Down and Out

It gets too hot in my car to sleep much later than dawn, so I’ve been waking up at ass o’clock in the morning for the past week. And now that I’m in a giant, comfy bed, I’m still waking up when the sun’s just barely starting to peek out, much to my chagrin.
Yawning, I stretch and grumble my way out of bed. If I didn’t have to pee so bad, I’d force myself to go back to sleep, because last night was the best sleep I’d gotten in days. Declan’s bed is so comfy, and it felt amazing to spread out.
I still slept with the door locked and the can of mace under my pillow, though. Old habits die hard, and all.
The apartment’s quiet as I crack open the door and walk across the hall to the bathroom. I flip on the light and shut the door behind me, doing the holy-shit-I-have-to-pee dance as I lower the toilet seat. Sweet relief comes over me while I stare at the cream tile lining the walls and floor.
It’s nice being able to pee in the same place where you sleep. I’d almost forgotten what that’s like.
As the toilet flushes, I turn on the faucet and wash my hands, staring at my reflection in the mirror. The bridge of my nose is a little discolored, but it’s nothing that makeup won’t cover.
Turning off the water, I really look around the bathroom for the first time. The shower curtain’s clear, but has circles of black, red, and gray in various sizes. The countertop has the same granite from the kitchen, and is littered with various male toiletries—Axe body spray, an electric razor, some hair stuff, and a small silver hoop. Frowning, I wipe my wet hands on my shorts since there’s no towel on the rack, and then pick up the piece of jewelry to inspect it.
It looks like an earring. Declan has his ears pierced—I saw the small gauges yesterday and the day before—but why is there only one earring here? My brows pull tighter as I put it back and look around for the other one.
I eventually give up when I can’t find it and move on to the body spray, picking it up to take a whiff. Oh, man, it smells good. Like sex appeal in a bottle. All dark spice and undeniable masculinity.
Putting it back in its spot, I turn off the light and tip-toe down the hall, stopping when Declan comes into sight. He’s stretched out on the couch, on his back, with a sheet twisted between his legs. Mumbling, he lifts his arm and drapes it over his eyes, his legs shifting and tugging the sheet down until his pair of black Calvin Klein boxer briefs are exposed, along with the outline of some very impressive morning wood.
I’d been too shocked last night when I walked in on him masturbating to really appreciate its size, but damn. He stirs and I haul ass as quietly as I can into the kitchen, so I won’t be caught ogling him in his sleep like some kind of perv.
I open the fridge’s stainless steel doors and busy myself with finding something to cook for breakfast. It’s all I can do to pretend like I haven’t seen what I just did, that I’m not picturing what it looks like under that thin swath of black cotton, and that I can’t still see him out of the corner of my eye.
I ignore the rustle of him sitting up on the couch, and the following curse he mumbles as he grabs the sheet and places it over his lap. Instead, I bite my lip and briefly close my eyes, letting the warmth on my cheeks meet the cool air pouring out of the fridge that cost more than my car.
When I feel steady, I call out, “Morning,” and grab the eggs, tomatoes, lunch meat, and cheese—basically the entire contents of the fridge.
“Why do you have such a big, expensive refrigerator if you’re not going to keep any food in it?” I close the wide double doors on top and peek into the pull-out freezer on the bottom. Except for the lone Salisbury steak TV dinner, there’s nothing but frost and a bottle of Jack Daniels. I roll my eyes at the typical single guy fare and set my items on the counter, next to the stovetop that looks like it’s never been used. “Seems like you could find something cheaper to decorate your kitchen with. Like maybe some fake grapes and empty bottles of wine, or something.”
As I search for a pan, he mumbles, “Yeah, I’ve, uh, been meaning to go to the store.”
I pull a pan out from the cabinet next to the oven and set it on the stove, turning the heat on to low. “Mixing bowl?” I ask over my shoulder, seeing him point to the cabinet in front of me. “Gracias,” I say, grabbing it and setting about cracking the eggs.
“What are you making?”
