Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
New York—Present Day
Olivia shifted, trying to force her favorite weighted blanket off. It was too hot. The blanket moved again, and scent enveloped her, even as crisp arm hair rasped against the bare skin of her belly.
She knew before she opened her eyes who it was, but what she couldn’t figure out was how it had happened. Cracking her eyes open an inch, she saw Declan’s face, slack with sleep on the pillow beside her.
Olivia held still, the surrealness of the situation hitting her. Without moving her head, she saw by the early dawn light coming through the crack in the curtains that she was in her hotel room.
How had she gotten back here? Olivia scanned her memories for some explanation. There was the gala, eating dinner, Courtney accusing her of hitting on Chris… but then everything else was a blur.
There were only flashes of scenes in her brain. Hazy faces, dark quiet shifting to noise, the cold porcelain of the bathroom floor under her knees, someone stroking her hair…
Somehow, she was back in her hotel room, and Declan was in bed with her. His heavy arm was thrown across her bare stomach and a leg was thrown over hers.
Oh my god!
Fabric pulled across her chest when she tried to move away, and she realized she was wearing an oversized T-shirt. The only skin exposed was where the fabric had been pushed up. Even though her brain was trying to tell her something was very, very wrong with this situation, her body didn’t seem to care.
Her hormones had fixated on his massive, bare chest half-draped over her and the large hand resting next to her face. Declan was even bigger than he had been as a younger man. Her eyes greedily traced the ridges of definition on his chest and the outline of the heavy muscles in his arm. Heat pooled in her belly, and she fought the urge to turn further into the embrace.
What is wrong with you? He’s an arrogant ass who didn’t even remember you. Did we have sex?
No. She remembered how it felt after Declan had been inside her.
A shot of lust between her legs made her want to curse.
Really, Olivia?
Her head ached as she tried to force the memories back. Olivia studied Declan, noting the differences from the last time she’d been this close to him. Her fingers tingled with the desire to trace his strong cheekbones, the slight scar near his temple. His nose was different. Slightly flattened across the top, like he’d broken it since she’d last kissed him.
The heavy, dark stubble covering his jaw was the same, and a memory of how Declan would wake her with the delicious scratch of his beard against her inner thighs rolled over her, making the insistant needy pulse between her legs turn into a sharp ache.
She was being ridiculous. She’d pined after this man for more than a decade, while he had completely forgotten.
And yet, with his face relaxed in sleep… the thick fringe of lashes hiding those mesmerizing eyes… This was the Declan she knew. Not the angry, cold man she’d encountered recently.
The hand by her head came down, skimming lightly over her breasts before coming to rest on the curve of her waist. Olivia could feel him thickening against her, and when he flexed his hips into her, a cascade of heat flooded her body.
Olivia bit her lip to stifle her response. Declan’s lips twitched, quirking up slightly in his sleep.
He was waking up.
This was going to be beyond awkward. Were they destined to only connect when she was drunk?
She should probably slip out of the bed, put some clothes on, reinforce the distance between them. Maybe she should leave the room.
But before her limbs could obey her brain, his face inched closer on the pillow, and his nose nuzzled into the hair by her ear, and she heard him whisper, “Petal,” before his firm lips closed over her earlobe and tugged.
Olivia melted.
The hand on her waist pulled her closer, rolling her until she cradled his erection, and he pressed hard against where she throbbed. His hips began to move in a slow steady rhythm, sending pleasure spiraling through her body.
She should put a stop to this now. Figure out what happened last night. But desire turned out to be more powerful than her rational brain.
Declan’s stubble scraped over the soft skin under her jaw before he dipped lower to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses under her ear, trailing down her neck and back up again, until his mouth found hers. Olivia opened beneath him, welcoming the stroke of his tongue against hers.
“So sweet,” Declan groaned into her mouth. His hand slid to the curve of her ass, pulling her tight against him. “You always taste so sweet.”
Olivia smothered a moan as he pulled her leg over his hip, and ground his hips into her core. One hand cradled her head, holding her still, while the other dipped between her legs, sliding under her panties and through her slick heat.
“Fuck, Petal. You’re soaked,” Declan groaned against her lips before delving in again, claiming her mouth.
Her hips rolled up, seeking more. One thick finger stroked inside, his thumb pressing in firm circles above. The sensations he elicited were too much, and the moan she’d been holding in escaped.
