by H. Maloney
I pull my feet off the other chair and sit up. “What do you want, Declan? I feel like you’ve said enough already.”
He gives me a carefully blank look and leans back, running his fingers through his hair. In aggravation, nervousness—who can tell? “Meg, you have to know I didn’t mean it that way,” he says, almost imploringly.
Too bad my nerves are too rankled to just accept it. I stay silent, brows arched, waiting for him to fill the silence.
“I don’t think you’re not good enough for him, Meg. I meant he’s not good enough for you.”
I snort. “That’s not what it sounded like.”
He leans forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. “I know, Meg. I know what it sounded like, but that still doesn’t mean what you think it did.” I revert back to silence. He grunts, expels a heavy breath, and states quietly, “It means that you’re too exciting for Brandon. He’s a boring douche bag, and you’re beautiful and interesting and fun.”
My breath quickens and I force myself to gloss over the second part of his statement. I can’t handle it just yet. “He didn’t seem boring to me,” I deflect, zoning in on his comment about Brandon.
He reaches forward and grabs a strand of my bright red hair. Rubbing it between his fingers, he stares hard at it without actually seeing it. Every muscle in my body seizes, afraid to make a move and disturb him from his careful study, loving his closeness. “That’s what my problem was, Meg.” He drops the strand and refocuses on my face. “He’s not supposed to be the one to catch your attention.”
He’s jealous? I search his face, trying to ascertain the truth. “And who is supposed to catch my attention, Declan?”
He leans close and whispers in my ear. I close my eyes as his hot breath fans against my neck, causing shivers to erupt. “If you have to ask, Meg, I haven’t been doing this right.” And with that, he stands and heads inside. I have no response; I’m too stunned. All I can do is stare as he walks away, my mouth hanging open.
Did he just say what I think he did?
CHAPTER 7
MEG
Allie, Caitlyn, and I have a rare night off together, so we’ve planned to go out dancing at a club uptown. Its nine thirty and I’m putting the finishing touches on my makeup when they start banging on my front door.
“Fuck, people. This place is not that big; you don’t have to bang that hard,” I tell them as I open the door to let them in.
“That’s what she said,” Allie and Caitlyn both rush to say. Immediately, they start arguing about who said it first. I just walk back to my room to grab my strappy heels. They’ll stop eventually. and it’ll be quicker if I stay out of it.
I run a critical eye over my appearance one last time in the mirror. I’ve chosen a simple, short fit-and-flare dress that flatters my waist and plunges between my boobs to really showcase my cleavage. The back of it is my favorite—wide open to show off a few tattoos that rarely see the light of day. I’ve left my long hair down with loose curls, letting the black color of the dress really bring out the neon red of my hair. I topped my look off with a little eyeliner and mascara. Clean and simple because I know after a few hours of dancing, it’ll only run down my face anyway.
Deeming myself fit for public viewing, I walk back out to Allie and Caitlyn, who have mercifully moved on to a new topic. I stop to take them in and let out a wolf whistle. “You girls are hot!” And they are.
Allie’s got a body that makes me believe in reincarnation. She looks like a contemporary Marilyn freaking Monroe with shoulder-length blonde hair. She’s wearing a coral bandage dress that will make men pop boners everywhere we go.
“I can’t believe Wiley let you leave like that.”
“He didn’t. I got dressed at Caitlyn’s.” She smiles evilly. Shit. I hope no one from the club sees her. Wiley will have her over his shoulder and out the door before she can tell him to fuck off, which she definitely would.
“Ah. You must have let her dress you then,” I tell Caitlyn. She’s got a form-fitting, strapless top on and hot pants with fishnets. She looks incredible, but she isn’t usually one to go for both short and tight in one outfit.
She taps her finger to her nose to indicate I guessed right.
Allie shoos us. “Now that we’ve addressed our collective hotness, time to get going. The taxi won’t wait forever.”
***
Two hours and too many shots later, we’re taking a break from mindlessly shaking our asses on the dance floor. Allie heads to the bar to get more drinks for us, while Caitlyn and I grab an open table to catch our breath.
