Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
PENELOPE
By the time I stepped through the front door of the apartment, the determination I’d started the day with had fizzled into a ball of nerves and self-doubt.
And that only ratcheted up when I spotted Declan on the couch. Bare feet, white T-shirt thin enough to allow shadows of his tattoos to peek through, and a worn pair of jeans that looked as soft as butter.
His attention landed on me as soon as the door clicked shut, his gaze raking over me in a way that made me feel like I was wearing both too many and not enough clothes.
“Hey,” he said, voice low. And only then did I realize my supposed-to-hate-everyone cat lay on the top of the couch, Darcy’s body curled around Declan’s head, his front and back paws resting on the man’s broad shoulders.
Traitorous little gremlin.
“Hi.” My voice came out breathy and thin, like I’d just jogged through the whole town twice instead of walking the three blocks home from the library.
He set down his book, stood from the couch, earning an irritated tail flick from Darcy, and strode toward me, his eyes locked on mine.
He was probably going to tell me he’d changed his mind.
That the more he thought about it, the more he realized this was ridiculous.
Something he didn’t want to—didn’t have to—participate in.
He’d tell me how pathetic it was that I was over thirty with less experience than most teenagers. That I was woefully unqualified to write what I did while knowing next to nothing about sex. He’d laugh and—
“I made dinner.”
“You—what?”
He lifted his chin toward the kitchen. “Chili. Thought you might be hungry.”
The words hit me like a brick to the face. Dinner?
I’d been bracing for mockery. Rejection. Laughter at my expense. But instead, Declan Steele—grump incarnate, reigning king of broody silence—had made me chili.
A pot sat on the stove, simmering on low like it had been waiting for me. This wasn’t a sandwich he’d thrown together. This was purposeful. Intentional. And it wasn’t the first time either.
When Declan was working a late shift at Steele Ink, I’d often come home to an empty apartment but a fridge full of leftovers, adorned with reused Post-it notes. He’d overwrite my demands for him to wash his dishes or clean up his beard trimmings with two words: EAT ME.
It was actually kind of…sweet. Considerate.
But no, I couldn’t start thinking like that. Because that kind of consideration was dangerously close to kindness. And kindness—especially from men like Declan Steele—was the gateway drug to feelings. Feelings I absolutely could not afford to have.
Not with him. Not with anyone.
So, I swallowed hard, tucked the moment into a little box labeled do not touch, and flipped the switch straight into business mode.
“Thanks, but I ate at the library.” Total lie. I averted my gaze and focused my attention on the notebook filled with my Fucket List. “I figured we should get started. I’ve categorized the list by comfort zone and curiosity.”
Declan raised a brow. “This is sex, rebel. Not a business proposal.”
That was where he was wrong. It had to be pure business, or I was never going to survive it.
Ignoring him, I said, “We need to set some boundaries and expectations first…”
As soon as I delved into the details, Declan’s teasing expression faded, replaced by something sharper. More focused. We discussed everything quickly but thoroughly—consent, control, check-ins, and safe words.
No pressure. No pushing. No assumptions.
“And protection,” I added as my eyes tripped over the item on my Fucket List that would make this talk a necessity. “I’m on birth control, but—”
“I’ve always used condoms,” he cut in. He pulled a piece of paper from his back pocket, unfolded it, and slid it across the counter toward me. “My last test was clear.”
My brows rose, surprised by how prepared he was. Had he gotten tested recently in anticipation of this? But then I glanced down at the paperwork, noticing how old the results were.
“These are from a year ago…” I said, unable to keep the question from my tone.
“Yeah.” That was it. No explanation. No further discussion.
“Shouldn’t you have been tested more recently than that?”
“How old’s your test?” he asked.
“Multiple years, but that’s different—”
“Why?”
“Because I haven’t had any partners since I was last tested!”
Declan didn’t say anything, just raised a brow as if to say exactly. Wait…did he honestly think I’d buy that a man like him had gone almost a year without having sex? That was… Well, it was absolutely ridiculous.
“You can’t seriously expect me to believe you haven’t been with anyone in that long.”
“Why would I lie about that?”
He…wouldn’t. Declan was blunt and unapologetically honest, and he had no reason not to be now. Which meant this wasn’t a line. It wasn’t performative.
It was just the truth, served up without fanfare.
He didn’t elaborate further, just kept his eyes locked on mine. His gaze was steady and intense, an unspoken promise saying he was planning to show me exactly what a year’s worth of restraint looked like. And he was going to release that explosion on me.
“Now, you gonna let me fuck you bare, rebel?”
Just those words from his lips made my stomach flip, the thought of him filling me up almost more than I could take. A shiver skated down my spine—part excitement, part nerves at what I’d gotten myself into.
Almost as if reading my mind, he said, “This is your show, so you set the pace. You just tell me what you want. Nothing’s off-limits.”
I bit my lower lip, my mind spinning in a thousand different directions…all of them depraved. “Nothing?”
“Nothing. Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you,” he said, his voice pure gravel. “For research.”
Right. Research.
I latched on to that word like a lifeline. This wasn’t about him wanting me. It was about him helping me. And if he got off while doing it, well…wasn’t that what men wanted anyway?
I just needed to remember to keep this all business. Predictable. Controlled. Detached.
“What’s first on the list, rebel?”
After scanning my notes, I selected something perfect for tonight. “I want to start with something low stakes. Something clothed.”
“Should I wear a tie? Maybe a name tag?”
I lifted a shoulder. “If you think dry humping requires either of them, sure.”
He froze, that incessant smirk fading, and eyed me with a focus that made me feel like I was standing under a spotlight. “Who’s in control?”
“What do you mean?”
