Page 86 of A Convenient Secret

I realize this man is probably a few steps ahead of me. And always will be. It’s a threatening concept for someone who is trying to outrun her past.

He turned on all the lights here, the faux candles flickering in the dark. He whips me around, my back to his chest. Slipping his hand through my neckline, he grazes my nipple and then cups my breast almost painfully.

With the other arm on my waist, I’m completely trapped in his embrace. He lets out a groan as he brushes his thumb over my very alert nipple.

“I need to fuck these tits.” He nips at my earlobe.

The combination of his words, his voice, and his breath sends a shiver down my spine. Who am I kidding? I’ve been trembling since he stepped behind me at the gala.

“You need to fuck, period. This situation has to be painful.” Sliding my hand behind me, I cup his erection and revel in his groan as he lowers his head on my shoulder, barely hanging onto his control.

“Anything to do with you has been painful.” He plays mindlessly with my nipple, but lets go of my waist and covers my hand over his erection. “Agonizingly unraveling. You make me weak, and I don’t even fight it anymore, little Seagull.”

I rest my head on his shoulder. “You didn’t even know I existed a few weeks back.”

He chuckles and twirls me around, locking his eyes with mine. “Have you ever checked the log at work? I’ve been paying a retainer at Summit Solutions for years, but the frequency of my calls increased at one point. Ask me when.”

His words give my heart rate a jolt, but I don’t let it bloom. “When your wife left and you needed more help?”

“Ask me when, Lily,” he growls.

“When?”

“When you first answered the fucking phone. It was your voice.”

The flickering lights, the city’s murmur, the summer heat and humidity, it all fades away. My heart, my mind, my soul zoom in on this moment, on his words.

My voice?

I grip his shirt and pull him to me, fusing my lips with his in a desperate kiss, trying to comprehend his declaration and erase it at the same time, the rolling feelings almost too overwhelming.

Declan holds me close, moaning into my mouth. Our bodies flush, I still feel like I’m not close enough, clawing at him, desperate for more. For closer. For deeper.

He slides the sleeves of my dress down while he kisses me. His hand falters as it grazes the skin under my elbow.

The uneven skin, a patchwork of raised and smooth textures, where the burn once seared deep. He pulls away, the dress pooling at my waist.

I shiver as if the temperature dipped suddenly. He looks at the ugly scar covering my forearm and part of my torso, a network of faint lines and ridges, like alandscape forever marked by fire, a quiet testament to pain endured and never forgotten.

He stills and stares at it.

In that moment, I know.

My body still tingles with desire, making my skin hot and cold at the same time.

But my heart and mind already know that the moment is over.

He sees the damage. He will see me damaged. He will focus on all the broken pieces.

In the last attempt to change the outcome of tonight, to return it to what it could be… I cup his face, forcing his gaze away from the scars.

I plead with my eyes… desperately hoping he didn’t really see it in the low light. The ugly reminder of my past.

I plead… no, I dare him to stay in the moment. To let us have this moment without the inevitable gory story. Just this one moment when my past doesn’t invade the first good thing that’s happened to me in the longest time.

Something dark passes through his eyes, his breath ragged.

His gaze on me is too much, penetrating the hidden crevices of my consciousness, reading me like he is trying to comprehend the story I don’t want to share. Not tonight. Not like this.