Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
DECLAN
The first thing I notice is the light.
Pale gold filters in through the gap in the curtains, brushing over the bed in soft stripes. It touches Claire’s cheekbone, the curve of her hips, the delicate skin of her shoulders where I pressed my mouth hours ago.
She’s still asleep, her hair a wild, sexy mess, the duvet pulled low, baring the long, graceful line of her spine. One arm is curled beneath the pillow, the other draped along her body.
She looks like a goddamn dream. Better than a dream. Because dreams fade. But last night? Last night is permanently burned into me.
I’ve woken up next to women before. Had flings. Nights that meant nothing. That were an escape. A way to shut off my mind for a few hours.
But this doesn’t feel like nothing.
It never did.
I let my gaze drift over her, memorizing every detail. The small bruises blooming on her hips where I held her too tightly. The faint red marks on her ass. The indentation of my teeth on her neck. All proof of how ravenous we were for each other. How unrestrained we were.
How damn perfect we were.
But it’s not just the roughness that’s completely unraveled me.
It’s the way her body kept finding mine in the dark.
Like when I woke to her climbing on top of me. No words. No desperate pleas. Just heat and need.
Her hair had spilled forward as she sank down onto me, slow and deliberate. Her hips moved in these slow, mesmerizing circles. Like she wanted to draw out every second. Every motion. Every damn heartbeat.
She’d tilted her head back, her lips parted, eyes fluttering closed as she savored the way we fit.
I’d gripped her waist, not to control her, but to steady myself. To savor her.
She wasn’t rushing. Wasn’t trying to perform. She just was. Riding the edge of something deeper than just pleasure. Something that felt almost sacred.
She leaned forward, bracing her hands on my chest, and whispered my name in the softest, breathiest voice. Not begging. Not demanding. Just saying it. Like it meant something.
Like I meant something.
In that moment, I wanted to mean something. Wanted to mean everything, even if I have no right to want that.
This wasn’t supposed to be anything. Just one night. A reprieve. A distraction from the news I received yesterday.
But Claire isn’t a distraction. She’s something else entirely.
Something far more dangerous.
I drag a hand down my face and glance at the clock on the nightstand, cursing under my breath when I see the time. 7:15.
My flight leaves in a few hours, and after yesterday’s storm and all the cancellations, the airport’s going to be chaos. I can’t afford to miss it. I have oral arguments to prepare for. Briefs to write. A life to return to.
I quietly slip out of bed, careful not to wake Claire. My body aches in the best kind of way, spent but deeply satisfied.
I dress one piece at a time, taking longer than necessary, if only to delay the inevitable.
But when I’m fully clothed, I have no choice. I need to go.
I drink her in one last time. She looks so peaceful, her lips curved faintly in the kind of smile that makes me wonder what she’s dreaming about.
As much as I want to wake her to say goodbye, I don’t want to steal that from her.
Not when she gave me more over the past several hours than I had any right to ask for.
Instead, I cross the room and find the hotel notepad on the desk. My handwriting’s a little rough but legible as I scratch out a quick note.
Claire,
Last night was unexpected. And unforgettable. One of the best nights I’ve had in a long time.
All my best,
Declan
I tap the pen against the paper, hesitating. Then I add one last line below my name.
Here’s my number. Maybe our paths will cross again. I hope they do.
After adding my cell number, I fold the note and place it on the pillow beside her, where my head rested just a few minutes ago.
I linger longer than I should, my fingers grazing the edge of the sheet. I want to crawl back in beside her. Pull her into my chest. Bury my face in her neck and breathe her in.
But I can’t.
I may not know her well, but I know enough that she doesn’t need someone like me in her life. She deserves someone better. Someone who can open his heart to her. That’s not me.
With that reminder, I turn and walk out the door, hoping she calls.
But at the same time, knowing she’s better off if she doesn’t.