Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
Declan
The house feels different with Emery beside me. The floorboards don’t creak as loud. The shadows don’t cling as tight. Even the river in the distance sounds calmer, rolling steady against the bank, soothing something inside my chest.
I unlock the door and step back to let her in. She brushes past me, coat draped over her arm, cheeks still pink from the cold. Her eyes move over the entryway like she’s worried she shouldn’t admire it too much.
“Want me to warm up your cocoa?” I ask, holding up the nearly empty paper cup.
“No.” She clutches her stomach. “I think I’ve had enough.”
“I’m going to toss these.” I lift the cups in the air. “Go ahead and hang up your coat, make yourself comfortable.”
“I’ll just follow you.” She falls into step behind me, only stopping briefly by the hall closet to drop her coat on a hook.
Her boots thud softly against the antique rugs as we move through the living room, dining area, and into the kitchen. She continues to the windows over the sink. I keep the lights off as I toss the cups in the trash can, then join her.
“You like the river view?” I ask. From here you can barely make out the black river water sliding through the darkness down below.
She reaches out, tracing her fingertips over the glass.
Her sleeve shifts, falling down her arm, revealing the faint green shimmer pulsing beneath her skin.
My stomach tightens.
She turns her head, peering up at me with a soft, gentle expression. “It tingles.”
“That’s probably not great.”
She presses her lips together and smooths her expression so fast, it seems she’s trying not to worry me. That’s admirable but impossible.
“Nothing major. More like it wants me to know it’s paying attention.” Her lips flicker into a quick grin.
I step behind her, closing the distance enough that her back brushes my chest as her breathing picks up.
“Still not great,” I murmur.
Her breath hitches. “I’m fine.”
“Did you have fun tonight?” I ask.
She turns, her body dragging against mine, the friction shooting sparks to every inch of me. She loops her arms around my neck and stares into my eyes, sweet and earnest. “I had fun with you.”
The faint glow pulses near my cheek where her sleeve has slipped to her elbow. I lower my head and skim my lips over her wrist. The mark brightens, a soft shimmering thrum against my mouth, as if reacting with pleasure to my touch.
“That doesn’t hurt,” she whispers.
“Good. I don’t want anything to hurt you.” Especially me.
She leans up on tiptoes and presses her lips to mine.
The kiss starts soft, more questioning than demanding, but the heat behind her touch unravels me fast. She slides her fingers into my hair, urging me closer with an urgency that sends warmth rushing through my chest.
I deepen the kiss, hands settling at her waist. She melts into me, body warm and eager. I curl my hands around her waist, gathering the soft wool of her sweater between my fingers. Effortlessly, I lift her onto the edge of the kitchen counter, and she wraps her legs around me, drawing me closer.
“Declan,” she gasps against my mouth, her fingers tightening in my hair, tugging enough to send a jolt down my spine.
I break our kiss and trail my lips down her neck, tasting the salt of her skin, savoring the faint tremor of her pulse racing under my tongue.
“Let’s go upstairs,” I murmur against her skin.
Without waiting for her answer, I slide my hands under her thighs and lift her off the counter.
She fits against me like she was made to—a soft exhale against my ear, fingers tightening at the back of my neck.
Every inch of her presses into me as I carry her out of the kitchen and into the narrower back staircase.
“I can walk.” Emery laughs, her breath warm against my cheek. “I think. Set me down.”
I snort and keep moving. “I’ve got you.”
We pop out of the staircase at the end of the upstairs hall, across from my bedroom.
“Ooo, a fancy, secret staircase,” she teases, running her fingers through my hair. “Conveniently close to your room.”
“Glad you remember.”
“How could I forget?” She nods toward the console table against the wall. “You gave me a mind-blowing orgasm right there on top of that fancy antique.”
“Mind-blowing, huh?”
In my room, moonlight filters through the half-drawn curtains, painting her in silvery-blue shadows. I set her on her feet beside the bed and slide my hands under the hem of her sweaterdress, pushing it up over her head. Her hair spills free and she shakes it out of her face.
“This is really pretty on you,” I say, tossing it toward the chair in the corner and missing. “But I need it off now.”
She laughs, the movement jiggling her breasts in the most enticing way.
I yank my shirt over my head, unbuckle my belt, and glance up just as she bends forward on the mattress, fingers curled in the laces of her boots.
