Chapter 4
Chapter Four
SUTTON
I'm trying really hard not to be the jealous girlfriend.
I'm failing spectacularly.
Bree Matthews has been at our house every day for the past week, always draped over Holden, giggling, and touching his arm.
Except I don't think it's Holden she's interested in.
"Earth to Sutton." Keira waves her hand in front of my face. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Liar. Spill."
I close my textbook. "Bree Matthews is dating Holden now. Which means she's at the house constantly."
"Oh." Keira winces. "That's unfortunate. And weird. Do they just pass women around? I’ve heard they do that, but I didn’t believe it.”
“I’m not getting passed around.”
“Not you, but Bree and her nasty little friends.”
"It's a nightmare. She's always there, always in the living room, always making dinner, always inserting herself into everything." I lean back. "And she's being perfectly nice to me. Like, aggressively nice. But not nice-nice. Like bitchy nice.”
"Have you talked to Declan about it?"
"What am I supposed to say? 'Your roommate's girlfriend makes me uncomfortable?’ I’d sound insane and jealous. I already told him I trusted him. I can’t let that bitch come between us again. I won’t let her.”
“Do you think that’s what she’s trying to do?”
I sigh. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
"Does Holden know about the history?"
"Everyone knows. The guys call her 'Declan's leftovers' right in front of her. Holden insists it's just fun, not serious." I shake my head. "But I think she's using him to get close to Declan."
"Have you told Declan this?"
"No. Because what if I'm just being paranoid?"
Keira squeezes my hand. "Your instincts are usually right. But you need to talk to him."
My phone buzzes. "Shit. I have to cover a shift tonight."
"How many is that this week?"
"Five. I need the money."
My shift is brutal—short-staffed, twice as many tables, and my feet are killing me. By eleven, I'm exhausted and smell like grease.
The house is loud when I walk in with music, laughter, and guys shouting at the TV.
"Sutton!" Crew calls out. "Come watch the game!"
"I'm good. Just got off work."
"Come on, just for a minute!"
I sigh and detour into the living room.
And immediately wish I hadn't.
The guys are sprawled across the couches in their usual spots. Pierce and Ashton on one couch. Crew on the floor with a bowl of popcorn. And on the main couch, Bree is sandwiched between Holden and Declan.
She's wearing tiny shorts and a crop top that shows off her flat stomach. Her hair is perfect. Her makeup is perfect. She looks like she just stepped out of a magazine.
And she's leaning into Declan, her shoulder pressed against his, laughing at something on the screen.
Declan's arm is stretched along the back of the couch. Not around her, exactly, but close enough that it makes my stomach clench.
And that’s when I know my suspicions are not wrong.
The bitch.
"Hey, babe." Declan looks up when he sees me. "How was work?"
"Fine." My voice comes out flat.
Bree turns and gives me a bright smile. "Oh my god, Sutton! You poor thing, you look exhausted. Come sit. Do you want something to drink?"
The offering of hospitality in my own house by the girl who’s seen my boyfriend naked makes my blood boil.
"I'm good. I'm going upstairs."
"You sure?" Declan asks.
"I'm sure."
I turn and head for the stairs before I say something I'll regret.
I'm pulling off my work clothes when there's a knock.
"Sutton?"
Declan.
I open the door in my bra and work pants. "What?"
He steps inside and closes the door. "You want to tell me what that was about?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Don't play dumb. You were pissed."
"I wasn't pissed."
"Bullshit. Talk to me."
"It's nothing. I'm tired."
"Is this about Bree?"
"No."
"Liar." He steps closer. "We agreed we'd talk about this stuff."
"I just don't like coming home to find your ex-girlfriend cuddled up next to you."
"She wasn't cuddled up. She was sitting there. Holden's dating her."
"She's using Holden to get close to you."
"What? That's insane."
"Is it? She's here constantly, always finding excuses to touch you, to laugh at your jokes."
"She's dating Holden."
"Are you really that blind? She doesn't want Holden. She wants you."
Declan runs his hand through his hair. "Even if that were true—which I don't think it is—it doesn't matter. I'm with you."
"I know that."
"Do you? Because it seems like you don't trust me."
The words hit like a slap. "That's not fair."
"Isn't it? We literally just had this conversation. We agreed to trust each other." His eyes search mine. "And the first time something makes you uncomfortable, you shut down instead of talking to me."
"I'm talking to you now."
"Because I followed you."
"I'm not jealous."
