Down and Out

I watch Declan, deep in thought and food forgotten, as I finish off my plate.
“Are you having second thoughts?” Part of me hopes that he is, so my good-girl streak can remain somewhat intact. And another, dirtier part of me hopes I’ll get a taste of Declan Whitmore, because he looks as if he tastes like sweaty skin, clinging body parts, and breathless prayers to God.
He shakes his head. “There’s no turning back now, Kitten. We’ve come too far.”
He’s right, unfortunately. Lines have been crossed, and there’s no going back to before.
Closing his lid, he gets up and walks his Styrofoam box to the fridge while I get up to throw mine away. I’d been starving and ended up eating everything on my plate, much to Declan’s satisfied smile as he watches me make a show of throwing away my empty container.
I lean my hip against the counter as he strides over to me, pinning me in place with the heated but playful look on his face. He boxes me in with his arms again, resting his hands on the countertop next to me as he leans down.
“Are you sure you can do this without getting your feelings involved? ’Cause I’ll be honest, I’m not sure I can.”
Blinking, I look down to his lips. His gaze is too intense, as usual, and has me feeling things I wish I didn’t. Things I don’t even understand. But instead of admitting any of this to him, I shove it down and bottle it up, where it can’t hurt me. “I’ve kept my feelings uninvolved my whole life, Declan. I don’t think I’m about to start now.” My voice is quiet, but steady, and I repeat the mantra over and over in my head.
His fingers lift my chin, gently forcing my head to tilt back. “Maybe it’s time you did.” The pad of his thumb grazes my bottom lip before he sighs and drops his hand. “This is pretty heavy stuff for a first date, isn’t it?”
Clearing my throat, I glance away. “I guess?” I really don’t know, but it feels heavy. And personal, and intense. It’s pretty much like everything else Declan Whitmore does or says to me.
“Come on,” he says, pushing himself away from the counter.
Declan grabs my hand and leads me down the hall, toward his room. I have half a second to wonder what he’s doing before he picks me up and immediately hisses in a breath through clenched teeth. “Ow, f*ck.” Tossing me on the bed, he winces and clutches his side. “You’re heavier than you look.”
I shoot him a glare as he climbs in next to me. “I am not.” I smack him on the arm as he starts up Netflix. “And you shouldn’t be picking me up anyway. You’re hurt,” I mutter, smacking him again for being so reckless.
He laughs and tries to dodge my blows. “You’re right, I should avoid heavy lifting.”
My jaw slackens, making him laugh harder, the bastard. Giving him a murderous look, I tell him, “I’m gonna let that one slide, because you’re technically right. You should avoid heavy lifting, as well as any kind of physical exertion. So you know what that means, right?”
“You’ll have to be on top if we have sex?”
I grin, despite myself. “No, you smartass. It means no sex. At all.” Now if I could just stick to that decision. . .
Declan’s jovial mood vanishes in the blink of an eye. “Now you’re just being mean.”
Rolling my eyes, I prop a pillow behind my head. “What are we watching?”
“Obligatory romantic comedy? That’s normal date behavior, right?”
“What makes this a date? This seems just like we’re hanging out.”
He sinks down onto the bed, lying next to me. “Yeah, but this time we’re hanging out with my intentions made clear.”
I glance away from the opening credits and look over at him. “Your intentions were pretty clear before.”
Frowning as if in thought, he says, “All right, but I bought dinner. That makes this a date.” He scoots over till his arm’s brushing mine. “Plus, we’re cuddling.”
Laughter breaks out of me before I can stop it. “I’m pretty sure this doesn’t count as cuddling.”
“I know.” His pinky hooks mine. “But it’s as close as you’ll let me get to the real thing.”
I hate that he’s right. The whole concept of cuddling strikes me as awkward and weird, and needless to say, I’ve never done it before. But how does he know? How can he read me so well? And why does his touch only make me want a thousand more?
He turns on his side so he can face me better, and I do the same. Reaching between us, he twirls my hair around his finger, and I can’t help but smile. “What is it with you and my hair?”
He shrugs with his free shoulder. “It’s soft. And it smells incredible. All I could smell on my pillow today was this,” he says, bringing my hair up to his nose as he inhales.
I freeze in horror. “I forgot to wash your sheets.” How could I forget something like that? And after all that I did on them every single night. . .
The wet spots might have been an exaggeration, but the rest wasn’t. His bed saw a lot of Savannah-on-Savannah lovin’. I even got off on the fact that it was his bed and his sheets.
My hands cup my face, covering them in shame. I could die right now.
He takes my hand in his, pulling it away from my face, and kisses my knuckles. “I’m glad you didn’t,” he says between the feather-light touches of his lips to my skin. “I like smelling you all over my bed.”
