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Declan

I never wanted to see her cry again.

I knew they were happy tears, tears that meant she liked the gift, but I hated them.

Abi Mariano should always be smiling, twenty-four-seven.

And what the hell had I just said to her? Had she manifested that I would become a sentimental poet with her stories? Is that what was happening?

Because I’d just laid down some mean-it-to-my-toes, very sentimental words.

“You cannot say things like that,” she said, looking up at me with an amused little grin that made not smiling back impossible, “and not expect to be attacked.”

“Attacked good or attacked bad?” I asked, even though I recognized the look in her eyes. My fingers were clenched in preparation of the Harvard sweatshirt tear-off.

“I suppose that’s your call,” she said, walking me backward until my back hit the sliding door. I loved the way she was handsy with me, those palms flat against my pecs as she went up on her tiptoes and raised her mouth.

I was hooked, lowering my head and dipping into those honey lips. It was inexplicable, how into her I was already, because it felt like I vibrated around her. My nerves crackled in her presence. As she lifted her face, I was on her like we shared a connection, like an I-move-you-move type of thing.

“Why are you wearing those ridiculous jeans?” I growled, running my hands up the back of her legs, wishing she wasn’t wearing anything so I could feel her skin on my fingertips.

“Why are you ?” she replied, her hands sliding down my stomach in a way that made every muscle in my torso tense.

“We’re fools,” I said, licking the corner of her lip before grazing it with my teeth. “Because we could’ve had balcony sex if we’d dressed right.”

“Balcony sex is off the table now?” she asked breathily, her hands still moving.

“We have to go in to get these off,” I said while I slid my hands underneath her sweatshirt. “And once they’re off, we’re in.”

“I feel like that doesn’t make sense but you’re right,” she whispered before a moan overtook her as my fingers flicked open a clasp and she was in my hands.

“Dear God ,” I whispered, feeling almost overwhelmed by how good it felt to be with her, to have her hands wreaking havoc on my sanity while my hands returned the favor.

We fell all over each other, stumbling back into the room in a race to wear less, to feel more. Her mouth kept me on a tight leash, her kisses so hypnotically good that I refused to stop kissing her as we tumbled onto the bed.

“I like the way that bracelet looks,” I said as I trailed kisses down her body, “when you aren’t wearing anything.”

“I like the way you look when you aren’t wearing anything,” she teased, but her giggle turned into a different noise when I found a spot where she really appreciated the touch of my tongue.

Things turned frenzied then, the kind of frenzied that was like an extended-cut, stretched-out, high-impact version of sex, strung up on the tautest of intensities. I gave her everything I had, loving her without holding anything back, and her responses made me wild with the way she matched mine.

She fell asleep in my arms afterward, wearing my sweatshirt and nothing else, but I spent the next few hours wide-awake in the dark. Not because I couldn’t sleep, but because I didn’t want to.

Abi was snuggled against me, her breathing soft and her legs tangled between mine, and I just couldn’t bring myself to close my eyes and miss out on soaking her in.

It was perfection that I couldn’t bear to walk away from.

···

We met my family down in the restaurant for breakfast before heading home, and I might as well not have been there. Everyone loved Abi so much that they were acting like she was part of the family, exclusively talking to her and taking up her attention.

Which kind of put thoughts in my head.

Thoughts that were way too premature, but everything about her just fit somehow.

And that wasn’t the great sex talking.

No, the great sex was just the world’s biggest bonus.

She was up at the buffet, grabbing a glass of juice, when Roman came over to me and said, “That girl is so good.”

I glanced over and remembered that he knew about our fake plan. I wasn’t in the mood to discuss my feelings, so I generically agreed, “Yeah, she is.”

“Seriously, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you guys were madly in love. Bravo—very impressive acting on both your parts.”

“Can we not talk about this now?” I said, my voice low because I didn’t want anyone to overhear. “We can discuss it later.”

“Yeah, sure,” Roman said. “I’ve got some stuff I want to bounce off you, anyway.”

“Work?” I asked, wanting to shut him up about that, too. We did need to go over some things, but not around my family.

“Are you two talking work?” Abi asked as she walked up beside us.

“We are,” Roman said, giving her a smile that told me he genuinely liked her. “Your man is relentless. I’ve never met anyone so hell-bent on making sure their company’s making as much money as it possibly can.”

A wrinkle formed between her eyebrows and I wanted to smack him.

“Are you still eating, or are you ready to go?” I asked.

“I couldn’t eat another bite,” she said. “And I’m sick of your dad trash-talking the Cubs, so let’s take off.”

My dad was a huge Cardinals fan, which made them sports enemies.

Of course, the fact that she loved baseball made him her biggest fan.

The drive home was just as fun as the drive there had been, and when we got to my apartment, something new happened.

I slept in my bed, with her, and it felt like all was right in the world.

And when she woke me up in the morning with her tongue on my neck, telling me I had to go to the airport in an hour, I suspected I would never want to return to this room if she wasn’t in it.