CHAPTER 19
Summer
I shut the bathroom door behind me and lock it, because I need some privacy to freak the fuck out without being interrupted.
I don’t like to freak the fuck out.
I’m not exactly a freak-the-fuck-out kind of chick.
But that’s changing right this moment, because of all the freaking the fuck out that I’m now doing.
I steady my breath.
All right. First of all, I just saw Declan naked. I’ve never seen Declan naked before, but now that I’ve seen him naked, in bed with me, looking horrified because he thinks we did the dirty deed while plastered, I can’t stop thinking about his nakedness.
Because he’s glorious.
I’ve known for a long time now that Declan’s perfect. Like Greek-statue perfection. I’ve seen him shirtless a thousand times and in his swim trunks and, yeah, I saw him in his boxer briefs on the jet. But now that I’ve seen all of him, I know just how perfect he really is. And how big.
I’ve also seen his hidden tattoo.
I was pretty sure Declan had only two tattoos.
The Celtic knot band that goes around the thickest part of his left bicep, chunky and a dark turquois in color.
Then there’s the intricate aviation tattoo on the inside of his right forearm, in fine-lined black ink, featuring a stylized compass, globe, Navy anchor, and airplane.
I’ve always liked both of those tattoos.
But the third one… of course I’ve never seen it. Because it snakes around his butt, then trails over his hip bone, and stops at an angle just above…
I think I might be hyperventilating.
I turn on the giant, fancy rain shower in the giant, fancy marble bathroom. I keep myself occupied by choosing from the suite’s selection of expensive toiletries—body wash, facial soap, shampoo, and conditioner. I grab a comb, too.
I see an assortment of packaged toothbrushes, toothpaste, and mouthwash. Boy, they think of everything in these fancy hotel suites. I appreciate it, too. It’s everything a girl might need after getting sloppy drunk and hopping in bed with her best friend.
I let the duvet drop to the tile floor.
“Yikes,” I mutter at my reflection. Mascara is smeared under my eyes. All of Bruno’s hard work is long gone. Yesterday’s sleek and shiny hairstyle has been replaced with a fetching cavewoman look.
The rest of me seems the way I remember it, except that I’m hairless in places that nature never intended. But I see no hints about the kind of mistakes I may have made last night. No tattoos. No bruises. No piercings. Everything looks like it’s still in one piece.
Except for my pride. Which is strange, because not only am I not a freak-the-fuck-out kind of chick, I’m not usually all that concerned about my image.
But I’m feeling super embarrassed right now. Because whatever happened last night, it’s changed everything between Declan and me forever, and I don’t want him to think less of me.
I step into the shower and close my eyes, standing beneath the strong spray of hot water. It’s soothing. I inhale the steam. I let the heat penetrate my muscles. I do all this while I build up the courage I need to face the facts.
“Well, shit.”
I chicken out and decide to shampoo my hair first. Twice. And apply conditioner. And wash my face.
And now, I’m all out of excuses. If I fucked around last night, it’s time to find out.
I reach my hand between my legs and touch myself. My eyes fly open. I’m not even slightly sore. I don’t feel any chafing or pain or even a twinge of discomfort. Nothing. Why don’t I feel any of those things?
If anything happened between Declan and me, I’d be sore.
No question about it. I’ve never had actual sex.
I’ve never been penetrated by anything but my own fingers every once in a while.
I’m not a doctor or an engineer, but I just saw what Declan’s packin’, and there’s no way he could have gotten inside me without leaving some sort of calling card.
Which means I’m still a virgin.
I laugh to myself and stare at the water circling the drain under my feet. Still a virgin! I should be relieved, and I guess I am. But I’m disappointed, too. I can’t lie.
Somewhere in the back of my head, I’ve always hoped that, by some lucky turn of events, Declan would be my first. Not only that, but I had to admit to myself years ago that I was holding out for him. I didn’t want to give myself to just anyone.
I’ve always wanted it to be Declan.
So maybe it’s for the best that nothing happened.
What a shame it would be to hold out all those years for him, only to be too hammered to remember it!
I comb conditioner through my hair and feel myself settle and calm. I still dread talking to Declan about all this, because it’s awkward, but it could have been much, much worse.
My job now is to march out there and tell Declan that he can calm down, too. I picture him, wrapped in a towel, thinking he has to apologize because he’s taken a ride on the Summer train. I need to set him straight.
All I have to do is figure out a way to break the news without telling him the whole truth—that I know without a doubt we didn’t have sex, because my virginal va-jay-jay shows no signs of getting any action.
I finish my shower, towel dry, and slip on one of the luxurious hotel robes I find hanging in the bathroom closet. I comb my hair, look into the mirror at my squeaky-clean reflection, and tell myself that all will be well.
I step into the suite. I don’t see him right away. Then I notice him sitting on a chair at the dining room table, staring out into space.
I go to him and hop up on the table, swinging my legs. “That’s a top-notch shower. I highly recommend it.”
He nods. He looks sad.
“Declan, we’re okay. Really. Nothing happened.”
His eyes flash at me. He’s so handsome—and so tortured—that my heart hurts.
“I don’t remember much,” he says.
I shrug. “The last thing I remember is looking for Evander and Phoebe at a place called the Mariah Carey Chapel of Love.”
He widens his eyes. “Riiiiight. Beyoncé.”
“Except Beyoncé had a freakishly deep voice and a five-o’clock shadow.”
He manages a weak smile and reaches out to give my hand a gentle squeeze. Declan gazes up at me, his eyes searching mine. I see nothing but affection and gratitude there. And all I want to do is say it out loud.
That I love him. That I’ve always loved him.
But his expression sends a hot rush of fear through me. I want to look away, but I fight to stay with him, to return his smile the best I can.
“I remember something else, Summer,” he says.
“Yeah?”
“I kissed you.”
“You did. And I kissed you back.”
“You sure did.”
His thumb strokes the top of my hand. His gaze drops from my eyes to my lips, and without thinking, I run my tongue over them. Declan’s pupils dilate and his violet-blue eyes grow dark.
I may not be experienced, but I have a fairly good idea what’s happening right now. Why my cheeks are flushed. Why a rush of lava-hot need just shot through my veins and landed with a throb between my legs.
“Summer…”
Declan’s other hand touches my ankle.
I gasp.
His fingers slide up my shin, around to my calf, and brush the tender skin behind my knee.
A loud knock makes me jump. My leg straightens in a reflex, and I kick Declan in the ribs.
“Ooof.”
“Room service!”
“I’m so sorry!”