Who is this beautiful boy, and what has he done to me? I’m lost in the green flecks of his eyes as I murmur, “What are we doing? What is this?”
He presses another kiss to the back of my hand. “It’s whatever you want it to be.”
A crease wrinkles my forehead as I stare at him. “I don’t know what that means.”
“It means I’m here, for as long as you want me.”
My breath leaves me in an exasperated huff. What the hell kind of line is that? And what does he take me for? I know how this works, and I know how this will end. “You mean you’re here until you get tired of me.”
His brows pull tight so fast I’m surprised he doesn’t reopen the cut on his eyebrow, but I sit up and continue before he can say anything.
“I’m not stupid, Declan. We’ll have fun for a bit, but then the novelty will wear off and we’ll be stuck working and living together.” Guys leave—it’s just what they do. Why would a gorgeous guy like Declan, who can have any girl he wants, be any different from the status quo?
His mouth opens then shuts as he stares at me, looking dumbstruck and completely offended all at the same time. “You don’t know that,” he says, sitting up.
“And you do?”
Now he just looks pissed. “No, I don’t, but I’m willing to find out. That’s the whole point, Savannah. I’m open to the possibility of us.” He sighs and bends his knees, resting his elbows on them. “Please don’t write me off without giving me a chance. The world’s not gonna end if you let me in.”
I know he’s watching me, but I just can’t meet his eyes. Instead I look down at the blanket, watching my fingers draw lines in the dense, gray microfiber. “My world will end,” I mumble.
“It won’t end, it’ll just change. And I think it already has. You’re just too close to see it.”
His hand covers mine, making me look up at him. “You can’t honestly tell me you could walk away from me tomorrow and not be the tiniest bit affected by the time we spent together. I know it’s changed me, and I’m willing to bet it’s changed you. You’d miss me, Savannah, and it’s okay to admit that.” A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “You’re allowed to have feelings, you know. No one’s going to judge you for being human.”
People have come and gone my whole life. They’re interchangeable to me.
But Declan. . . Declan, I would miss. He’s right. But I’m not ready to admit anything I’m feeling because I don’t know what I’m feeling. I’ve never felt any of this before.
How can I articulate something so foreign if I don’t know the language?
Instead of asking for help, or asking him to be my translator, I give him a small smile and say, “You’d miss me, too.” What can I say, I’m stubborn.
He nods slowly. “I would. But I’d never let you leave in the first place.” His ghost of a smile grows, and I’m mesmerized by the way it lights up his face.
Have I mentioned how much I love his dimples?
“Is that right?” I ask.
He nods again, trying to seem solemn. “I’m afraid so. You’re stuck with me now, Kitten. I’m like a plastic sack that’s wrapped around your tail. No matter how fast you run, I’ll always be right behind you.”
The visual of what he’s just said has me practically cackling. I fall back onto the bed, laughing so hard I can’t breathe, so hard I have tears running down the sides of my face. I’m torn between clutching my stomach and wiping my eyes.
When I finally calm, I see Declan lying next to me, propped up on his elbow. He’s smiling down at me.
“I don’t doubt that,” I say, wiping the moisture from my face. “You’re very . . . persistent.”
“Just with what I want.” He wipes away an errant tear that I’d missed, but his hand lingers on my skin. “Your laugh is third.”
“Third what?”
“My third favorite sound.”
Of course he has to go and say that. Right when I’ve managed to get air back into my lungs, he has to go and deflate them. “Are you sure you’ve never wooed a girl before? You’re very good at it.”
“I’m not trying to woo you. I’m trying to ruin you for all others.”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. What can I say to that? Please, don’t? Because I’m not entirely sure I don’t want him to.
He leans down and kisses my forehead. “It’s only fair, you know, since you’ve ruined me.”
He’s so close to me I can feel the heat off his body. I swallow and risk a glance up at him, knowing fully well I might melt under his stare. “I have?”
“Yep. Only mean, loud, disagreeable girls will do it for me now.”
Declan laughs as I smack his chest. Somehow I’m laughing too, despite my best efforts at a glare.
“I’m kidding,” he says. “Only you do it for me now, so you better come around to this whole ‘us’ thing or I’m screwed.”
Turning onto my side to face him, I say, “I’ll try, okay? But I can’t promise anything.”
He nods, and for several seconds, the only sound in the room is the movie. I’m not watching it, though. My eyes are glued to him, roaming over anything and everything I see.
I’ve never allowed myself to look at him this long or openly. It’s like my eyes are greedy for him, like they’re making up for lost time.
My fingers skim his arm, pausing on a rose. I still can’t get over the detail and shading of his tattoos. These must have taken hours to do.
“My mom’s name was Rose.” Declan’s voice breaks my concentration. “They’re for her.”
I can’t even imagine what it’s like to have a real parent, let alone one you loved. . . How different would my life have turned out if I had decent parents? Where would I be? Who would I be?