“I’ve got that,” I say, my voice rough and urgent, kneeling in front of her, a penitent ready to atone for my sins.
My fingers graze hers as I take over, quickly working the long line of laces loose.
I slip off one boot, dropping it on the floor with a muted thud.
I tug off the thick sock she’s wearing, my hands lingering on her foot for a moment, my thumb pressing gently into her arch.
“Ooo,” she moans. “That’s nice.”
“Your feet hurt?” I work slow circles into a spot that makes her toes flex. She sighs, warm and open, trusting enough to give me every small reaction.
I remove the other boot, peel off the sock, and give that foot the same treatment. Her muscles loosen, her breath deepens.
She shifts, wriggling slightly as she reaches for the waistband of her tights. But I catch her hands in mine, guiding them away with a gentle firmness.
“No.” My gaze locks onto hers. “Mine.”
Her breath stutters. Her fingers relax.
I slide my hands up her thighs, the heat from her skin warm through her tights. I reach the elastic band at her hips and hook my fingers under it then slowly roll them down, inch by inch.
The fabric whispers against her skin as she wiggles and lifts herself so I can roll them down her hips, her thighs, the tender curve above her knee.
“Declan…” Just my name. Barely a whisper. Full of want.
I finally get the tights to her ankles and lift one foot out at a time. She’s silky, warm, and so alive under my palms. I can’t resist trailing my fingertips back up her calves, memorizing every curve and shiver.
Emery
Declan Sterling on his knees looking up at me with an expression saying all of his Christmas wishes came true at once pushes every thought and worry out of my mind. His touch is reverent too, roughened hands gently dragging against my calves, up to my hips.
“You’re stunning.” He presses a kiss to my knee.
The compliment warms me all over. Not that I think I’m a troll.
I put my whole face on the Internet every week.
But after I told my ex I couldn’t have kids, he treated me like something defective and couldn’t break up with me fast enough.
This morning, I told Declan and tonight here he is, no judgment or shaming.
Just naked appreciation written all over his face.
And God, the way he looks at me now—like I’m something he’d never take for granted—hits deeper than any praise I’ve ever been given.
Maybe he’s a great actor. But he seems so genuine.
And heck, from what I’ve seen, he wouldn’t have any trouble getting a different woman to come home with him every night of the week if that’s what he really wanted.
His hands skim up my thighs again, slower this time, almost cautious, giving me time to pull away if I want. He stands and cups my cheeks, his thumbs brushing my skin as if he’s memorizing the angles of my face. The tenderness from this usually gruff man almost undoes me.
There’s no doubt Declan wants me here with him.
I lean in and kiss him, wrapping my arms around his neck, wanting to be as close as possible. He drops his hands to my bra, pushing the straps off my shoulders, then reaches for the hooks in the back.
He pulls away and looks in my eyes, his eyebrows pinching together, his gaze asking permission. I reach behind me and unhook my bra, letting it fall slowly.
Declan’s gaze immediately drops and his eyes widen with desire.
I can’t help letting out a small huff of laughter. “You’re going to give me a big head if you keep staring—”
“Your breasts are perfect.” He cups them gently, his thumbs brushing over my nipples. “So perfect, I want to sketch you and tattoo the image on my skin, but I don’t think I’d do you justice.”
That’s probably the sweetest thing a tattoo artist—heck, anyone—could say to a woman. Definitely the most romantic compliment anyone’s given me.
“I like you so much,” I admit. “I’d consider allowing you to sketch me topless and trust me, that’s not something I ever thought I’d say.”
He rumbles with laughter. “I like the sound of that, Emery.”
“You’ll need something to remember me by.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I wish I could swallow them whole.
Declan’s gaze drills into me. “I won’t need a drawing to remember you if you leave. You’re hard to forget.”
If? We both know I’ll leave when I’m done with my investigation. And Declan’s bound to this town. His whole family’s history is rooted here. He wouldn’t leave and I’d never ask him to.
My heart throbs painfully.
I can work from anywhere, though.
I lean in and kiss him to erase the awkwardness. He responds immediately, cupping the back of my head while our desperate lips slide together. His teeth graze my bottom lip, stealing my breath.
His mouth covers mine again, deeper this time, the hesitation burning off all at once. No more hovering like he’s afraid to break me. His hands tighten at my waist and he yanks me closer.