“Omelettes. Hey, do you have any butter? I can’t remember if I saw any.” I open a couple drawers until I find a fork, then start whisking my concoction.
“Yeah, I think so. It may be behind the milk.”
“Can you grab it for me?” I’m busy opening random cabinets, looking for salt and pepper.
“I, uh. . .”
When he stammers incoherently and doesn’t get up, I turn away from the open cabinet in front of me. Crossing my arms, I lean my hip against the countertop, watching him clutch the sheet to his lap. “FYI, I already got a peek at what you’re trying to hide there, and while it is impressive, it’s nothing that I haven’t seen before.”
A slow, easy grin spreads across his face as he nods to my clothes. “I’m telling myself the same thing about you, Kitten, but my dick just doesn’t seem to wanna listen.”
My face heats as I look down at my sleeping shorts and tank top. They’d seemed innocuous enough, but now I realize how little they actually cover.
He wraps the sheet around his waist and stands, walking over to the fridge to retrieve the butter. Then he saunters over to me, until he’s close enough that I feel the heat from his skin. “Here,” he says, holding up the unopened stick.
The way he says it, it almost seems like a dare. But what, exactly, is he daring me to do? Make a move? Kiss him?
That’s not going to happen. I’m trying to be on the straight and narrow. I’m trying to be better than the girl I left behind. I might have been born into nothing, but that doesn’t mean I have to do nothing with my life. I want to go to college; I want to make something of myself. And this tattooed package of sin standing before me is one distraction I cannot afford, no matter how tempting he might be.
Keeping my eyes on the butter, I’m careful not to touch his fingers as I take it. “Thank you.” The words are so quiet I’m not even sure he hears them.
I cook the rest of the meal in peace. Declan disappears down the hallway at some point and returns wearing a pair of red basketball shorts and a black and white Vans t-shirt. I’m simultaneously grateful and saddened that he’s obstructed my view of his fabulous body.
Toast pops up in the toaster and I add it to his plate before walking our food over to the dining table. Declan grabs two glasses and the gallon of milk from the fridge, then meets me there.
As he eyes the food on our plates, he frowns. “Mine’s bigger than yours.”
I nod and cut off a chunk of omelette with my fork. “You’re way bigger than me, so. . .”
“So,” he says, switching our plates. “I’m obviously well-fed. You, on the other hand—”
I smack his hand away and take my plate back. “I don’t need a fifty pound omelette, okay? I have every intention of finishing what’s on my plate, and if I’m still hungry, I’ll make myself another one. Deal?”
He begrudgingly picks up his fork, his brows still angry dark slashes above his brilliant green eyes, and mutters, “Deal.” His face relaxes after the first bite. “Holy shit, this is really good.”
I swallow and take a drink. “Thank you.” I’ve been cooking since I was tall enough to see over the stove, and I’d like to think that after so many years, I know what I’m doing. Well, in the kitchen, at least. Life in general . . . not so much.
Declan’s eyes dip down to the bruise on my face while he eats, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He probably doesn’t want an awkward reminder of last night lingering over us, and I can’t really blame him. He steers clear of it altogether and says, “You didn’t have to cook, you know. I could’ve gone to get us something.”
“Are your culinary skills really that bad that you can’t make an omelette?”
“Oh, yeah,” he says around a mouthful of food. “I would’ve burned it for sure.”
The faint trace of those damn dimples have my own lips curving into a grin as I cut off another bite. “And yes, I did have to make breakfast. It’s the least I could do, since you’re letting me stay here.” He opens his mouth, probably to protest, but I hold up my hand and say, “As long as I’m here, I’m gonna chip in for my share of things—rent, utilities, groceries, whatever.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, but as you so passionately pointed out last night, I’m not hurting for money. So you can keep yours. Save it for your own place or something.”
“But—”
“No buts.”
My mouth snaps shut as I silently fume. I’m not his problem or responsibility, and I hate that he’s turning me into his burden. “I asked you for a job, not for you to be my knight in shining armor. You can’t save me, Declan.”
