Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Declan
Harper hurries over with a white cardboard box and the check. I’m one breath away from tossing every bill in my wallet on the table, grabbing Emery, and sprinting for the door.
Emery watches Harper fold the lid over the cake, her eyes wide and pleading, like she’s silently begging the woman to move faster. Her fingers twist around her napkin, the same way mine itch for her skin.
“Here you go,” Harper chirps, sliding the box toward me.
“Thanks.” I glance at the check, drop enough bills on the table to cover the tab and a hefty tip, and shove my wallet back into my pocket.
Rain hammers against the windows, blurring the street into nothing more than streaks of light.
I stand and take Emery’s hand. “Hey, Harper?” I call out before she disappears behind the bar. “It’s pouring out. Think your dad would mind if we cut through the back?”
Harper sweeps her gaze over us, her eyes lingering on our interlocked hands. Her brows pinch together for a brief second, then she forces a bright smile. “Of course not. Go ahead.”
I grab the cake, Emery grabs her bag, and we bolt.
The scent of coffee and cinnamon permeates the back hallway, and by the time I push the door open, rain has turned the parking lot into a silver haze.
“Ready?” I ask.
She eyes the freezing rain, her lips wobbling into a brave smile. “Let’s do it.”
We take off. Water lashes us with prickles of cold needles, soaking us in seconds.
She shrieks and laughs at the same time, her hand gripping mine as we sprint through the parking lot.
My boots splash through puddles. She nearly slips, and I yank her closer.
Her warm, slick body colliding with mine.
I fumble with the key, shoulder the door open, and pull her inside.
The slam of the door cuts off the rain, leaving only the sound of our panting breaths around us in the semi-dark hallway. She grips the banister, one foot on the first step, and glances back at me over her shoulder. Question in her eyes.
I nod, meaning go.
She doesn’t. Instead, she spins and throws her arms around my neck.
Raindrops cling to her lashes and slide down her cheeks. She’s smiling and breathless. “Even this doesn’t put us eye to eye,” she teases.
I can’t help but bend down and press my lips to hers. Quick at first, then slower, taking my time. She tastes like rain and chocolate.
“No,” I murmur against her lips. “It doesn’t.”
I shift the cake box between us. “Hold this.”
She blinks, confused, but takes it.
Then I hook an arm under her knees and lift her.
“Declan!” she squeals, laughing, one arm locked around my neck. “What are you doing?”
“Carrying you.” I start up the stairs, each step a slow drag of restraint. “You’re taking too long.”
She’s still laughing when we reach the top of the stairs, her breath hot against my neck. By the time I reach the landing I can barely see straight from wanting her so much.
I stop in front of my apartment door and gently set her on her feet. She clings to me—her hands looped behind my neck, the fingers of her free hand tugging lightly at my hair while I dig the key from my pocket. The metal slips once before I get it into the lock and turn.
We stumble across the threshold, mouths already finding each other again. Our lips collide in a kiss full of urgency and need.
“Let’s get these wet clothes off,” I murmur against her lips.
She nods, chest rising fast, eyes locked on mine.
I snag the cake box from her and set it on the entry table, barely glancing at it. She shrugs out of her coat, letting it fall in a damp heap. I catch it before it hits the floor, toss it aside, and pull her closer.
She shivers, teeth clicking softly.
“Come on,” I say, lacing my fingers through hers. “Let’s get you dried off.”
I lead her down the hall, deeper into the apartment than she’s ever been. I don’t bother with the lights. The faint glow from a night-light and the lightning’s erratic flashes illuminate the path. Emery stays close, bumping against my side and squeezing my hand tighter.
In the bathroom, clean towels line the shelves near the shower, and warm air drifts from the grate by the sink.
“Arms up.” I tug at the hem of her sweater.
She obeys without hesitation. Her skin grazes mine as I tug the sweater over her head and drop it to the floor. The thin shirt beneath clings to her, darkened by rain, outlining every curve. Her hair’s damp against her face, cheeks flushed, eyes lit with the same urgency twisting through me.
Another shiver runs through her and she pulls the shirt up herself, tossing it aside with a wed thud.
I bite down on my lower lip, taking her in. Even her bra is soaked, the fabric so dark I can’t tell its color. It molds to her, the damp satin tracing the hard peaks of her nipples.
“Your turn.” Her voice is quiet but demanding, chin tilting toward my chest.
“No, keep going.”