Caitlyn starts, “So, you never did say how your first class went.” Of course, Allie filled her in on the plan the other day. Probably right after she called me.
I haven’t told anyone what Declan said the other night, my mind still reeling with the implications. Have I really been the only obstacle in us being together? Have I sabotaged myself all this time? I shake my head to clear the heavy fog of my thoughts. I can’t think about that. I can’t let myself think that I’m the only reason I haven’t allowed myself to be happy with the only man to send my pulse racing. I especially can’t think of it with alcohol in my system. Now is not the time for soul-searching self-examination, so I play off Caitlyn’s question.
Bolstered by my alcohol-inflated self-confidence in my acting ability, I grin. “It went great! He’ll be mine in no time!”
She raises an eyebrow at me. I return it by using my finger to prop up my left eyebrow. “What? Don’t look at me like that. There was definitely flirting afoot.” Boy, was there.
“Then good, I’m glad.” She leans forward to put her hand on my shoulder. “You deserve it.”
“Enough being serious! I need to ply you with more alcohol. Clearly, you’re behind.” I turn my head to see Allie headed our way with a bartender in tow. I can’t control the giggles that flood out of me; of course she picked up a willing errand boy. “Perfect timing!” I cry when she’s within range, punctuating it by throwing my arms up in victory.
She smiles to her devoted follower after he sets down our drinks. Turning towards us, she offers him a wink over her shoulder, efficiently dismissing him. I swear I can hear his heart beating into overdrive from my spot three feet away from him. She grabs her glass and lifts it high. We follow suit and she screams, “Bottom’s up!”
The sickeningly sweet taste burns a path down my throat. I’m guessing this isn’t the Fireball whiskey we’ve been shooting all night. Blech! Slamming my glass back on the table, I wipe my lips with a cocktail napkin. “Are you trying to kill me, woman? That shit is nasty.”
“Kill? No. Maim? Torment? Maybe. But to outright kill? Never!”
Caitlyn is just as flattered as I am, which is to say not really. “Thanks. I think?” She directs the question to me, and all I can do is shrug.
“So Allie, I’m actually really surprised Wiley hasn’t shown up.” Seriously, her dress is so tight I know she’s not wearing underwear, and Wiley has friends everywhere. His head is going to explode. Little bits of Wiley’s brain would have to be removed from the walls.
She smirks. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he knows later. That’s how I plan to get home tonight.”
Caitlyn and I laugh. Crazy girl. “You guys have no idea how hot it is when your man goes all alpha over you. When he chucks you over his shoulder and fucks you for hours just to remind you both that you’re his? Best orgasms of my life are when he’s jealous.” Running her hand down her body, she shivers.
That does sound hot. Goose bumps break out on my skin as I wonder what it would be like to be the sole focus of someone’s desire. Namely Declan’s. I fan myself thinking about the possibilities. Would he fuck me hard to make sure sore muscles reminded me of him for a week, or would he punish me with slow thrusts over and over again, delaying my orgasm and tormenting me?
Caitlyn weighs in. “If someone ever did that to me. I’d rip off their testicles.” I wince in sympathy for the theoretical man.
“Yeah, but you’re a badass little ball-buster. To the rest of the female population? That scenario was hot.”
I agree with Allie, adding, “I need to get laid.” Identical expressions of sympathy stare back at me.
Caitlyn is the first one to speak. “That’s all right. We’ll find you a prime piece of man meat to tide you over until Declan gets his head out of his ass!”
Allie nods enthusiastically. “Hell yes, we will!”
I sigh happily and throw my arms around them in a surprise group hug. “I love you guys!”
Allie laughs and Caitlyn shakes her head. “And there it is.” In our group-hug huddle, I feel her look over my head at Allie. “I didn’t think she’d had that much to drink?” I feel Allie shrug in response, still laughing. I’m a touchy-feely drunk; I fucking love everyone.
“I’m not drunk.” And I’m not. I’m only getting the beginnings of a buzz, but I am excited to be out with my friends, dancing and drinking. “Let’s dance!” Not giving them a chance to argue, I pull them with me towards the dance floor.