He sets his fork down, the muscle along his jaw working. “Sorry, but I’m not a dick. I can’t just sit by and watch you come to work every day, knowing you sleep in that f*cking tin box you call a car. I’m sorry, but I just can’t do it.” He shakes his head, agitated, as his knee bobs up and down. “I’m trying to do the right thing here, all right? Just tell me what that is, and I’ll f*cking do it.”
My breath leaves me and a sliver of some unknown emotion tries to weasel itself into the vacated space in my chest. “Why?”
His fist slams against the table. “Why not?” He hangs his head as his fingers run through his hair. When he looks back up at me, his expression’s weary. “Don’t fight me on this. Just take it, please. For my ego and my sanity, just take it.”
The wall around my heart has been a part of me since I was old enough to know disappointment. No one’s ever been inside it, but I feel Declan’s words chipping away at the cold, harsh exterior, leaving me panicked.
I’m afraid Declan Whitmore could make the whole thing come tumbling down if I’m not careful.
“Fine,” I say, setting my fork down. “But if you’re not gonna take my money, then at least let me do something else for you.”
He cocks a brow, his eyes flicking down my body.
I fist my napkin and throw it at him. “No, you perv! I meant like cooking and cleaning.”
Clearing his throat, he bends down and picks my napkin off the floor. “Good, ’cause I wouldn’t have taken you up on that offer either.”
My eyebrows shoot up in an incredulous expression. “Oh, really? Because your hard-on fifteen minutes ago says otherwise.”
Declan tosses my napkin onto his empty plate and stands. “Trust me, when we go down that path—and something tells me we will go down that path—it’s not gonna be out of some obligation you feel towards me.” He puts one hand on the table and the other on the back of my chair, leaning down to murmur in my ear, “It’ll be because you can’t go another second without having me inside you. And when that second comes, I promise you, Kitten, I will make you beg for it.”
His breath brushes the shell of my ear, and I swallow, closing my eyes to keep them from rolling back into my head. It should be illegal for words that sinful to come out of someone so hot. It’s not fair to my central nervous system.
While I’m trying to think of a witty comeback, his phone rings, and I use the opportunity to slip away while I still have functional brain cells.

The water pouring out of the showerhead is ice cold. I hadn’t meant to stay in here so long, but this is the first honest-to-God shower I’ve had in days. I might’ve overindulged a little bit. . .
I turn off the water and slide the shower curtain aside as someone knocks twice in quick succession. A deep voice says, “Hide your schlong, bro, I’m comin’ in.”
I have just enough time to grab the shower curtain and yank it over me before the door swings open and I lock eyes with a very surprised stranger.
“You’re not Declan,” he says dumbly.
Water drips down me, and I shiver from the cold air he’s letting in. “No shit.”
Swallowing, his eyes roam down. “You know that’s see-through, right?”
I look down and see my tits mashed against the clear plastic, as well as the top mound of my lady bits. Everyone within a five mile radius probably hears my shriek for him to GTFO.
My heart is still racing as he backs out and closes the door.
Who the hell is that?
I almost slip on the tile as I scurry over to the door, dripping water everywhere in my haste to lock the damn thing. Declan’s been gone for hours now, so I hadn’t bothered with it.
Grabbing my towel off the rack, I wrap it around me. Muted voices drift down the hallway from the living room. Please, God, tell me Declan’s back, because I so do not want to be alone with some strange guy who walked in on me naked.
I unlock the door and crack it open, seeing Declan and the guy leaving through the open front door. They’re deep in conversation about something I can’t quite hear.
And they’re clearly not leaving, leaving, otherwise they would’ve closed the door behind them, so I hurry across the hallway to Declan’s room before they come back. Shivering in the cold air, I dig through my laundry basket of clean clothes and get dressed as fast as I can.
Is that his roommate, or something? Declan hadn’t mentioned having one, but who else would just walk into someone’s apartment like that?
I soak up as much excess water from my hair as I can, then tie it into a low ponytail. I’d check my reflection in the mirror above the dresser, but I already know what I’d see: pink cheeks and a flustered face. My heart’s in my throat as I walk down the hallway, hearing their conversation drift out from the kitchen.
