The Intern (The Dalton Family #4)(88)

His compliment made me breathe harder.

“Casual is my favorite.” I ran just my fingertips over his abs, feeling the ripples and line of dark hair through the thin material. “On both of us.”

He moved to the side, adding more space to the doorway. “Come in.”

I didn’t get farther than the entrance before he gripped the back of my head, steering my face closer to his.

“I need those lips.”

He slammed our mouths together.

Tasting.

Feeding.

And when he pulled away, he roared, “Exactly what I needed.”

Standing this close—my lips still wet and tasting of him, the feel of his skin against mine, the wind of his cologne, the heat from his presence—it was sensory overload.

With his hand on my face, he kissed me again. “Fuck, I missed this.”

My eyes drifted open.

“This smile”—he tightened his hold on my cheek—“I don’t want it to fade tonight.”

“I can’t see how it could.”

Not with the way I was feeling.

How I was still hardly breathing.

“Come on,” he said, his hand now on my back, leading me into the kitchen.

As I set the containers on his island, he took the bag from my shoulder and took it into his bedroom.

Every time I came here, I fell more in love with his home. An environment that was pristine, a style that was masculine. Dark art covered steel-gray walls, the floors rich and ebony. Molding and lighting weren’t just accents; they were used as decor. I’d once commented on how even his entryway was decorated to perfection, and he’d said every litigator needed a strong opening statement.

Except Declan’s entire house was a statement.

One I would love to spend much more time in.

I closed my eyes and took in the aroma, and as I heard Declan rejoin me in the kitchen, I said, “Whatever Peter prepared smells delicious.”

“Tonight wasn’t Peter. It was all me.”

His admission caused my eyelids to open.

Declan’s private chef had made us dinner every time I came over. His food was amazing, and his presentation was five-star worthy. I’d had no idea Declan even knew how to cook.

“So, you’re telling me that this gorgeous kitchen wasn’t just designed for Peter?” I scanned the high-end appliances, the extra-tall cabinets, the island that was the length of my whole bedroom.

He tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear. “In college, I quickly learned that if I wanted decent food, I was going to have to make it myself. So, I did. I just don’t have time to do much cooking anymore. Hence why Peter works for me full-time.” He moved to the other side of the kitchen, where he decanted a bottle of red before he poured some into two glasses.

“What’s the special occasion?”

He returned to my side and handed me a glass. “You.”

God, this man.

“Well, whatever you made, it smells amazing.” I tilted my face up to him.

He held his glass to mine. “To graduating law school with top honors and the highest accumulated hours of pro bono work during the year.” He kissed me. “That’s impressive.”

“How did you know about my pro bono work?”

He smiled. “You know I have plenty of connections at that school.”

“What else did Professor Ward tell you?”

“She didn’t know that I’d switched firms and wanted to see if there were any openings at Smith & Klein in case you decided you didn’t want to work at The Dalton Group.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “She did that for me?”

“She believes in you, Hannah. You’re her top student, and she wanted to make sure you had options.”

Still holding my glass to his, I said, “Did you tell her I was your intern?”

“I might have skipped that detail, but I did mention that we’re dating, and I promised to take good care of you—not when it comes to law. You have that all figured out on your own.”

I gave him a quick kiss. “I’ll cheers to that.”

“What did you make?” A grin spread across his face while he waited for me to reply. “Or is it a surprise?”

I set my glass down and reached for the containers—one blue, one red—and I loosened the top of the red one. “I had some brownies in the freezer that I was going to bring over. Oreo-flavored ones. But since I had some extra time after I left the office, I whipped up something else.” I lifted off the lid. “Everly says my cupcakes are the best, so that’s what I went with.”

He pulled my body against his, holding the top of my ass. “I thought I made it clear that you were going to be my dessert tonight.”

“You can have both.”

He looked toward the treats. “Vanilla?”

“There’s nothing vanilla about you, Declan.”

I swiped some frosting off the side of one, and he sucked the glob off my fingertip.

“Apple,” he moaned.

“And there’s apple pie filling in the center of the cake part along with tiny, tiny apple chunks mixed into the frosting.”

He set my wine down and lifted me into his arms. “Because it’s my favorite.” He kissed me, a burst of sweetness coming off his tongue. “You’re too good to me.”