Somewhere in the midst of a Jason Derulo song, my bladder becomes persistent. Prissy bitch. I let the girls know with the hands crossed, knees bent universal ‘I have to pee’ signal that I’m going to the bathroom and take off. I bypass the infinite line at the women’s bathroom and thank my lucky stars we discovered the handicapped bathroom a few club visits ago. The one that’s down the hall, around the corner, and gloriously out of sight. I’d pee on myself before I made it to the front of that thing.
I quickly finish my business and wash my hands. I spend a few moments finger combing my hair and wiping the black smudges from beneath my eyes. Waterproof mascara, my foot. When I feel restored, I take a deep breath and yank open the bathroom door to get back to it… Only to be forced to an abrupt stop when I careen into someone standing in the middle of the hallway just outside the door.
Strong arms grab my shoulders to keep me from falling on my ass, because I was definitely headed in that direction. I gasp in belated surprise. “I am so sorry!” I manage to squeak out.
“Whoa. It’s all right. You okay?” a curiously familiar voice asks.
I tilt my head up to see who the voice belongs to and I’m met with Declan’s moss-green gaze. Common sense, exit stage left. Cue the lust haze. “Hi.” I haven’t seen him in a few days. Not since the courtyard.
He laughs softly, clearly amused. “Hi. You okay?” he repeats.
He’s so close; my hands haven’t moved from his chest where I’d tried to find purchase before he caught me. If I answer no, will he keep his hands on my shoulders forever? Maybe I could persuade him to grip tighter and move lower? Talk about starting off our flirtation with a bang. I bet his big hands know exactly—
I stop myself before I can complete that thought and shake my head a little to clear it. Obviously, I’m still worked up from the caveman discussion earlier. What was he saying again? Oh, right.
“Oh, yes. Yes, I am. Sorry. I never really got a handle on the whole ‘look before you walk’ thing. Thanks for not letting me fall. I might have broken a bone from the height of these heels.”
His eyes drop to my shoes and slowly trail up my legs, slowly enough for me to thank the shoe gods for creating these gems that can make my legs look as long as they do right now. His leisurely perusal continues up my body and I meet him with a furious blush. Shit, now my face will match my hair. When he gets to my cleavage, he pauses. The appreciation evident in his gaze causes my demeanor to switch from flustered to confident. By the time his eyes meet mine my smirk is firmly affixed to my face. He returns a smile of his own and my pulse ramps up likes it’s racing in the Indy 500. I can feel the adrenaline flowing through my veins, burning the alcohol in its wake. Declan’s hungry gaze is sobering, but this is way better than a buzz.
“So,” I say, mostly to continue this favorable encounter. “What brings you to the darkened hallways of a club? No one told you about the bathroom, did they?” I glance side to side, suspiciously looking for unwelcome bathroom lurkers. It really would be tragic if the secret gets out. “I was hoping to take this secret to my grave, to be honest.”
“No, I was just trying to get away from people for a few minutes.”
“You were so close and then I showed up and ruined it.”
“No, you didn’t ruin anything. You made it better, actually.” I try to contain my blush. “It’s the crowds that get me.”
“Ah, not a huge fan of the overheated bodies grinding against yours?” Half knowing what I’m insinuating, I realize it’s official; the alcohol has booted my filter off the premises. I don’t care that I’m no longer under the influence. Details, details.
He raises an eyebrow at me. “Something like that. Forced here for Mark’s bachelor party.” I knew Mark. He was a regular on fight nights at The Seventh Circle too. Nice guy, a little shy. I didn’t even know he was engaged.
“That’s great! Tell him congratulations for me.”
He nods and lifts one side of his lips in what looks to be a mischievous smile. “And what about you. Are you a fan of ‘overheated bodies grinding against yours’? ” Mischievous indeed.
I’m too nervous and worked up and sexually frustrated to have this conversation and to conduct myself like a lady. Oh, well. “Actually… I’m a huge fan.” I match his smile with an attempt at a seductive one. I made my decision, and his words the other day did nothing but encourage me.