"You're absolutely jealous. And you know what? That's okay. I get it. But you can't shut me out every time you feel insecure. That's not how this works."
I sink down onto my bed. He's right. I hate that he's right.
"I'm sorry." My voice is small. "I am jealous. And I don't like feeling jealous. It makes me feel crazy."
He sits down beside me. "You're not crazy. But we talked about this. About trusting each other."
"I do trust you."
"Then act like it." He takes my hand. "Bree being around makes you uncomfortable. I get that. But I can't control who Holden dates. And I'm not going to kick her out of the house because of something that happened two years ago."
"I know."
"But I can be more aware. I can make sure I'm not giving you any reason to worry." He tilts my chin up so I'm looking at him. "I want you. No one else. You."
The words dissolve some of my anger. “Okay."
"So we're good?"
"We're good."
I’m suddenly very aware that I'm sitting here in my bra. "I'm tired. And I smell like French fries."
His eyes drop to my chest, then back up to my face. "You could shower."
"I could."
"Want company?"
Heat floods through me despite my exhaustion. "Thought you were watching the game."
"Game's over. And I'd much rather be here." His hand slides up my thigh. "And a shower with you trumps any game."
I should probably make him work for it more. Make him grovel a little. But his touch is melting my resolve, and I've missed him. Between my work schedule and his practices, we've barely seen each other this week.
"I do need to shower," I say softly.
"So let's shower." He stands and pulls me up with him. "And then I'll show you exactly where my attention is."
The shower starts innocently enough. We actually shower. He washes my hair, his fingers massaging my scalp in a way that makes my knees weak. I wash his back, my hands sliding over the defined muscles that I never get tired of looking at.
But then his hands are on my waist, pulling me back against him. His lips find my neck, that spot behind my ear that makes me gasp.
"Declan," I moan.
"Hmm?"
"The guys.”
"They are downstairs. They won't hear." His hands slide up to cup my breasts. "And the door is locked."
I turn in his arms, water streaming between us. "Are you seducing me?”
His mouth crashes against mine. Hard. He groans against my mouth, pressing me back against the shower wall.
His hands are everywhere. My hair. My hips. Between my legs. I'm gasping, clinging to his shoulders, completely forgetting why I was mad in the first place.
His mouth moves from my lips down my neck, teeth grazing my collarbone. I arch into him, the water streaming over us, making everything slick and heated. His hands grip my thighs, and he lifts me effortlessly, pressing me harder against the tile.
"I've been thinking about this all day," he murmurs against my skin.
"Have you?"
"Couldn't focus on anything else." His fingers dig into my hips. "Kept thinking about you. How you taste. How you feel."
The words send heat coursing through me. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. I can feel him hard against me, and I need him.
"Declan, please."
"Please, what?" He pulls back to look at me, his eyes dark with want. "Tell me what you need."
"You. I need you."
He kisses me again, deeper this time. One hand slides between us, his fingers finding me. I gasp, my head falling back against the wall.
"So wet for me," he breathes. "Always so wet."
He positions himself at my entrance, his eyes locked on mine. "Ready?"
I nod, unable to form words.
He pushes into me slowly. I moan at the feeling of him filling me.
"Damn," he groans. "You feel so good."
He starts to move. Each thrust drives me up the wall, the water making everything more intense. I dig my nails into his shoulders, holding on as he picks up the pace.
"Look at me," he demands.
I force my eyes open, meeting his gaze. The intensity there steals my breath.
"Only you. Always you."
I cry out, burying my face in his neck to muffle the sound. He follows seconds later, his body tensing as he finds his release.
He sets me down gently, his hands steadying me when my legs wobble.
"Okay?" he asks.
"More than okay." I smile up at him.
We dry off, and I pull on sleep shorts and one of his T-shirts. He pulls on a pair of shorts.
“My place or yours?” he asks with a cocky smile.
“Mine. I put on fresh sheets before I went to work.”
“Perfect.”
We climb into bed. He pulls me against his chest. I feel all the tension from the evening finally drain away.
"I really am sorry," I say into the darkness. "About earlier."
"I know. And I get it. Bree is nothing to me. She never was."
"I know."
"Do you?"
"Yes." And this time, I mean it. "I do trust you."
"Good." He kisses my forehead. "Now get some sleep. You look exhausted."
I fall asleep in his arms, feeling secure and exactly where I'm supposed to be.
Even if Bree Matthews is still downstairs on my couch.
But that's a problem for tomorrow.
Tonight, I'm exactly where I want to be.