At that moment, Olivia didn’t care why Declan was there. She needed him.
“So eager.” He chuckled darkly when she undulated against him. “So fucking perfect. Always.”
Declan’s head lifted with a smile, and then his eyes opened.
Olivia knew the exact moment Declan came fully awake.
He froze.
The look of horror on his face was all that kept her from pleading with him not to stop. It felt like an eternity that they stayed like that, their bodies pressed together, Declan’s fingers still deep inside her, his erection pulsing against her stomach, hot and hard. His chest rose and fell, and it felt like every muscle in his body tensed.
Olivia refused to look away. Declan’s eyes were almost amethyst with passion, but more than that… He knew her.
She’d bet her life on it.
Declan sucked in a ragged breath, and her heart twisted when the walls came down behind his eyes, shutting her out. Then, as if she were a bomb that might explode if he moved too fast, Declan slid his hand away and rolled to his back on the bed beside her.
Olivia instantly felt cold and tried to ignore the heavy press of tears and the anger building in her chest. She didn’t understand the game he was playing, but she thought she might hate him.
Without a word, Declan sat up, swinging his legs to the side of the bed, his head in his hands.
“You remember.”
The sculpted muscles of his back drew taut, straining against his skin.
“I heard you.” The room was quiet, the thick glass of the window shielding them from the sounds of the city below. “You called me Petal… when you were waking up.”
A tremor ran through him, and Declan pushed to his feet, quickly stepping into his pants, fastening the belt, and reaching for his white dress shirt draped over a chair, all while keeping his back to her.
Olivia sat up. Looking down, she realized it was Declan’s white undershirt that she was wearing. Her eyes found her dress crumpled on the floor.
“Why did you pretend not to know me?” She wanted to sound unaffected, but even she heard the hurt in her voice. Declan shoved his arms into his dress shirt and began doing up the buttons without looking at her.
Her anger skyrocketed.
Is he going to pretend like I’m not here?
“Did we fuck?” Her accusation seemed to shock him, and he faced her, his hands frozen on the buttons only done half way.
“You think I fucked you while you were unconscious?” There was a dangerous note to his voice, and in anyone else, she might have used caution.
Not Declan.
“No,” she admitted. “But I don’t remember how I ended up here.”
“You drank too much,” he said, and then the corner of his lips lifted the tiniest bit. “Some things never change.” Then he scowled. “Though I would have thought you’d have learned your lesson by now. What would have happened if I hadn’t been there?”
Olivia’s face heated. “I didn’t… or at least I don’t think I did.”
Declan seemed on surer ground now that he was angry. “Does this happen a lot? You get drunk at business events and go home with any man available?”
Olivia gasped, and her temper ignited. “Fuck off. I only had two drinks.”
Declan huffed a disbelieving breath and sat to tie his shoes, leaving the rest of his shirt hanging open.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
With jerky movements, Declan scooped up his tuxedo jacket from the chair.
He was going to leave without talking to her.
Asshole!
“How about an easy one? Why am I in your shirt? I need to know what happened to me last night?” A bit of her fear must have translated because, with a heavy sigh, Declan’s shoulders dropped, and he turned back.
“You got sick.” He glanced toward the bathroom.
Olivia blanched.
This is just getting better and better.
“You said you couldn’t breathe, so I had to rip your dress off.”
“You ripped it off?”
A ghost of a smile teased at his lips. “Too many damn buttons. After… I put you in my shirt.”
Her gaze fell again to Declan’s chiseled chest, still visible through the partially buttoned shirt. Colors on his chest peeked from where the edges of the shirt moved. He has a tattoo!
Olivia licked her lips. Why is that so hot?
“Why did you stay?”
Emotions warred in his face. “I guess I was worried you might actually stop breathing.” His arm swung wide in frustration, pulling the edges of his shirt and jacket further apart, and bringing the ink on his skin into full view.
The air in her lungs seized, and her gaze zeroed on the image. Olivia surged to her knees to get a better look, and Declan’s eyes dropped to his body to see what had gotten her attention. He cursed and pulled his tuxedo jacket closed, blocking her perusal.
“When we met in that presentation, you pretended like you had never seen me before. Why?” Her voice shook, but she couldn’t tell if it was from pain or anger.
Declan’s voice was ice cold. “Would it have helped if I’d announced to your colleagues and my own that you and I fucked on vacation a lifetime ago?”
