Chapter 39
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
DECLAN
Penelope was glowing.
Not in some poetic, romanticized bullshit kind of way.
She was actually glowing—flushed cheeks, bright eyes, a near-constant smile, and a looseness in her shoulders that had been absent most of the night.
While the fundraiser had wound her tight enough to snap, the girls and a few well-timed cocktails had done their job in the end.
Now, she was buzzed and beaming, and I couldn’t fucking stop looking at her.
All night, I’d felt a pull, low and constant. The need to be near her. To touch her. To remind the room without saying a word that she was mine.
Goddamn, I wanted her to be mine.
Every look, every laugh, every smile she handed out to someone else made something territorial and unreasonable rise up in my chest. Which was a dangerous fucking thing since she didn’t belong to me.
But that didn’t stop the instinct from surging up, demanding I stake a claim anyway.
After most of the space cleared from the event, Tasha took over at the bar, shooing the nine of us out like we were unruly teenagers. The cool October air hit my face as I stepped out behind Penelope, laughter still trailing behind us from the stragglers left inside One Night Stan’s.
At the front of the group, Atlas had Sutton tucked against his side, and he bent to murmur something low in her ear.
A few steps behind them, Xander shrugged out of his flannel and draped it over Chloe’s shoulders without breaking stride.
Rowan strode in the middle of the couples, riding the high of a perfect buzz.
Lincoln was walking backward in front of Willa, the grin he shot me a mile wide.
“Five hundred bucks.” He shook his head with mock disappointment. “Should’ve gone higher, man. To really drive the point home.”
Penelope made a soft choking sound beside me. “That’s—”
“Keep walking, Linc.” I slid my hand to the small of Penelope’s back, guiding her around a crack in the sidewalk.
With my other hand, I flipped Lincoln the bird and watched as he continued his backward trek, hoping he was going to bite it while his attention was on Penelope and me.
Unfortunately, Willa tugged on his shirt sleeve and pulled him toward her before he backed into the street sign like I’d been hoping. “Watch it.”
He grinned down at her. “Always looking out for me, aren’t you, wife?”
“Someone has to.”
Rowan hooked a thumb toward Atlas and Sutton. “I’m hitching a ride with them. If I have to listen to Linc dissect Declan’s feelings all the way home, I’ll commit a felony.”
Lincoln held a hand to his chest as if he were wounded. “Rude.”
“Earned,” she said sweetly, batting her eyelashes at him.
Atlas unlocked his SUV with a couple beeps, gaze scanning the group like the pseudo dad he was. “Everybody good? Can you get home all right, Pen?”
Penelope opened her mouth to respond, but I cut in before she could.
“I’ve got her.”
Atlas raised his chin at me. “I figured.”
Sutton smirked. “He’s been playing I’ve got her all night.”
“Hopefully he’ll be playing Hide the Salami later instead,” Chloe said around a laugh as the rest of the girls joined in, sending Penelope winks and not so subtle thumbs-up.
Goddamn, they were obnoxious when they were drunk.
Penelope elbowed me lightly, her cheeks flaming. “I can get home just fine by myself.”
“I’m sure you can,” I said but made no move to step away, instead guiding her a little closer to my side.
Lincoln nodded solemnly, his gaze pointedly focused on my hand at the small of her back. “Definitely classic roommate behavior going on here. Totally platonic.”
“Jesus, would you leave already?” I said, exasperation heavy in my tone.
He laughed and turned around, draping an arm over Willa’s shoulders as he guided them toward his car. Doors shut, engines started, and taillights flared against the dark as they all drove out of the parking lot and toward their respective homes.
When the noise thinned out and only the filtered sounds of laughter and music from the bar settled around us, Penelope was still tucked against me.
Exactly where I wanted her.
Eyes closed, she tipped her head back and breathed in the chilly October evening, a light breeze carrying the crisp salt air as the faint hum of waves crashed in the distance.
A soft, satisfied smile curved her lips, and she looked like an angel of fire out here, red hair floating in the breeze, face tipped up to the sky.
She was so fucking beautiful, it hurt sometimes.
“So…” She slid a glance my way. “Five hundred bucks?”
I shrugged. “Seemed fair.”
She raised her brows. “That’s a lot to pay for coffee.”
I slid my gaze to her, letting it drag over her features slow enough for her to feel it. “I wasn’t paying for the coffee, rebel.”
