Down and Out(14)

Somehow, I manage to take a few bites without everything falling out the other end. I can feel Declan watching me the whole time. I don’t like being watched while I eat, especially by someone super-hot. He’s making me horribly self-conscious, and I can’t even bring myself to look at him.
Incidentally, the sandwich is really good. So good, that I’m trying not to let my eyes roll back and moan in a way that wouldn’t be appropriate outside a sexual act. I think this might just be the best damn sandwich I’ve ever had, but that could very well be because I haven’t eaten anything all day.
I finish half of it and set the rest down. Swallowing my current bite, I grab the tall glass of milk next to my plate. I take a sip, looking off to the living room as Declan’s eyes bore into me.
“My culinary skills are pretty limited, so. . .”
Setting the glass down, I lick my lips, hyperaware of any stray crumbs lingering on my mouth. “No, it’s good,” I say, forcing a smile.
He frowns at my uneaten half. “Then why aren’t you eating?”
Because you won’t stop staring at me, and I’m afraid I’m gonna smear food all over my face like some incompetent fool.
“I’m full.” I push the plate away, although I could probably polish it off if I didn’t have an audience. 
Declan pushes it back. “I don’t care. Eat.”
Nothing brings out my ornery side faster than a bossy attitude, and his demand just sent me into bitch mode. “Not if you’re just gonna sit there and watch me like some kind of weirdo.”
He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “What if I sit here and talk?”
“It’s not like I can stop you.” As evidenced by the evening’s turn of events. . .
I pick up the rest of my sandwich and take a careful bite, giving him a “well?” look.
“How’d you wind up sleeping in your car? Did your boyfriend kick you out or something?”
Of course he’d ask me that. Stifling a sigh, because I’m not going to talk about it, I lift the glass of milk to my lips and take a long sip before I set it back down. My movements are slow, lingering, and slightly sexual. “Is that your way of asking me if I have a boyfriend?”
“No. If I wanted to ask you that, I’d come right out with it and ask you.” His eyes roam down to the bit of skin exposed by my tank top before they flick back up to me. A smile plays with the edges of his mouth, but it never fully forms. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
Laughing, I shake my head. “No. I don’t do relationships.”
Declan grabs his beer, preparing to take a sip. “You know, most girls who say they’re not looking for a relationship actually are.”
I shrug, smiling coyly. “I’m not most girls.” That was quick, even for me. He forgot all about asking me how I ended up in my car after only a few suggestive moves.
He takes a sip and asks, “So why don’t you do relationships?”
My brow lifts as I stare at him. “Are you telling me you do?” No. No freaking way does this beautiful, tattooed god prefer monogamy over an endless stream of women who would jump at the chance to jump him.
“Why does that sound so preposterous?” he asks, frowning.
I blink as my eyes widen marginally. Apparently he’s going to make me spell it out for him. “Well . . . look at you,” I say, gesturing to the sleeves of ink sticking out from the sleeves of his plain white tee. “You don’t really look like the relationship type.”
“What type do I look like?”
The reckless type who specializes in amazing sex.
I shrug, instinctively licking my lips as I look him over. “Short-lived fun.”
He leans back in his chair and folds his hands behind his head. His shoulders lift in a lazy shrug as he gives me a cocky smile. “Well, you’re not exactly wrong. I don’t do relationships either, only casual hookups.”
My lips press into a thin line, trying to suppress my smile. I knew it. I freaking knew it. “You’re giving me shit when I was right? You ass,” I say, playfully kicking him under the table.
He laughs, deep and throaty, as his head tilts back. I kind of like the sound. When he looks back at me, his green eyes are alight with warmth. “So tell me, Kitten, why don’t you do relationships?”
My eyes narrow on him as I pick up my sandwich and take another bite. I shouldn’t like that nickname at all, but it’s kind of growing on me. After I chew and swallow, I say, “Why don’t you?”
His lips twitch in amusement. “I asked you first.”
My eyes roll at the immature response, but this conversation’s turning out more entertaining than I thought, so I throw him a bone. “Because it’s a waste of time and perfectly good mascara. I say, save yourself the heartache and the drama. Buy a vibrator instead.”
Declan’s chair tips forward as his elbows lean on the table, his face growing animated. “Wait—do you have a vibrator? Can I see it?”
I nearly choke as laughter erupts out of me. “No! And hell no.” I’d never show it to him. I’d rather die first.
My face heats under his gleeful gaze. I should’ve known he’d take this whole vibrator thing and run with it.
“Just answer one question for me. How big is it?”
My jaw practically hits the floor and I swear my face is about to burst into flames. But his cocky grin has me pressing my lips back together, trying to keep from smiling as I say, “Bigger than whatever you’re packing, I’m sure.”