Olivia’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not what it was, and you know it.”
His face hardened. “It was a long time ago. From what I remember, we had a nice enough time.”
“Nice enough,” Olivia scoffed. “Is that why you have a fucking white rose over your heart?”
A muscle ticked in Declan’s jaw. “I have a tattoo. It has nothing to do with you.”
“Reeaallly.” She drew out the word mockingly. “You’re going to stand in front of me and pretend that’s not about me?”
Olivia felt like she was in a tornado of emotion. A tumultuous mix of relief, pain, and anger. It hadn’t all been in her imagination. Declan had loved her too. It was there for anyone to see.
Declan slowly buttoned his shirt, obviously trying to prove he was unbothered. “Thinking back, I believe that is what you said your name was. Rose, right? We both had our small deceptions.” He shrugged and tugged at the cuffs of his tuxedo jacket. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Olivia , but my tattoo has nothing to do with you.”
“Declan—”
“Do you honestly imagine you were the first woman I’ve lied to about who I am?” His expression was so unyielding he looked like a completely different person.
Olivia felt the first touch of uneasiness. “But you called me Petal just now.”
“Why do you keep calling me that?” Olivia asked, as Declan ran a fingertip from the swell of her breast to a peaked nipple and across her cleavage to give attention to the other breast.
“Call you what?” His eyes followed his finger’s movement as they lay on her hotel bed in Dublin.
“Petal.”
Declan lowered his head and sucked the tip into his mouth, before blowing cool air across it, making it instantly pucker.
“Because my fair-skinned friend…” He grinned at her before returning his attention to her body. “You are my perfect white rose.” His fingers traveled lower to circle her belly button. “And I knew this beautiful skin would be softer than a petal. I was right.”
He slid down her body, kissing his way past her stomach and over her hipbone, before dragging his nose up through her center, making her arch her back.
“A sweet.” His tongue licked over her, making Olivia cry out. “Delicious.” Another lick, firmer this time. “White rose.”
Declan sighed. “Olivia, you weren’t the first, and you weren’t the last. It’s just what I call women. That way, I don’t need to remember so many names.”
Olivia was suddenly very conscious of the fact that she was sitting in a hotel bed, wearing a T-shirt she had no memory of putting on, while Declan stood fully dressed, looking down at her as if she were a foolish child.
“Our brief encounter means nothing. It was a lifetime ago. Is it going to be a problem, Ms. Adler, or are you capable of being professional?”
Olivia swallowed hard, shoving the pain lancing through her into a box deep inside and locking it away. She had come too far and endured too much to let him ruin her career.
She brushed her hair back from her face and met his stare with one equally impersonal. “Not at all. Thank you for making sure I got back safely. This won’t happen again.”
Something flickered across his face but was gone before she could identify it.
“Good.”
Then the door shut, leaving her in semi-darkness. She flopped back against the pillows that still smelled like him, with an arm thrown across her eyes.
How is this my life?
A sudden need to use the bathroom had her up and moving. Olivia pushed the door open, reaching for the light switch, only to realize it was already on. After taking care of her bladder, she washed her hands, bracing for what she would see in the mirror. However, the smeared mascara and caked makeup she’d expected weren’t there. Her face was clean.
“What the hell?” Olivia leaned closer to the mirror to inspect her face, but her first glance had been correct. No makeup.
Her gaze fell to the trash can. She reached forward and picked up one of the still somewhat moist makeup-remover toilettes that almost half filled the bin. She looked from the paper-like product to her reflection, and then to the light on above her, realization dawning.
He took my makeup off and left the light on.
Even though it wasn’t full morning yet, Olivia didn’t bother trying to go back to sleep. After a quick online search, she booked a ticket and sent a text to Richard and Stuart, and a separate email to Chris, saying she wasn’t feeling well and would see them back in Atlanta. She tried not to worry too much about how badly she’d embarrassed herself in front of their potential buyer.
But what consumed her thoughts was Declan.
He was lying, and she couldn’t understand why.
Three hours later, when she was supposed to be meeting her co-workers for breakfast, her phone dinged with a text from Stuart.
Stuart: You’re going home?
Olivia: Yes, family emergency and not feeling great. See you Monday.
Following the flight attendant’s instructions, Olivia shut her phone off, leaned her head back against the seat, and pretended to sleep all the way back to Atlanta.