Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
DECLAN
It’d been a week of living in the same space as Penelope, and I still wasn’t used to it. Normally, when I went home after a long day, only silence greeted me. I didn’t have to see or speak to anyone. Didn’t have to give any consideration at all to someone else.
Exactly how I liked it.
But now, whenever I entered the apartment Penelope and I temporarily shared, silence never greeted me.
If it wasn’t one of those crackling fire and low rain sounds videos she fucking loved to put on the TV, it was dishes clinking or her muttering under her breath or that playlist she used when doing her chores.
However, the sounds that hit me tonight as I walked in were altogether new. Music drifted from a speaker in the living room. And it wasn’t Penelope’s chore playlist or Hamilton or the half dozen other musicals she couldn’t seem to get enough of.
No, this was slow. Sultry. Raspy vocals and heavy bass. A soundtrack that demanded to be the backdrop to breathy moans and pleas to God and the steady beat of a headboard against the wall.
And while this fuck-me playlist swelled in the apartment, Penelope sat in the living room, her back to me as she curled up on the armchair, the blue glow of her laptop the only light illuminating the space.
Apparently, the music was loud enough to drown out my entry, because she didn’t glance back. Didn’t even twitch as I shut the door behind me and toed off my boots, my eyes still locked on her.
Her hair was up in that bun my dick was overly fond of, wisps of hair curling at the base of her neck. She wore a sweatshirt that fell off one shoulder, showcasing creamy skin and a spattering of freckles I’d never seen.
As much as I loved her prim little cardigans, seeing this never-before-bared flesh nearly did me in.
For half a second, I wondered if my perfect little librarian was watching porn on her laptop. That thought made my partial wood shoot to full in a single breath.
Jesus Christ. Was that what she was doing?
I took a few tentative steps closer, wondering what I’d find on her laptop screen. What was someone like Penelope Shea into? She probably searched sweet, intimate lovemaking and got off to slow, boring sex.
But as soon as her laptop came into view, I realized it wasn’t porn. Not video, not pictures. This looked like…a document? Maybe Literotica?
Except then I noticed she was typing. Furiously. Her fingers flew over the keys like she couldn’t get the words out fast enough.
She still didn’t see me. Didn’t hear me either—probably thanks to the boning soundtrack cloaking my movements and the way her whole damn existence was wrapped around whatever was on that screen.
As soon as I was close enough to see her face, I found her…smiling? Not her usual, restrained, I’m-right-as-rain-and-shit-rainbows smile. No. This one was flushed. A little bit devious. A whole lot secretive.
The kind of smile people gave when they were drunk on something they didn’t want to explain.
I stopped cold, a strange sensation tightening my chest. Who the fuck was she smiling like that for?
I took another step, my gaze locked on her face. Her fingers. Her mouth. And then I was close enough to make out some of the words on the screen.
I want you to make me come. But first, I want you to make me beg for it…make me scream for it. For you.
Christ.
At the involuntary sound that left me—part choked groan, part cough—Penelope yelped, her entire body jolting as she jerked her head toward me.
She stared at me with wide eyes, her cheeks flaming scarlet in real time.
Blooming from that newly bared skin below her collarbone all the way up to her hairline.
“Jesus, Declan!” She slammed her laptop shut so fast, I was surprised she didn’t lose any fingers in the fray. “Do you sneak like that on purpose to irritate me or were you just born a menace?”
“What the hell was that?” I asked, my voice low and rough.
“Nothing!” She darted her eyes around—to the apartment door, my boots, the laptop, and finally back to me. No doubt judging how long I’d been here and how much I’d seen. “It was nothing.”
“Didn’t look like nothing.”
“Well, it was.” Her tone was firm, even as she shoved her laptop next to her, sliding it down so it was tucked between the arm and cushion of the chair.
I raised a brow and pointedly looked to where she was trying in vain to make her computer disappear. “I don’t know, rebel. That doesn’t seem like something someone would do if it was nothing.”
She lifted her chin, narrowing her eyes on me. “You don’t get to interrogate me in my own living room.”
“Our living room.”
Her brows drew down, those full lips pursed in a pout I wanted to kiss away. “Even worse.”
“You gonna tell me what I walked in on?” I stepped around until I was in front of her, bracing my hands on the arms of the chair and leaning down until we were eye level. “Or am I supposed to pretend I didn’t read the words ‘I want you to make me come’ glowing on your screen like a goddamn plea?”
Her breath hitched, her eyes darting between mine, lips parted like she didn’t know what to say…what she should say.
I was sort of hoping for something along the lines of, I actually wrote it for you, Declan. Think you can make my dreams come true tonight?
Instead, she said, “You invaded my privacy.”
“Nice try, but you’re out here in the common space. Kinda feels like you wanted someone to see what you were doing.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes. “That’s ridiculous. You have no idea how long I’ve kept this—”
Before she could finish whatever she was going to say, she snapped her mouth closed, pinching her lips in a tight line.
“How long you’ve kept what, rebel?”
“Nothing. Mind your business.”
“Is this what you always do when I’m gone? Put on your RedTube soundtrack and craft dirty texts for someone?” The words burned my throat, but I ignored the feeling, too interested in finding out what secret she was keeping.
“Drop it, Declan.” She placed her hand on my chest and shoved, forcing me to step back as she stood. “I mean it.”
Without another word, she grabbed her laptop and clutched it to her chest like a damn security blanket. She walked backward toward her room, never taking her eyes off me.
“I just want to know if I can pay to read it somewhere.”
She tripped over her own slipper, caught herself on the wall, and somehow managed to glare and blush simultaneously. “Keep dreaming, Declan.”
I had no doubt that was exactly what I’d be doing tonight.
“And wash your damn dishes!” she tossed over her shoulder as she slammed her bedroom door with more force than necessary.
I dropped onto the chair she’d been sitting in. Scrubbed a hand over my mouth. Tried to slow my damn pulse.
What the fuck was that?
Because that definitely wasn’t the Penelope I knew. Or at least not the one I thought I knew—Miss Order-and-Routines, with her laminated chore chart and list of rules she’d bound us to follow.
Nope. The person I’d walked in on tonight had been someone else entirely. Someone who wrote about a desperate need to come and a willingness to beg to get what she wanted.
I shifted in the chair, my jeans suddenly too tight as heat crawled down my spine.
What the fuck had she been writing?
More importantly, who the fuck was it for?
Most importantly, why the fuck did the thought of her sending that to someone else make me want to punch a wall?
It was just curiosity. She’d surprised me—that was all.
My eyes drifted down the hallway toward her shut door and everything that was tucked behind it. All her secrets kept close. And one thought overrode all the rest.
What the hell was my little rebel hiding?