He finally drops his hands from my shoulders and I follow suit, bringing my arms reluctantly back to my sides. He reaches up to rub the back of his neck. Oh, holy hell. Now that I’m no longer glued to him, it’s my turn to take him in. Turnabout’s fair play, after all. I start from the bottom the same way he did. Scuffed black boots meet black jeans that fit him so well they had to be made for him. They showcase his muscular thighs without being too tight. I don’t let my eyes linger too long on his package though; if I do, my face won’t stop flaming until tomorrow. I divert my gaze to the chain he has looping down his jeans, connecting to his wallet in his back pocket. Next, I take in his standard grey T-shirt, slightly stretched across his built chest and topped off with a flannel button-down hanging open. What I wouldn’t give to peruse him more thoroughly with my hands and mouth…
When my gaze lifts to his face, he’s pinning me with a hungry look as if he knows exactly what I was thinking. He just might too. I mean, I haven’t checked my face for drool, but I can’t keep my eyes from telling him exactly what I want and how I want it. He narrows his eyes slightly in a look which tells me clearly that time’s up.
Uh-oh.
In an attempt to get myself under control, I lean back against the wall, the temptation to reach for him a little overwhelming at the moment. We seemed to be dancing around something, and I wonder who will stop first.
“Anything or anyone special bringing you out tonight?”
I narrow my eyes in thought. I wonder if he’s asking what I think he’s asking. There’s only one way to find out. “Not a special occasion, but out with someone special.”
He nods and takes a small step back. Hell yes, he’s asking if I’m on a date. Maybe Brandon? This I can work with. “Two someones, actually,” I amend, and his eyebrows lift in surprise. I laugh and put him out of his misery. “Allie and Caitlyn. I’m sure you remember them from the bar.”
His tumultuous expression smooths out and he responds, “Yeah, Wiley’s girl and the brunette.”
“The very same. We decided to take advantage of a shared day off and get dolled up and dance.”
“I don’t know about you dancing, is it safe? I was treated to a few moves the other night and that was pretty violent.”
A surprised laugh escapes. “Hey, now! How else was I supposed to dance to hard rock? You’re lucky I wasn’t doing my fist-pump-and-jump move.” Which of course, I proceed to demonstrate, because I’m cool like that.
He cringes. “You’re right. Someone could’ve lost an eye.”
&nbs
p; I stop my display and drop my shoulders dramatically. “Clearly, you know nothing of dancing. I’ll have you know that move is a classic. You wouldn’t have seen Kurt Cobain doing the cabbage patch. You should be ashamed.”
He takes a deliberate step closer, which puts him within arms’ reach again. My breath hitches.
He reaches out and runs his fingers through a small chunk of my hair, watching as the curl springs back when he reaches the end and then lets it go. He moves that arm to rest against the wall by my head, partially caging me in. I struggle to keep my breath even and appear calm. It would suck if I passed out from lack of oxygen before he made a real move on me.
“But you succeeded in getting dolled up. You look beautiful.” He leans his face in close and lets his warm breath touch my neck. I shiver and tilt my head to the side to give him better access. I guess our dancing is over. Yippee.
Seeing it as the invitation it is, he lets his lips connect with the skin beneath my ear. He softly teases me with light touches of his lips running up and down. He slowly, mesmerizingly works his way along my jaw. All the while, the finger of his other hand that’s gripping my waist starts stroking. It’s faint at first, but then progressively grows more certain.
Holy shit. We haven’t even kissed and I’m ready to lose my panties.
“Declan,” I basically whimper. I can’t locate my vocal chords currently, so it’ll have to do. I wait until his stare meets my own. “You haven’t been doing it wrong.”
He groans, drops his arm from the wall, and uses it to grip the back of my head firmly, directing me to finally meet his mouth. My pulse pounds in my ears as he starts nipping at my lower lip, lightly running his tongue along the seam until I can’t take it anymore and finally let him in. My fingers flex in his hair, pulling him even closer. He brings a hand up and fits it to my waist, slowly creating a path of fire down my backside and thighs as he reaches the hem of my dress. I suck on his lower lip, encouraging him to continue; we’ve been dancing around for over a year, and I can’t wait another minute.