He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, until my back was pressed against the kitchen counter. Bracing his hands on either side of my hips, he caged me in without touching me.
But I didn’t need him to touch me to feel him.
Especially when he dipped his head, his mouth hovering over mine so close his breath ghosted over my lips.
“I mean, do you want me to keep my hands to myself and let you use me to get off? Or do you want me digging my fingers into those thick hips, guiding you over my cock while I tell you exactly what to do?”
My mouth went dry, my nipples tightened, and my clit thrummed in time to my heartbeat. It took every ounce of willpower I possessed not to melt into a puddle at his feet from just the mere suggestion.
Which was proof I wasn’t ready for all that. Not yet.
“I—I want to be in control first.”
He dropped his gaze to my mouth, licked his bottom lip, then nodded once. “Fair enough. I’ll sit back and let you do your worst.”
An image popped into my mind—me astride his lap, writhing over him, grinding down on him. And then anxiety gripped me by the throat like it’d been doing all day.
My words tumbled out before I could stop them. “What if I’m too heavy?”
He looked at me like I’d grown two heads. “You’re pocket-sized, rebel.”
“For my height, sure. Not for—” I gestured to my breasts and my hips and my ass—all of which screamed plentiful. “What if I crush you?”
His bark of laughter startled me. I wasn’t sure I’d ever heard the sound before. Without warning, he lifted me into his arms like I weighed nothing at all.
“Declan!”
“Relax.” He cupped my ass and guided my legs around his waist as he strode to the couch.
He sat with me in his lap like it was the most natural thing. Like I was meant to be right there. And then he settled in, his legs spread wide beneath me, and stretched his arms across the back of the couch, forcing Darcy to leap off with an affronted mewl.
“You’re not going to crush me. And I’m going to enjoy every fucking second of this. Trust me.”
Even if I’d doubted his words, it wouldn’t have mattered. Because I could already feel him. Hard and thick and solid beneath me.
“You can do anything you want. Touch me anywhere.”
Breath hitching, I snapped my gaze to his. “Anywhere?”
“Anywhere.”
God, I wanted to touch him everywhere. Wanted to feel those thick muscles beneath my fingertips, wanted the heat of his body against my palms. Wanted to play with the barbell pierced through his nipple just to see what kind of reaction he gave me.
But what I needed to do was take this slow. I couldn’t get carried away.
So, I placed my hands on his shoulders to steady myself, slid forward a bit…and gasped.
The bulge in his jeans pressed against my clit, and my body hummed in awareness. Okay. That felt nice. Not mind-blowing or life-altering, but definitely nice.
I rocked against him again. And again. And again. My body somehow knowing exactly how to move even though this was the first time I’d done this.
Just as he’d promised, Declan stayed perfectly still beneath me, his hands gripping the back of the couch as he allowed me to control every movement.
He wasn’t quiet, though. And the sounds that spilled out of him—those low grunts and groans—lit a fire low in my belly, making me ache for something I wasn’t sure I could catch.
“You look so fucking hot like this,” he rasped, eyes heavy lidded as he watched me. “Still wearing your cardigan and those glasses and that goddamn ponytail I want wrapped around my fist. Starlight Cove’s perfect little librarian…grinding her good-girl pussy all over me.”
I whimpered, dropping my forehead to his, my eyes closing as I tried to focus on the feelings coursing through me instead of the incessant thoughts invading my head.
Wondering if I was doing this correctly…
if I was making the right noises, if I was pushing too hard against him, if I was supposed to be rocking faster or slower.
“You feel how hard you make me?” he asked, his shoulders bunching under my hands, his body strung tight as he held himself back.
“Oh god,” I breathed, desperate to believe him. Desperate to get lost in his words, but my mind just kept spiraling.
What if I couldn’t get off like this? And if I wasn’t able to come from something as simple as dry humping, what did that mean for the rest of the list? If I failed in this, would Declan even want to keep working through it?
No. Of course he wouldn’t.
That only sent me spinning faster, but I tried to push through it. I moved against him again, slower this time. Searching for the right amount of friction…the perfect angle. But it was futile. Not enough friction, not enough pressure on my clit…not enough silence in my head.
And the second I started thinking about how much I wasn’t feeling, everything unraveled. My hips stuttered, my breath catching for all the wrong reasons when I realized I’d failed. At orgasming.
I slowed to a stop, dropped my forehead to his shoulder, and closed my eyes, willing back the wave of tears that had welled up.
God, what did he think of me now?
“You okay, rebel?” he asked, his tone unreadable.
He had to be shocked. A man like this was probably used to women coming when he snapped his fingers. And here I was, grinding all over him and getting nothing from it.
No, not nothing—frustration.
“I just—I can’t.” I attempted to swallow down my shame, but it was still there, thrumming through me like static under my skin. In a shaky voice, I whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“Hey,” he said, his tone sharp but not unkind.
With knots in my stomach, I lifted my head, expecting to find mockery in Declan’s gaze. Or disappointment at the very least.
What I got instead was understanding.
“Don’t apologize.” He dropped his arms from the couch and reached down to wrap his hands around my ankles. “Sometimes it just doesn’t happen. It’s not a big deal.”
“Feels like one,” I mumbled.
He tightened his grip on me, his jaw ticking twice. “And any fucker who made you feel like that just because you couldn’t get off didn’t deserve the privilege of touching you in the first goddamn place.”
I blinked fast, my eyes burning as I held back tears. “What if I just can’t?”
“Can’t what?”
“Come. With someone else.” I lifted a single shoulder. “I never have before.”
“Then we’re gonna make damn sure we have fun trying.” He dropped his gaze to my mouth, his eyes darkening with hunger. “And I plan on trying real fucking hard.”