Chapter 8
SIENNA
My sleep schedule was still not fully calibrated to Parisian time, which meant I woke earlier than I ever would have at home.
I stayed as still as possible so I didn’t wake Declan.
He was wrapped around me like an octopus, his arms pinning me to his chest and our legs tangled together.
His breathing was as methodical and steady as the man himself.
Declan hadn’t meant to fall asleep in my bed. Every time after we finished, he’d said he needed to go.
I’d said okay.
And then he’d stayed.
He’d fallen asleep before me. I’d stared at him for much longer than appropriate, memorizing the curve of his nose and his slightly parted lips. All of his hard lines softened in sleep, and it made him even more beautiful.
He would probably run out of here the moment he woke. I chewed my lip, wondering if there was a way I could convince him to stay. I was greedy for more of him. More time. More orgasms. More late-night adventures.
I’m not a virgin anymore.
I pressed my smile against his skin.
For some reason, I thought I would feel like a totally different person after I had sex.
In reality, I was just a slightly sore version of myself.
..who was now completely addicted to how Declan made me feel.
How was I supposed to return to my vibrator now that I knew how good sex could be?
Maybe I needed to find another man to have a fling with back home, although I doubted many men could make me feel like I had last night.
Declan’s arms stiffened, giving me a half-second warning before his eyes popped open.
He shoved me off his chest and I let out a startled shout.
I landed on my back, bouncing slightly on the mattress.
He stared at me, eyes wild, nostrils flared.
Besides quickly tugging the sheet up to cover my bare breasts, I stayed still, body tense.
Clarity washed over his face the moment he realized who I was.
“Fuck.” His shoulders slumped and he ran his hands through his hair. It stuck up in chaotic, messy strands as though it was rebelling against his tight control.
“Umm, good morning,” I said carefully. “Not used to waking up next to someone?”
He stared straight ahead. “No.”
“Right.”
Declan’s blank expression made the few smiles I’d glimpsed last night feel like a distant memory.
Something sharp twisted in my chest. I was under no illusion that this was anything besides a fling.
A flinglet, more accurately. But I hated the thought of him regretting our night together.
I certainly would never regret it. I’d felt freer last night than I had in my entire life, running around Paris with a hot-as-fuck man who looked at me with desire and made me feel powerful.
I let out a slow breath and pushed myself to a seated position.
Declan still didn’t look at me.
The devastatingly familiar feeling of rejection crept through my veins. Part of me expected him to mumble something about having to go to a meeting before booking it out of the room, like my brother had done so many times…except he wasn’t moving.
What were you supposed to say to your one-night stand?
Should I ask him if he wanted coffee? Breakfast?
A time machine? I tried to remember how this went down in TV shows and movies.
For some reason, the only image that came to mind was a bare-chested man struggling to put on his socks without losing his balance.
Why couldn’t men put their socks on without almost falling over?
Wasn’t that a skill toddlers had to learn?
Was that true to real life or just a trope in movies?
I swung my legs off the bed and stood, crinkling my nose at the cold floor.
I scurried over to my massive disaster of a suitcase, suddenly self-conscious of my nakedness.
After tugging on the first pair of sweatpants I found and an olive green bralette, I located two socks and flawlessly pulled them on.
They didn’t match, but that was beside the point.
“I’m going to make coffee. Do you want some?” I asked.
Declan’s eyes slid to my face. “Sure.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but there wasn’t anything to say.
The hotel suite’s kitchen had an absurdly fancy espresso machine.
Luckily, it was similar to the one I had at home from when I went through my brief but intense espresso barista fixation.
I pulled a shot of espresso before grabbing the milk from the tiny fridge and drumming my fingers against the counter.
“Declan, how do you take your espresso?” I shouted.
“Black.”
I screamed and whirled around because he was right behind me.
“You need to work on your situational awareness.” He strode past me and picked up the room service menu.
My heart pounded and my hand pressed against my chest. “You need to wear a bell. We finally had to put one on my friend’s cat because she kept sneaking around, causing mischief.”
“Not every day I’m compared to a cat.”
I pursed my lips to hide my smile. “Here.” I held out a small espresso cup.
He closed the space between us, fingers slowly dragging against mine as he took it.
His face remained impassive, but his eyes stayed on me while he took a sip.
His intensity made heat roll from my head to my toes.
His chest was bare and my eyes flicked down to the huge bulge in his black boxers.
I looked away so he couldn’t read my obvious attraction on my face.
It wasn’t fair that he was so good at hiding what was going on inside his head while I was an open book.
I pulled another shot of espresso and poured it into a large mug.
I added steamed milk, putting my abandoned hobby to good use as I created a beautiful latte art blob.
And sloshed half the milk out of the mug in the process.
Hmm. Good use might have been an overstatement.
There was a reason I abandoned this hobby with a promptness and went back to my morning energy drink.
Declan cocked an eyebrow, sipping on his espresso while I cleaned up my spill. I narrowed my eyes, shooting imaginary daggers, daring him to say something. He stayed silent, but the corner of his lips twitched.
