn’t about to kill five guys in my house that night. Adding a murder charge to my already chaotic life didn’t seem like the best move.”
Our eyes meet, and I nod. “No, that wouldn’t have been a good idea. Leaving was the right call. But we’ll brush up on your gun skills. You need to be prepared for anything.”
“Thanks, Declan,” she says, offering a small, grateful smile.
We spend another hour talking about our hobbies and favorite movies until she dozes off on the bearskin rug. I take our mugs and place them in the kitchen sink.
Returning to the living room, I scoop her up into my arms. A soft sigh escapes her lips. “Hold me tight,” she murmurs in her sleep, her voice barely audible. Those words go straight to my cock. It hardens against her back. Hopefully, my hard on doesn’t wake her.
“Don’t worry. You’re safe with me,” I mutter as I walk up the stairs.
She buries her face in my chest. “You’re staying here with me, Meridea, at four twenty-three King Lane.” A sly smirk spreads across my lips.
Once inside the guest room, I pull back the gray duvet and gently place her on the bed before tucking her in. I stand in the doorway, watching her sleep for a few minutes.
My hard cock refuses to go down. I close the door and head to my master bathroom. I crank the water to steaming hot and strip off my clothes.
The heat hits me as I step under the spray, my muscles relaxing even as my mind stays locked on her. My hand moves instinctively, gripping my shaft as I press a hand against the tiled wall.
“Fuck, Meridea,” I mutter, my voice rough.
My mind flashes to her on her knees before me, taking me deep into her mouth.
She has no idea what she’s done. Asking me to hold her tight.
Damn it.
Meridea has made it impossible for me to let her go. When I first saw her at the bar, I wanted her. But I knew why I couldn’t have her - because I don’t do relationships. Yet as soon as I brought her back to my place, I knew I would never be able to let her go.
With that thought in mind, I stroke myself until I release, hard. My cum coating the navy tile wall in front of me.
“I’m not letting you go,” I whisper, determination etched in every word.