Laughing softly, she reaches behind her back and unhooks her bra, slowly letting the straps fall down her shoulders while holding my gaze.
“All right, all right.” I quickly jerk my shirt over my head and drop it on the floor. “Better?”
“Oh, yes.” Her mouth curves, eyes tracing every inch of exposed skin with open admiration. I’m used to attention from women, but from Emery it feels different—grateful instead of greedy.
She reaches for me, then freezes mid-movement. The green shimmer around her wrist flares in the dim light, casting ghost-colored shadows on her skin.
“Declan…” Her voice is a whisper caught between fear and wonder.
I wrap my hand around her wrist. The warmth hums against my skin, a steady rhythm syncing with my heartbeat. Not burning. Just alive.
Her breathing evens out. The fear that flashed in her eyes a moment ago melts into trust. Trust I probably don’t deserve.
“It doesn’t hurt, right?” I ask.
She shakes her head, a damp curl brushing her cheek. “Feels… warm.”
“Good.” I drag my thumb along the inside of her wrist. The hum eases under my touch, the glow dims and her pulse slows until it matches mine.
I snag a thick black towel from the shelf, snap it open, and drape it over her shoulders. She grabs the edges, pulling it snug across her chest as one last shiver racks her.
“Do you want to take a shower f—” I stop, clear my throat. The word first dies on my tongue. “—uh, a hot one. You’re freezing.”
She ducks her head a little, a quick, shy smile tugging at her lips before she glances up through her lashes. “Only if you’re joining me.”
“Planning to.” I brush my thumb over her cheek. “But I like the invitation.”
Towel clutched one-handed, she wriggles out of her jeans, kicking them aside in a tangle.
I crank the faucet, steam billowing up to cloud the mirror. Pulling the curtain back with a metallic scrape, I nod toward the spray. “You first.”
She seems shy tonight. As she edges closer to the shower, I turn away, giving her an illusion of privacy.
The towel hits my shoulder, and I grab it before it falls on the floor.
She steps under the cascade and lets out a sigh that travels straight to my groin.
Water slicks her skin, carving paths down her back as she tilts her head, face toward the spray, eyes closed against the heat.
I’m showering with Emery.
I shed the rest of my clothes fast, the tile cold under my feet. The curtain rasps shut behind me, sealing us in a haze of steam and pounding water. Her back’s still to me but she glances over her shoulder, a teasing smile playing over her lips.
I close the gap between us and settle my hands on her hips.
She leans into me, her head falling against my chest.
“Warmer?” I ask, sliding one hand up her side, splaying my fingers over her ribs. The green shimmering on her wrist catches my eye, and a shadow of guilt falls over me. Would she be here right now without the mark?
“Much.” She sighs and leans more of her weight on me. She tips her head back, eyes watching me, and raises one hand, trailing a finger over my cheek. “I hope I don’t regret telling you that I’ve been thinking about some version of this since we met.”
I guess that answers my question. Her words chase any doubts back into the shadows.
Even if this has no chance of going anywhere, at least whatever we have will be real.
She’s choosing to be here with me. My pulse kicks up, heat flooding through me despite the cooling spray.
But beneath my excitement, the rusty edge of anxiety grazes me.
She’ll be the first in…longer than I want to calculate.
And I didn’t have certain…things the last time I was with someone.
I guess I’ll find out just how curious my little crow really is.
Eager to see her wide, surprised eyes, I grab the soap, lather it between my palms, and start low on her stomach, circling slowly.
Her abs relax under the pressure, a low hum vibrating in her throat.
I slide higher, over her ribs, cupping her breasts—thumbs brushing the peaks until her breath hitches.
She shuts her eyes, water clinging to her lashes like dew, lips parting on a sigh.
The thread holding me back frays. I spin her around, pressing her to the tile. Her gasp echoes off the walls as I take her mouth. Chocolate lingers on her tongue, faint and sweet, mingling with the rush of water sluicing between us.
She pulls back first, her breaths quick and shallow, eyes locked on mine with a seriousness that pins me in place. “I need more.”
“So do I.” I trail my mouth down her neck, tongue catching the tang of salt from her skin.
She runs her fingers through my hair, the slight scraping sensation sending needles of pleasure all over my body. I drop to my knees, the wet tile biting into them as I hook one of her legs over my shoulder.
She squeals with surprise and laughs, steadying herself against the wall with one hand and her other in my hair. I press forward, tongue delving, tasting her like a starved man.