There’s no way to know. But I can unequivocally say I wouldn’t be lying here with Declan right now, and for once, I think I’m glad life has led me here, to this exact moment.
I trace the rose and glance up at him. “What was she like?”
His breath leaves him on a long exhale. He rolls onto his back, but not before I see his brows bunch. “Loyal to a fault. She was the warmest, kindest person I’ve ever met. Loved my dad more than he deserved.
“She stuck by him through everything—every DUI, every ruined holiday, every time he gambled away their mortgage payment. I’d get so mad at her for staying with him every time he f*cked up. I mean, I was just a little kid, but I knew she deserved better than him. I knew she could leave him if she wanted. But she wouldn’t.
“She’d just tell me when you marry somebody, you take the bad with the good. Said he wasn’t always like that, that he was sick and he needed our help to get back to good.” His jaw tenses. “And then one day he just left. After everything she did for him, everything he put her through, he just walked away from her like it was nothing.”
I study his face as he looks at the ceiling, but he’s not really seeing it. He’s too busy reliving something awful from his past.
“Have you seen him since then?” The words are quiet as they leave me. I don’t want to encroach on whatever’s going on inside his head, but I’m curious. Plus, I think we’ve established by now that questions are fair game.
If he can ask me if I got off the last time I had sex, I think I can ask him if he’s seen his father.
Declan shakes his head. “Blake has, but I refuse to. As far as I’m concerned, he died the second he walked out that door.”
His jaw’s grown tighter the longer he’s talked and I’m regretting ever bringing up his mom to begin with. I hadn’t meant to put a damper on the conversation.
Since we’re in a sharing kind of mood, I do something I’ve never done before: talk about my father. There’s really nothing to tell, but maybe it’ll get his mind off his parents to talk about someone else’s.
I roll onto my stomach and say, “I’ve never met my dad. Don’t even know his name.”
He looks over at me and pets my hair. “Do you remember your mom at all?”
“I have little snippets of memories, but not many. I can’t even remember what she looked like, really, just that her eyes were supposed to be blue.”
“Supposed to be?”
Shit.
My mouth snaps shut at my slip-up. ‘Her eyes were blue.’ Were blue. How friggin’ hard is it to say that?
I push away the last memory I have of her, fuzzy from my four-year-old mind, but haunting nonetheless. I didn’t tell Declan this, but I’m the one who found her after she overdosed on our couch. Her open eyes had turned gray and filmy, and she wouldn’t wake up, no matter how much I tugged on her and yelled.
I finally went upstairs, to Mrs. Donaghy’s apartment, and asked her make me some cereal. It wasn’t the first time I’d turned to her when my mother was . . . indisposed, but it was the last.
I look away from Declan’s inquiring eyes, to his arm wrapped around my head. “Yeah, I think. I don’t really remember.” My fingers run up his forearm, then over the hard bulge of his bicep. “I love your tattoos,” I say, peeking underneath the sleeve of his t-shirt to get a better look.
He sits up and begins tugging his shirt over his head. I’m momentarily relieved that my distraction tactic worked, until his shirt lifts enough to reveal dark, discolored patches dotting his side. A few litter his chest. One big, oblong bruise covers his stomach.
My breath tangles in my throat as my heart literally stops.
They look so much worse than the other night. What was once red, angry splotches have now turned into inky, black pools.
There are so many of them.
Declan sinks back onto the pillows leaning against the headboard. I can tell he’s trying not to wince.
A burning sensation settles into my eyes and I belatedly realize I’m trying not to cry. I swallow down the jumbled mess of emotions tearing through me and sit up. Maybe that will help me breathe, because for some reason, I can’t.
“I could kill whoever did this to you,” I say, running the lightest touch over a bruise on his side. His abs tense and I look up at his face, seeing his eyes clamped shut.
I jerk my hand back and grimace. I hadn’t meant to hurt him. “Sorry.”
His eyes shoot open as he stills my hand. “Please, don’t stop. I love it when you touch me.”
That was a look of pleasure on his face?
He places my palm on his chest, right over his heart. I feel its steady thumping right under my fingers, under hard muscle and warm skin. I gnaw on my lip as my own heart skips a beat, then starts back up at a slightly faster clip. I think the damn thing’s trying to synchronize itself with Declan.
“You sure I’m not hurting you?”
“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.” It’s obvious there’s a double meaning to his statement when he’s looking at me like that—like he just freaking won the lottery. It makes me wonder if he has an undiagnosed concussion or something. . .
After a beat, he removes his hand from mine and folds his arm behind his head, letting me know he’s mine to do with as I please. And right now, what I please is to see that look on his face again. The one that’s strung so tight in pleasure it almost looks painful.