Her breath caught, but she didn’t look away.
Just held my stare with those beautiful green eyes and that tipsy bravery that was going to get us both in trouble.
All night, I’d been fighting the urge to tug her close.
To kiss her in front of everyone who’d looked at her like she was up for grabs.
Dropping five hundred had been the safest way to say she wasn’t.
It still hadn’t been enough.
We made it less than half a block before I caught her hand and pulled her into the narrow alley between the bakery and the florist. She stumbled into me with a soft yelp, her palms landing flat on my chest.
I backed her up until her shoulders hit the brick of the building, the two of us tucked just out of sight but close enough to the sidewalk that anyone would be able to see us if they cared to look.
She breathed out a laugh as she darted her eyes between mine. “What are you doing?”
The alley was dim, lit only by a flickering security light over a back door several feet away and the soft glow from Main Street. It felt like we were in our own little world back here, though the sounds of life around us proved otherwise.
I leaned down and trailed my nose along her jaw, cradling her head when she tipped it back, to protect it from the brick. Against her ear, I murmured, “Thought you might want to check something off your list.”
Her entire body stilled before she flicked her gaze past my shoulder toward the mouth of the alley—toward Main Street and the entry to the bar visible from where we stood and the people still trickling out from inside, their voices and laughter carried on the wind.
She looked back at me, thrill and hesitation flickering in her eyes. “Here?”
My voice dropped low. “Here.”
I watched the calculation happen behind her eyes. The risk assessment. The list of pros and cons playing out in her mind. She could stop this. She knew the word. Knew I’d back off the second it left her mouth, no questions asked.
But she didn’t say it.
Instead, she looked up at me with parted lips and pupils blown wide and gave a small, hesitant nod of acquiescence. “Okay.”
My cock jumped behind the fly of my jeans, and I bit back a groan.
“Yeah? You want to be my good girl in this dirty alley?” I brushed my hand slowly down her side, catching the hem of her dress and reveling in her shudder as I dragged it up her thighs. “You want my fingers buried inside this pretty pussy while anyone could walk by?”
Her back arched instinctively into my touch, even as her pulse fluttered wildly at the base of her throat. She swallowed, eyes darting once toward the street before snapping back to mine—focused, intent, unmistakably wanting. She nodded again, more insistent this time.
A car door slammed somewhere down the block. The door to One Night Stan’s opened, and a group of guys poured out. On the sidewalk a few feet away, a couple walked by the mouth of the alley.
“So this is public play?” she whispered, a hint of nerves threaded through the words. “Definitely more so than the corn maze.”
More than she realized, considering I’d paid Atlas off so it was only Penelope and me in the maze that night. No fucking way was I going to let anyone else witness her like that.
It was why I crowded her against the wall now, my body shielding her from any onlookers who should happen by.
“This is you letting me touch you where someone could see,” I corrected. “And trusting me not to let them.”
Her breath stuttered, and she fisted her hands in my T-shirt, pulling me even closer. “I do.”
Those two words nearly sent me to my knees. I wasn’t built for people to put their faith in me like that. But I couldn’t deny how much I loved hearing her say it.
Or how possessive it made me feel knowing she meant it.
“Good.” I slid my hand up the inside of her thigh and cupped her pussy over the thin scrap of lace. Soaked. Absolutely fucking drenched. “Keep your eyes on the bar.”
She did as I’d instructed, turning her head and locking her gaze across the street on the front door of One Night Stan’s. Light flooded the sidewalk every time it opened, laughter and music spilling out like a warning.
And a blatant reminder we weren’t alone.
I pushed her panties to the side and dragged two fingers through her slit, reveling in the wetness that coated my digits. She bit back a moan, gripping my shirt even tighter.
“You liked being wanted tonight, didn’t you?” I murmured against her ear, stroking her slow and deliberate. “Liked the way everyone looked at you up on that stage. The way I looked at you.”
Her breath stuttered, but she didn’t argue. Didn’t bother denying it.
I eased a finger inside her tight cunt and circled her clit with my thumb. The breathy little sound she made—quiet, desperate, raw—made my cock throb behind the zipper of my jeans.
“Wonder what they’d think if they saw you right now.” I continued stroking her, dragging this out, building the tension until her thighs were trembling. “My fingers buried in your pussy. Their sweet little librarian with her legs spread in an alley, her body just begging me to make her come.”