“Since when do you want to hang out with me?” Declan asks.
There’s a beat of silence before a deep voice answers, “Since our dad’s dying and our family’s gone to shit.”
His words make me pause just out of their sight. My chest constricts at what I now realize are his brother’s words. I frown at the unwelcome feeling welling inside me at his plight. Since when do I care what happens to other people? I’m a cold, heartless bitch, remember?
Except when it comes to Declan. Then you’re a fiery, passionate bitch.
My scowl deepens at the little nagging voice inside me. She’s not exactly wrong. He gets to me like no one else ever has. Whether that’s a good thing or not, I still haven’t decided.
Declan and his brother come into view as I take a few more steps. “I can’t right now, but maybe—”
Declan’s words die as he locks eyes with me. “Uh. . .” He looks back at his brother. For the first time since entering the room, I do too, and see him staring back at me with a knowing smile.
I immediately look away, feeling my cheeks go from pink to a shade of red commonly reserved for fire trucks.
Good looks apparently run in Declan’s family, but they don’t look that much alike. At least, I don’t think they do. I don’t know. It was kinda hard to tell from the .004 seconds I was able to keep eye contact with him before it felt like I’d spontaneously combust from embarrassment. Hell, they could be twins for all I know.
Movement catches my eye and I look at Declan. He’s shaking his head, almost like he’s trying to clear it. “Sorry. Savannah, this is—”
“Blake. Hi, nice to meet you.” His voice is all sexy, warm, and deep—a definite bedroom voice. Despite my best efforts, I glance up at him again, seeing a panty-dropping grin to match. “Sorry about walking in on you like that. If it makes you feel better, I’ll give you a peek at my junk to even the score.” He winks at me. “I promise you won’t be disappointed.”
Is death by humiliation a real thing? Because it seems absolutely possible in this moment.
My face scrunches up into something that can best be described as a grimace. “Please stop talking,” I say, holding up my hand.
“You’re not embarrassed, are you? ’Cause, baby, let me tell you, you’ve got nothing to be—”
His words are cut off by Declan’s fist slamming into his shoulder. Blake glares at him as he rubs it, while Declan looks at him incredulously and says, “What the hell, man? Did you have a big bowl of stupid for breakfast?”
I’m thankful for Declan’s interjection, but still beyond mortified. I hope to God that Blake doesn’t live here, because I won’t be able to face him every day, knowing he’s probably picturing me naked every time I see him. “Declan, can I talk to you for a sec?” I turn and head back down the hall to his room.
A few seconds later, he’s closing the door behind him as I cross my arms. “I’m sorry about my brother,” he says. “He’s a special kind of stupid.”
“Does he live here?”
“Nah, he just stopped by to talk to me.”
I’m pacing the foot of his bed, biting my thumbnail, when he asks, “Are you okay?”
Stopping, I face him. What a stupid question. “No, I’m not okay! Your dipshit brother walked in on me in the shower, Declan. He saw me naked. I can’t—” I shake my head, trying to swallow the knot forming in my throat. My thoughts are spiraling out of control. “I can’t stay here if people are gonna be coming into your apartment like that. I mean, what if he—”
My arms tighten around myself as I try to stave off the shiver building within me. I’m very well aware that just because Blake didn’t try to force himself on me, it doesn’t mean it couldn’t have happened. I don’t know the kind of company Declan keeps and I sure as shit can’t vouch for Blake’s integrity.
My eyes burn as I stare at Declan’s chest, unable to meet his gaze. I feel violated and stupid all at the same time, because I saw the dumbstruck look on Blake’s face when he walked in on me. I know it was an accident. But at the same time, I’m pissed, because Blake got something I didn’t want to give. It’s drudging up painful things I want to stay buried and dead.
I shove the memories back down that are trying to rise up with the bile. I’m not that na?ve girl anymore. I’m smarter now. Stronger.
Dropping my gaze to the floor, I wipe my nose. Tears are welling in my eyes, but I refuse to blink and spill them.