My fingers carefully trail down the expanse of his torso. Every hard ridge I pass has my stomach somersaulting. It’s a beautiful sight to see him stretched out before me, bruises or not.
He’s perfect.
Scooting down the bed, I rest my hands on the mattress and lean down, placing soft kisses on the bruises lining his side. The ends of my hair brush against him as I go, but I don’t move it out of the way. Knowing how he feels about my hair, he probably loves this.
A quick glance up at him confirms it. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and his free hand fists the sheet on the other side of him.
I smile against him and press my lips to his skin, noticing the way his abs tighten with every kiss. Not wanting to neglect them, I kiss my way down his stomach, and that’s when I see it.
The look.
It’s even better than the first time I saw it. I watch his face while I kiss the dips and curves of his muscles, then boldly flick my tongue out in an open-mouthed kiss.
Declan’s reaction doesn’t disappoint. His lips part as his breath catches, and I know I’m in real trouble now.
Because that just officially became my favorite sound in the whole world, and now I’m anxious to see what kinds of variations I can make him come up with.
Sitting up, I wait until his eyes open in a daze to say, “So did you ever finish, um, jackin’ your beanstalk that night?”
“No.” He puffs out a breath and scrubs his hands over his face, not even bothering to hide that he’s rock hard. “Call me crazy, but the mood was kind of ruined.”
My fingers skim the waistband of his pajama pants, then barely dip inside. “I could give you a hand, if you want.”
“Seriously?”
The look on his face right now would be funny if I wasn’t so turned on. “It’s only fair after you . . . you know, helped me out the other night.” I dip my fingers lower, grazing hair before he grabs my wrist and pulls me back.
Why does he look so pissed? I thought he’d want this.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Declan says as he sits up. “That’s not how this is gonna work. I don’t want you to do this because you feel like you owe me one. I want you to do this because you want to.”
I do want to. I want nothing more in the world right this second, but I’m not ready to admit just how bad I want it. So instead I yank my hand out of his grasp and say, “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t.”
His mouth breaks into a smile. “So you want to?”
God. I roll my eyes at his increasingly cocky grin. “Yes.”
“Hmm. . .” He squints, like he’s really trying to figure out if he believes me. “I’m afraid I’m gonna need more convincing. Say, ‘Declan, I want to touch your cock.’”
Yeah, he’s perfect all right. A perfect ass.
My chin juts out as I stare at him. “I’m not saying that.”
He chuckles and leans down, kissing the spot on my shoulder where my shirt’s slipped down. “C’mon. I just need to make sure your heart’s in it. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
Bullshit. He just wants to hear me say it. I roll my eyes again and sigh. It’s too bad my desire to touch him and find out what he looks like when he comes apart from my doing far outweighs my reluctance to say those seven little words. So I mumble, “Declan, I want to touch your cock.”
He jerks back and holds up his hands, looking at me like I’m insane. “Slow down there, Kitten, this is our first date. I’m not gonna let you touch my cock on our first date. I’m not that kind of guy.”
If you look up “aghast” in the dictionary, I’m sure it’d have a picture of my face right now. “After all that and you tell me no?” I shriek. “Are you shitting me right now?”
“Maybe if you’re good I’ll let you touch it tomorrow.” Declan laughs and tries to fend off my hits as I swing at him.
“I hate you!”
He grabs my wrists and before I know it, I’m on my back and he’s on top of me, pinning my hands above my head. His smile’s dimmed, but a trace of it still remains.
“No, you don’t,” he says.
No, I don’t. But that was really mean what he just did, and I’m allowed to be pissed, damn it.
Declan slowly releases my hands and rests his weight on his elbows. His fingers brush my hair as he stares down at me and says, “As much as I would love to feel your hands on me, I can’t let that happen, not tonight. We both know it won’t stop there, and I meant what I said. This is our first date. It’s special. We only get one and I care about you too much to take that away from you. From us. So as much as it kills me to say it, everything else will have to wait.”
Jesus Christ, the words that come out of this boy. . . Damn. I find myself smiling up at him and asking, “Till our next date?”
“Oh, yeah,” he says, making a “well, duh” face. “All bets are off on our next date.” I’m laughing underneath him as he grimaces and warns, “I’m gonna wreck you.”
This only makes me laugh harder until he leans down and silences me with a kiss. After the initial shock, right when I wrap my arms around his neck and I’m about to invite him into my mouth, he pulls back.
I lie there for a few seconds with my eyes closed, trying to tell my body to calm the hell down. There wasn’t even any tongue involved. No need to get all hot and bothered.
Licking my lips, I look up at him. “I thought you said that had to wait,” I say breathlessly.
He shrugs. “Kissing’s allowed on a first date.”
When my hungry eyes dip to his mouth, he rolls off me and onto his back, sighing. “Just the one,” he says. “My self-control’s not that good.”