The Intern (The Dalton Family #4)(87)

The flush was leaving her cheeks as her breathing sped up, her skin tone almost turning pale. She was thinking the worst, fearing that I was putting an end to us.

She was in for a big surprise.

“Another thing about me, Hannah, is that I don’t allow people to fight back. I don’t even give them a chance to speak. Their opinion is meaningless to me. When my mind is made up—like it is now—I don’t give a fuck about what they have to say.”

“But you let me speak the other night.”

I nodded. “I did, and I listened to everything you said.” My foot dropped to the floor, and I pulled myself to the edge of the desk. “And I even understood why you hadn’t told me the truth. It doesn’t mean I like it, but given the evidence that you had, I can see how you drew that conclusion.”

She crossed her arms. “Why do I feel like there’s a but?”

“You’re right. There is a but. Because there’s a whole other side to this.” My head dropped, so she couldn’t see my smile. “This brilliant, stunning fucking firecracker came into my life and bulldozed right through every one of my walls.” When I glanced up, her eyes were getting teary. “I don’t know what you did to me, Hannah, but you made me listen to you. You made me search for forgiveness. And that grudge that I always held, you made it fall.”

“Declan …” She wiped the corners of her eyes.

“You fought for me. That’s what you’ve been doing since our argument. Fighting. Nonstop. For me.” I took a breath. “I’ve felt it every day.” I reached across the desk and held out my hand. “I don’t want there to be distance between us. In fact, where you’re sitting now is even too far away.”

A tear dripped down her cheek as she clasped our fingers together and said, “When you love someone, you fight.”

Damn it. I felt that one.

It hit.

And then it hit again.

“With the way men are attracted to you, it looks like I’ll be fighting for the woman I love for the rest of my life.” I clenched my jaw and growled, “Now, go lock my door.”

She laughed.

It was the best sound I’d ever heard.

“You have a meeting in ten minutes, followed by another meeting forty-five minutes later. I’ll be gone before the first one is even over.”

“Cancel both.”

“Ford will gut me if I do that.” She wiped her cheeks, the tears long gone from her eyes. “The first one is with Stephanie Baxter, one of his wealthiest clients. She’s been waiting almost a month to get in with you.”

I thought for a second. “All right, then come to my house tonight.”

“Tonight?” Her eyes widened. “You do know this is the biggest weekend of my life, right? And everyone and their great-aunt is coming into town to celebrate my joint graduation with Camden.”

I squeezed her fingers. “I can’t wait until your graduation party to kiss you.”

Until now, I hadn’t told her I was going.

As the recognition registered, a softness drifted across her face. “You just made it impossible for me to say no.”

“Dinner, my place—you know, the house where I’ve never brought any other woman before.”

She moved in closer, pressing her tits against my desk. “And you’re going to give me those lips—you know, the ones you’ve never given to any woman besides me.”

I winked. “You’re always the exception, Hannah.”

She released my hand and sauntered toward the door, glancing at me over her shoulder as she said, “I’ll bring dessert.”

“There’s only one thing I want for dessert, and that’s you.”





TWENTY-SIX





HANNAH





Butterflies. That was the only way I could describe the feeling in my stomach as I walked up to Declan’s front door. This wasn’t the first time I’d been here. We’d spent plenty of time together since our return from Wyoming. But this occasion felt different than those previous dates.

It felt more significant.

It finally felt like all the obstacles were moved out of our way now that we’d had conversations with my family, and as of this evening, I was no longer interning at The Dalton Group.

And it felt like our relationship had changed.

Intern Hannah wasn’t knocking on his door.

Girlfriend Hannah was.

I’d stripped off my suit when I got home, and after a shower, I’d put on leggings and a tank top, adding very little makeup with my hair in a high ponytail. This was the version of me that I wanted Declan to wrap his arms around.

He opened the door, wearing a pair of dark jeans, a white T-shirt that fit snugly over his incredibly defined chest, and bare feet. His thick lips were outlined in delicious, dark scruff.

I shifted my weight, balancing my overnight bag and two Tupperware containers. “Hi.”

As his hand moved up the frame of the door, his eyes taking in the entire length of me, my lungs tightened, a feeling consuming me that went far deeper than just a physical reaction.

“Hannah …” His voice was deep, growly. “Some women try so hard to look beautiful. You”—his eyes dipped before slowly rising—“do it so effortlessly. Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”