“Shit.” Declan sighs. “Savannah, I’m sorry. This is all my fault. I didn’t lock the door after I left this morning. I figured you were here, and I didn’t think . . . I didn’t think. I’m sorry. It’ll never happen again. You have my word.”
“He doesn’t have a key?” My jaw clenches as I silently will these damn tears to recede back into my tear ducts, even though I know that’s not how biology works. Faucets only flow one way.
“No one has a key but me.”
He reaches up and brushes his knuckles along my cheek. I blink in surprise and look up at him, right as two fat tears slip down my face. His eyes blaze down at me as the pad of his thumb swipes away a tear.
His gaze flits to my mouth, which I think has parted in shock. He blinks and pulls his hand away as he makes his “concentration” face.
“Sorry. . .” Declan squeezes the back of his neck, looking as confused as I feel. “You have no idea how much I’ve been dying to touch you, and you just looked so sad, and I—”
He takes a breath for the first time since blurting all that out and looks at me. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
The honesty of his words is completely disarming and the look on his face right now . . . it kills me. I’ve never seen someone look so sincere and I have no idea how to deal with such emotional honesty. It rips away my bitchy exterior and squashes any outrage I’d normally have that he just up and touched me without my permission. I find myself wanting to tell him it’s okay, that I liked his touch and I desperately want him to touch me again.
I won’t, of course. Declan might be comfortable with saying what’s on his mind, but I’m not. Not like that, at least.
All I can manage to do is nod at his words, acknowledging that I’ve heard them. I’ve never had anyone rattle my defenses this much, and I think I’m still shell-shocked from the breach.
I turn and start opening the door, but Declan puts his hand on it and stops me. I feel him just behind me—close, but not touching. “I don’t know what you’re running from, but you’re safe here. You’re safe with me.”
My head nods again and he removes his hand, letting me slip out the door. For the first time in a really long time, I want to believe someone’s not totally full of shit.

? ? ?
I’m in love. His name is Samsung, and I think we’ll have a long and beautiful relationship.
I sigh and sink into Declan’s couch, mesmerized by the crisp images on the giant flat screen before me. I didn’t even know they made TVs with built-in Wi-Fi. How cool is—
“You ready?”
I jump at Declan’s voice. When he said he just needed to take a quick shower before we headed to the store, he wasn’t kidding. He wasn’t even gone for a whole ten minutes.
Turning the TV off, I toss the remote on the couch and stand, pausing when I finally get a good look at him. He’s really not wearing anything special—faded jeans and a plain white tee—but on him, with those tattoos covering his arms. . .
My. God.
I swallow, feeling my mouth go dry as my insides clench. I don’t know where to look. I like it all. His tats, his biceps, his face, his lip ring—
Wait, what?
Doing a double take, I see that, yep, holy shit, his lip is pierced. How am I just now noticing this? I look closely, realizing it’s the “earring” I saw this morning. He hasn’t worn it to work, probably because he’s usually sparring with that guy. . .
I frown, briefly wondering if Declan’s some kind of boxer or something. Why else would he be sparring practically every day?
“Your lip is pierced.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I feel like an idiot. Of course he knows his lip is pierced, Captain Obvious—it’s his damn lip.
He takes his bottom lip between his teeth, trying to stifle the smile pulling on the corners. “It is.”
Oh, God. He’s trying not to laugh at me and my spectacular observational skills. Feigning confidence, I say, “I’d ask if you have any other piercings, but I already know the answer to that,” and smirk as I glance down at his crotch.
He leans in and reaches past me, grabbing his keys from the breakfast bar. “Maybe I just didn’t have the piercing in at the time,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.
My mouth drops open. “Wait—do you?” I ask, following him out the door and down the steps. It wouldn’t be such a leap with all his tattoos and the piercings I have seen, but the thought of it still has me shocked and, honestly, a little interested. I’ve never met a guy who has their junk pierced.
Well, not up close and personally, at least.
Declan stops at a sleek, black vintage car I’ve seen in the parking lot every day. I should’ve known this is his car. It screams “Declan.”