“What do you want for breakfast?” He held out the menu to me.
I blinked up at him. He was staying for breakfast?
“Chocolate croissant, please.”
He stalked over to the phone, speaking French in a low voice as he placed our breakfast order. His back was to me and my gaze may have lingered on his peachy ass, drinking in the two perfect globes…I gave myself a little shake and carried what remained of my latte to the balcony.
The humid summer air washed over me. What would it be like to wake up like this every morning? A man in my bed, fully sated from the night before but still wanting more, and drinking my coffee while looking at a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower?
I glanced over my shoulder when the balcony door creaked. Declan was moving the door back and forth so it made a sound.
“Best I could do without a bell.”
I snorted out a surprised laugh. “Oh, he has the jokes.”
He smirked and moved behind me, the heat of his body kissing my skin. I tentatively leaned back so I rested against his chest. His arms immediately wrapped around my waist and his chin went to the top of my head.
“It’s Bastille Day,” I said.
He grunted.
“I should have a really good view of the firework show from here.”
Goosebumps erupted on my arm while he stroked my skin.
Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. “If you don’t have anything else going on today, you could always hang out today until the show. Or you could come back tonight. You know, if you want to see it.”
Time warped as the silence stretched between us. Had hours passed? Or just seconds? I braced for his response, already mentally preparing for his rejection.
“Okay.”
I spun around in shock, sloshing half of what remained of my latte onto the balcony. Declan shook his head, plucked the mug from my hands, and said, “You need a cup with a lid.” Then he went back inside with my coffee.
I followed him through the balcony door. “Umm, excuse you. Stealing my caffeine will lead to the revocation of your fireworks-watching invitation.” I tried to snag my mug, but he deftly kept it out of my reach and started up the espresso machine. Was he going to make me a new one?
I crossed my arms and leaned my hip against the counter. Something orange caught my eye. My bottle of Adderall. I needed to take my morning…
Shit.
Shit shit shit.
The bottle had my real name on it. I lunged for it, hoping Declan hadn’t seen the label.
I hated lying to him, but Elira had insisted I use a false identity to keep myself safe.
Luckily, I had several identities prepared—all with expertly forged identification documents and online records that corroborated my story if anyone should dig into me.
The pills rattled as I poured one in my hand and took it.
“What’s that?” he asked sharply.
“Just my ADHD meds,” I blurted.
Fuck. I hadn’t meant to say that. I rarely told people about my ADHD.
I didn’t need their snide, judgemental comments or ridiculous suggestions for a cure, but I’d been too flustered to think of the name of literally any other medication.
I studied his face for a reaction, but he just nodded and returned to making my replacement drink.
A knock drew my attention to the door, but Declan blocked my way.
He handed me my new drink—I felt secretly pleased that his latte art was as hideous as mine had been—and brushed past me to get the door.
He checked the peephole before cracking open the door wide enough to pull a cart inside the suite.
I bounced on my toes at the silver-covered platters of food.
“Careful,” Declan snapped. “I worked hard on that drink.”
I stilled my hands and drank up all the foam at the top—the best part—to make it less likely to spill.
“You did a good job with this,” I said as I crossed the room to the food cart. “Maybe if your current career doesn’t work out, you could be a barista.”
His eyes twinkled with amusement. “Good to know. Where do you want to eat?”
“How about on the balcony?”
“Lead the way.”
I opened the door and Declan carried our plates outside. He held out a chair for me and I shivered at the brush of our bodies as I sat down.
He took the seat next to me, his huge body spilling out of the small outdoor chair.
He leaned back, legs spread like he owned the city.
For the first time in my life, sitting next to a manspreader didn’t fill me with fury because it meant his thigh was pressed firmly against mine.
Those butterflies in my stomach fluttered again.
He nudged my arm. “Eat.”
I looked down and did a double-take because my plate had two chocolate croissants along with a huge bowl of fruit, a fancy glass container of yogurt, and a small bowl of granola.
“Did they give me your breakfast?” Declan’s plate overflowed with eggs, toast, roasted potatoes, and bacon.
“No, that’s yours.”
I waited for him to offer an explanation. His unreadable expression didn’t change, but he let out a long-suffering sigh when he realized I wasn’t eating.
“A chocolate croissant is not breakfast.”
I nudged his arm. “I’m touched you’re so worried about my health.”
“It’s completely selfish. I need you to have plenty of energy for what I plan to do to you today.”
He took a large bite of food, his firm jaw chewing steadily while I stared at him. Fuck. I had no idea breakfast could be part of foreplay, but my core clenched and my body flushed as I took a flaky, chocolaty bite of pastry.
He was planning to stay all day.
Thankfully, the breeze cooled my cheeks.
Beneath us, people wandered the streets and I wondered what their lives were like.
Was that elegant woman in the black-and-white striped dress hurrying to an important meeting?
Maybe the man holding a paper-wrapped baguette and picnic basket was heading home to surprise his partner with a picnic.
“Eat,” Declan ordered, voice low.
I grinned and took another bite.