He doesn’t stop after my body explodes; he keeps going, sending me into a freefall. Every bone in my body aches, both his hands holding both of mine through every orgasm that pounds through my body. It becomes too much, but I don’t deny his appetite.
I let him take me higher as my chest seizes in overwhelming paroxysms love. It’s only when I lose my breath and begin to gasp for air that he stops. He moves above me, but I can’t make out his face. Everything is drowned behind hazy pops of light as I struggle to fill my lungs with its life source.
My body lies limp on the sheets that are drenched in our arousal, sweat, and blood. There’s no doubt that Declan is as raw as they come, but that’s what I love about him. This love is shamelessly amaranthine.
He’s all over me.
I’m all over him.
There’s no doubt we belong to each other.
My body is sore as I walk down the stairs with Declan. We’re showered and dressed and in dire need of food. Walking into the kitchen, Lachlan says goodbye to whomever he’s talking to on his cell.
“Afternoon,” he greets when we walk in.
Declan starts pulling out food from the fridge, and I eye Lachlan’s cup of coffee and the French press on the table, asking, “Is the kettle still hot?”
“Yes.”
I take a teacup down from the cabinet and begin to prepare a cup of hot tea.
“Roasted tomatoes and toast?”
“That sounds good,” I respond to Declan as I take my tea to the table to join Lachlan.
It’s been nice having him around. When Declan is up in his office working, Lachlan will often take walks with me outside. It’s a relief that his treatment of me never changed after what he saw the night he and Declan found me. His banter has been a welcome reprieve from the stress of late.
“Are you hungry?”
He takes a sip of his coffee before responding. “I had a bowl of oatmeal already.”
I try to hide my laughter, but he catches me, giving me a questioning glare.
“You eat that every morning.”
“It’s good.”
“It’s old man food.”
He removes his glasses, and sets down the newspaper he’s reading, and teases, “Says the old lady who’s about to eat toast for a meal.”
“Touché,” I admit with a smile, and quickly change the direction of conversation, asking eagerly, “Have you found any leads on my dad?”
“I’ve made calls to all the contacts I have that have links to the airlines. I’m waiting to hear back.”
“Well, how long do we just sit and wait?”
“I know you’re anxious,” he tells me, “but it’s only been a day. I promise you I’m doing all I can, love.”
“Lachlan,” Declan calls out when he shuts the oven door, taking Lachlan’s attention. “What did you decide about London?”
“A hotel would be best.”
“A hotel?” I ask. “A hotel for what?”
Declan takes a seat next to me at the table. “Lachlan’s coming with us to London.”
“Why?”
“For protection.”
“I don’t need a babysitter, Declan.”
“Is that so?”
Narrowing my eyes, miffed, I respond, “Richard’s dead. What are you worried about?”
“When it comes to you . . . everything.”
I look to Lachlan and tell him, “No offense, but I don’t need you looking over my shoulder.”
“I agree with Declan on this one.”
“We’ll be living in one of the most secure buildings in the world,” I argue. “What could possibly happen?”
“What about Jacqueline?”
“Jacqueline? Richard’s wife?” I practically laugh. “She’s nothing. She’s a socialite. A housewife. A whore. A—”
“A widow,” Declan interrupts harshly. “She knows we killed her husband.”
“She doesn’t have it in her. She’s too weak.”
“I wouldn’t be so quick to underestimate. She’s lost everything, and now her baby has no father.”
“Richard wasn’t her baby’s father,” I reveal. “It’s Bennett’s child.”
Declan’s brows cinch together in question, and I explain, “He got her pregnant while I was married to him. I didn’t know until after he died. That bomb was laid on me when I went to have the will read. Bennett left the business assets to him.”
He quickly looks to Lachlan, saying, “Could you give us a minute?”
“Of course.”
Once Lachlan leaves the room, Declan continues, “You took his money?”
His accusing voice has a lick of judgment to it, sparking a tingle of rebellion from me.
“Yes,” I bite. “I took it.”
“How much?”
“Not as much as his bastard child got, but enough.”
His teeth grind before he presses further, stressing his words, “How much, Elizabeth?”
My hands grow tense when I think about the number, but I tell him the truth. “One point two.”
Declan releases a relieved sigh, and it’s then I realize he’s assuming fewer zeros, so I clarify, adding, “Billion.”
“Billion?” he blurts out.
“Yes, Declan. One point two billion. Surely you knew how wealthy he was. This shouldn’t come as a surprise. The only thing that was surprising was how little I got.”
My words are snappy, and it frustrates me to see his indignation.