Down and Out

As I walk into Declan’s apartment, exhausted and starving after a double shift at the gym, I’m greeted with the heavenly smell of simmering vegetables and mouthwatering pot roast. I could kiss myself right about now for the foresight I had this afternoon to put that roast in the slow cooker.
The living room’s dark and empty as I shut and lock the front door behind me. Actually the whole apartment’s dark, except for the light bleeding into the hallway from Declan’s open door.
Gunfire erupts from the TV in his room, followed by a string of shouted curses from Declan. Cocking my brow, I tip-toe down the hall and peek into his room, watching him play a video game from his bed.
He’s propped up on pillows and yelling something into his headset, with the cutest look of concentration on his face as he glares at his flat screen. It’s some kind of military/warzone game, and based on his reaction, his team’s not doing so hot.
I smirk and lean against the doorframe, right as Declan seems to notice me standing there. He presses a button on the controller, backing out of the game as he yanks off his headset. “Hey,” he says, a little breathless and—
Is he blushing?
A thrill shoots through me at the notion that I can make him blush and my lips twitch with the urge to laugh, but I tamp it down and nod to the TV. “Call of Duty?”
He glances down to the controller and headset. “Battlefield,” he says a little sheepishly as he places the equipment on the nightstand.
“Ah.” I cross the room and climb into his bed, leaning against the headboard like he is. “So is this all you’ve done today? Lounge around in bed and play Xbox?”
“No,” he says, feigning offense. “I took a nap this afternoon. And a shower.”
I knew about the nap—he was asleep when I came up to put the roast on—and I could’ve guessed as much about the shower. He smells just, unh, and he’s got actual clothes on compared to the boxer briefs I left him in this morning and found him in this afternoon.
Leaning my head back, I glance at him. His grin is infectious and I can’t help but return it. “I take it you’ve had a fun day, then.”
His smile softens as he plays with the ends of my hair. Why does that little touch seem so intimate? And why don’t I seem to mind it? “It’d have been better if you were here,” he murmurs.
His words never fail to disarm me, and sure enough here I am, sitting next to him while my system crashes and tries to reboot.
Make a joke. Play it off.
I let out a shaky breath and try to turn it into a laugh. “You know you’ve already gotten inside my pants, right? You don’t have to lay it on so thick anymore.”
Declan laughs, deep and throaty, as he clutches his stomach. I bite my lip and watch him, mesmerized by the sight and sound. How can someone who looks so hard and lethal be so playful and fun?
“I think I do have to lay it on this thick—at least if I want inside your pants a second time, and believe me, I do.”
My tongue darts out to lick my lips as I roll my eyes and smile. “What happened to just once?”
He shrugs. “Once with you just isn’t enough. I want more.”
“What makes you think I’ll give you more?”
“You will. You’ll make me work for it, sure, but you know what? I’m okay with that.” The corner of his mouth kicks up into a crooked smile. “I think I’m even looking forward to it.” Declan’s eyes skim my mouth. His smile fades, replaced with a look so heated, I feel myself start to melt under his stare. Cradling the side of my face, his thumb traces the curve of my lower lip. “I want to earn every touch you allow me, and I want to be the cause of every stuttered breath that leaves these lips. . .”
Right on cue, my mouth parts while my breathing hitches. I simply can’t function when he says things like this. Basic, involuntary things—like breathing and blinking—are just too much for me to handle when he throws this much charm my way.
Declan’s smile widens at my reaction, his dimples deepening as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “I love that sound. It’s my second favorite sound in the whole world.”
My eyes are locked on his as he leans in slowly, and despite my scrambled thoughts and the breath that’s caught in my throat, I somehow manage to ask, “What’s your first?”
His hand wraps around my waist, pulling me flush against him, and I instinctively press my hand to his chest. The cotton of his shirt is soft beneath my fingers, but he feels warm and hard under that. A steady beat thumps against my palm—so unlike my erratic, flighty heartbeat. How is he so in control when I feel like a bomb about to go off?
“You want to know my favorite sound in the whole world?” His lips brush my jaw in agonizingly slow kisses. “It’s the way you say my name when you come, all breathy and needy. Hottest f*cking thing I’ve ever heard.”
My eyes squeeze shut, his declaration making my walls clench tight with lust right as his teeth nip my neck. Damn it, he baited me with that question and I walked right into it. If I were in the right state of mind, I’d be a little embarrassed, both by his answer and my body’s wanton response. A few words from this man and I turn into a damn slip-n-slide below the belt.
Fighting for control of my brain cells, I push him back, my chest rising and falling too rapidly for the desired aloofness I’ve spent years perfecting. “That only happened once,” I say, trying to control my breathing. “Last time I checked, I don’t say your name every time I come.”
