Page 14

DECLAN

“ Y ou better not be running on me,” I tell her as I pull my phone from my pocket.

“And miss dessert? It’s the best course.”

My cock twitches. I shift in my seat, adjusting the tension pressing against my zipper. “Damn right it is. Be quick.”

I wink, and satisfaction curls in my gut as that pretty flush climbs her chest. She tries to act unaffected. But she’s not.

But neither am I. I’m here with an aching dick.

She’s not used to kindness, not used to being looked at like this. And it shows.

There’s something else, too. Something just out of reach. A shadow behind those sapphire eyes. I shouldn’t be this comfortable around her. I sure as hell shouldn’t be offering up pieces of myself like confessions. Yet here I am.

While she’s gone, I wave down the server and order the strawberries and more champagne. My eyes catch the napkin she’s been doodling on all night. I pick it up and study the design, the delicate lines and sharp curves.

It’s her. All wrapped up in ink and intention. A heart pierced by a blade, but the handle is laced in soft, floral detail. Feminine. Deadly. Mine.

I fold the napkin and tuck it into my wallet. By the time I do, I hear her heels.

She slides back into the booth, eyes dropping to the table with a frown. “I wasn’t finished drawing,” she huffs.

Christ, she smells like sugar and sin. I want to drown in it. “I love it exactly how it is.”

She smiles, and my goddamn chest tightens, but then she slaps me in the arm. “That was sickly sweet,” she teases.

I lean in, not touching, but close enough to feel her breath. She’s looking at me, not like she wants to run. Like she’s bracing for impact.

And I want to crash into her.

Those full lips, parted slightly. Her pupils blown wide. I lean forward another touch, just as the server sets down the tray of strawberries.

I force myself to sit back, take one, and hold it up. “Open up.”

She hesitates. I see the fight flicker in her eyes. So I pin her there with mine.

She opens her mouth. I slip the berry past her lips. “Good girl.”

She stops chewing and I try to fight my grin.

I say nothing. Just take another berry and lick the juice from my fingers. “Damn, this is delicious.”

“Very.”

After we finish, I toss the cash on the table, stand, and offer her my hand. Her palm slides into mine, and it shouldn’t do a damn thing to me—but it does.

As we walk toward the elevator, she suddenly stops and turns to face me.

“Thank you,” she breathes, eyes scanning the room like she is looking for someone.

My spine goes rigid. Someone’s watching her. Or she’s watching for them.

I step closer and curl my fingers under her jaw, guiding her gaze back to me.

“No. Thank you,” I whisper.

This was the best evening I’ve had in a long, long time.

I tilt my head and lower my voice, brushing my lips close to her cheek.

“Can I kiss you?”

And fuck, I already know if she says yes, I’m never letting her go.