“I’ll make you a deal,” he says over the roof of his car as he unlocks his door. “You show me your vibrator and I’ll whip out my cock so you can see for yourself.”
I roll my eyes, but I feel heat creeping into my cheeks and spilling down my neck at the idea of him “whipping it out.” This, of course, only makes his smile widen as he climbs in and pops the lock on my door.
Getting in, I mutter, “I don’t want to see it, I was just curious.”
“Mmm-hmm.” He glances over at me as he sticks the keys in the ignition. “Is that why you barged in on me last night? Because you were curious?”
The warmth in my face burns hotter at his insinuation that it was anything other than an accident on my part. It definitely wasn’t. Goddamn it, why am I the one blushing when he’s the one who got caught masturbating?
Declan turns the ignition and the engine rumbles to life. I’m immediately jealous that a car twenty years older than my already ancient Honda just starts right up, without any coaxing or sweet-talking. It’s not fair. I had to tell my car “I love you” three times yesterday before the damn thing would turn over.
Needy bitch.
“You know what they say about curiosity and the cat, right, Kitten?” Declan winks at me, grinning smugly.
My lips purse as I shake my head and buckle my seatbelt. He wants to tease me? Fine. But for his sake, I hope he can take it as well as he dishes it out. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but it wasn’t curiosity that had me barging in on you.”
Arm outstretched, he rests his wrist on top of the steering wheel. I can’t help but stare at all that inked muscle. “Oh, yeah?” he says, amused. “What was it, then?”
“Necessity.” My eyes flick up to his. “I’d just gone a round with my vibrator and I had a huge mess to clean up. I was soaked when I accidentally walked in on you doing what I’d been doing only minutes before.”
Declan’s smile fades, his face going slack before the back of his head hits the headrest and his eyes close. “I don’t even care if you’re kidding. I’m just gonna pretend like you’re serious, because holy f*cking shit is that hot.”
“I am serious. Had to bite one of your pillows to keep from screaming out. And, um, I should probably wash your sheets when we get back. They got kind of . . . wet.”
His jaw clenches as his eyes squeeze shut even tighter. Gripping the steering wheel, his knuckles bleach with the force.
This is too easy.
I’m grinning like a madwoman as he reaches down and tugs on his jeans, trying to make room for the impossible-to-miss bulge jutting out from his crotch.
“You have no idea what you’ve just done.” His voice is low and hoarse as he looks over at me, giving me a rueful smile. “I’m gonna be a walking hard-on for the rest of my life because of that.”
I bite my lip, trying to tamp down my own smile. “Do you need to go back upstairs and, uh, take care of that?” I ask, pointing down to his lap.
“Only if you join me.”
His response makes me chuckle as I face forward. “Yeah, not gonna happen.”
He laughs and puts the car in gear, slinging his arm over the back of the old-school bench seat as he turns to look behind us. Backing out of the spot, he glances at me. “You’re fun. I like you.”
Declan doesn’t like me, he likes flirting with me. There’s a big difference. But he’s right, it’s fun. I’ve never really taken the time to do it before.
As we pull out of the parking lot, I watch the traffic around us and the storefronts on the busy street, but I feel his eyes on me, observing me, and my skin burns hotter under his scrutiny. “I . . . don’t hate you, either,” I say, stealing a peek at him.
He bites his bottom lip, the small silver hoop on the side glinting in the fading daylight as he tries to crush his smile. “You can’t even admit that you like me?”
That lip ring is taunting me. I didn’t think it was possible for Declan to get any hotter, but somehow that little piece of metal is just icing on top of a very delicious cake. I want to sink my teeth into him and suck that ring into my mouth. “Like is a strong word.” I’m slightly breathless as I say it, and if I were in the right state of mind, I’d be a little embarrassed by that.
Declan clears his throat and looks away, like his mind’s splashing around in the gutter, right next to mine. His voice is lower as he grips the steering wheel. “What am I gonna do with you, Kitten?”
It’s a rhetorical question, so I don’t answer him. But the dirty, sex-starved side of me wants to tell him, “Whatever you want.”