Just the last few, but who’s keeping count?
Declan takes my chin in his callused hand, making sure my eyes are on his. “I have every intention of changing that, Kitten, make no mistake.” There’s no smile on his face or hint of playfulness in his voice, just flat-out determination as he stares me down before pressing a soft, almost reverent kiss to my forehead.
Before I do something stupid, like melt into him and wrap my arms around him, I climb off the bed, nearly tripping in my haste to put distance between us. “I, uh . . . have to go to the bathroom.”
I’m across the hall and locked in the bathroom before Declan can reply. Sitting on the ledge of the bathtub, I cradle my head in my hands as I stare at the tiled floor.
I still feel him pressed against me, warm and hard, yet soft. My eyes close as I remember his breath on my skin. Even now, it gives me chills.
My heart flutters in my chest like a moth in a jar, trapped and confused. Why am I so drawn to him? What is this?
I know I should back off. This thing with Declan, whatever it is, won’t end well. I know that, and yet part of me just wants to sit back and enjoy the ride down until its inevitable, fiery crash landing. Because that ride—oh, God, that ride will be so sweet and almost worth the pain.
Almost.
My fingers run through my hair, close to the scalp, as I groan and tug on the roots. I stand and start ripping my clothes off as I turn on the shower, not bothering to wait until the water’s warm to get in. I need to get rid of this feeling before it seeps in and becomes permanent.
Declan’s not permanent. No one is. I can’t let myself forget that.
I gasp at the ice cold water splashing over me and start scrubbing his memory away. Twenty minutes later, I turn off the water and pull the curtain aside, reaching for the empty towel rack.
Shit. I forgot I washed all the towels last night while Blake was tending to Declan. I’d needed something to do besides making myself sick with worry, and I’d totally spaced on taking the towels out of the dryer.
I wring out my wet hair and try to shake some of the excess water off before carefully stepping out of the tub and making my way over to the door. Of course, I still drip water everywhere.
Cracking the bathroom door open, I feel cool air from the hall slip in and prick my skin. I shiver and angle myself behind the door. “Declan?”
A second later, I hear his feet shuffling on the hardwood floor, then his voice on the other side of the door. “Yeah?”
“Can you get me a towel? They’re in the dryer.”
I can hear the grin in his voice as he says, “So you’re naked right now?”
“Just get me a towel!” I squeal, though I’m smiling too. “I’m frickin’ freezing.”
Declan laughs. “You need some clothes, too?”
He probably thinks I’m an idiot. Running away from him to get in the shower without remembering something as simple as a towel and a change of clothes. I wince, glad that he can’t see me, and mumble, “Maybe.”
“Maybe? Well shit, Kitten, if clothes are optional—”
“Yes, I need clothes! God.” I hang my head, hearing him laugh as he walks away. How is it possible to blush and shiver at the same time?
Declan returns a couple minutes later and passes a white towel through the crack in the door. “Oh, thank you,” I say, gratefully grabbing the fluffy towel from him and wrapping it around my trembling body.
He holds out a folded up top and some bottoms and I take those from him too. I don’t see any underwear and I’m actually kinda glad, because the thought of him rifling through my panties is too much to—
His tattooed wrist appears back in the doorway, and dangling off his pointer finger is the black lace thong I’d teased him about holding my first night here. My teeth scrape my lip as I grin and take them from him. “What is it with you and these panties?”
“What can I say, they’ve made an impression.”
“And what about a bra?” I ask, holding my hand through the crack expectantly. Hell, him picking out a bra is nothing compared to him picking out a thong, so he might as well just hand it over.
“You don’t need a bra,” Declan says, taking my hand in his and kissing my palm.
Is he kidding? “You seriously didn’t get me one?” I peek out the crack in the door and see him walking back into his room, shaking with the force of his laughter.
That ass.
Closing the bathroom door, I unfold the clothes and take a good look at what he’s brought me, fuming all over again. It’s nothing more than a tiny, spaghetti-strapped tank top and some small boy shorts I use for sleep. “C’mon, man,” I groan/yell.
“What?” he calls out from his room. “You asked for clothes and I brought you clothes.”
“Barely,” I mutter, though it’s too quiet for him to hear.
After I dry myself off, I wrap my wet hair up in the towel and grab the dirty clothes off the floor. I’m about to shove my legs back into my shorts, just to have something on while I run out there and grab some real clothes, when I get a better idea. I eye the tank top and barely-there shorts lying on the counter as a wicked grin curls my lips.
I’m going to beat Declan at his own game.