Page 8

Story: Destroying Declan

“You took my fucking cat, asshole,” I yell at him. “You stole her.”
“I didn’t steal her, Tesla.” He swipes a hand over his face, pushing her paw away. Shad lets out a meow and re-plants it. “You’re being ridiculous—and she isn’t your cat. She’s our cat.”
“You gave her to me.” He’s right. I am being ridiculous, but I’m committed now. There’s no turning back. He of all people should know that. “She’s mine.”
“I’m sorry.” He sighs, still trying to reason with me. He’d have better luck trying to pet a rattlesnake. “I didn’t know she was in my truck. I found her curled up under my jacket. She must’ve jumped in while you were—”
“I hate you.” I hate the way my voice sounds. Weak.
His face changes. His expression hardens, his eyes going flat and dark. “I know.” Giving Shad a final nuzzle, he lifts her off his chest and offers her to me.
I rush past him, snagging the cat from his hands as I go. I’m not three steps through the door before she lets out a yowl and twists out of my grasp to leap over my shoulder.
“Goddamn it, Shad,” Declan shouts and I turn around to see him standing in his doorway, rubbing the back of his head in frustration as the cat streaks past him and back into his apartment. “Shit.” He looks at me and shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I’ll bring her back in the—”
I don’t bother to listen to the rest, I just turn on my heel and start walking. I have to get away from him. I can’t stand here and listen to him apologize because he’s apologizing for the wrong thing. Because he’s totally oblivious to all the ways he’s fucked me up and even though that’s my fault, I still hate him for it. I still—
Something as big as Declan Gilroy should not be allowed to move so quickly and quietly.
That’s the thought that pushes itself to the front of my brain when I feel his massive hand grip around my shoulder, less than a second before he spins me around. His eyes don’t look flat anymore. They look glassy and sharp. Like they’ll cut me to pieces if I let myself fall into them again. Like they’ll hurt me if I let them.
“I’m sorry, Tess.”
“Stop saying that.” I scream it at him, reaching up to shove his hand off my shoulder. I push myself up onto the toes of my boots, cranking my neck back as far as I can before jabbing my finger against his chest. “You’re not sorry. You can’t be sorry.”
His eyes narrow into icy blue slits while he, slowly and deliberately, pushes my finger away from his chest. “And why is that?”
I jerk my hand away from his and drill my finger into his pec again. “Because in order to be sorry you’d have to actually give a shit.”
Something ripples over his features but he reins it in before it has a chance to take root. His jaw clenches, his teeth snapping together so fast and tight I hear the crack of them coming together. “I’ll drop Shad off at the garage in the morning.” He steps away from me and my finger hangs in the air between us. “You need to leave. Now—and don’t come back.”
“Why?” I advance on him, reconnecting my finger to his chest. “Are you afraid of me, Declan?”
His expression changes again. “Yes.”
Before his answer can register, he reaches for my hand again. This time instead of pushing it away, he wraps his fingers around mine and pulls me closer. “And if you could see what is going on in my brain right now, you’d be just as fucking terrified.”
I feel my toes curl inside my boots. My breath thickens inside my lungs. My wrist turns inside the lock of his fingers, flattening my hand against his chest. I can feel his heart knocking against my palm, fast and hard. “I’m not afraid of you.”
His gaze softens. Drops away from mine to fix itself on my mouth. “You should be.” Leaning into the space between us, he dips his head, bringing his mouth close to mine. “If you had the sense God gave a box of goddamned doorknobs, you would be.”
“I never claimed to be smart.” Matter of fact, when it comes to Declan Gilroy, a box of doorknobs is a fucking genius compared to me.
“You need to stop me,” he murmurs. Lifting his gaze, he locks it on mine. “Push me away. Punch me in the mouth.” He sounds desperate. Like we’re seconds away from catastrophe and he’s the only one who sees it. Like I’m the only one who can stop it. “I’m serious, Tess. You need to—”
I don’t push him away.
Fingers gripping the front of his shirt, I pull him even closer.
I don’t punch him in the mouth.
I lick him, the tip of my tongue skimming along his lower lip.
“Shit.” He groans it, a second before his tongue pushes past my lips, licking and stroking its way into my mouth. Tangling and thrusting against mine, the heat and rhythm of it sending a rush of warmth down my spine and my pussy clenches in response. I feel his hands streak along the swell of my hips, molding around the curve of my ass to lift me. I open my legs, wrapping them around his waist to pull him closer, gasping when the rock-hard length of him pushes against me.
I remember this.
How well we fit together.