Down and Out(15)

Laughter bellows out of Declan as he claps and throws his head back. “By all means, Kitten, look under the table and compare them for yourself.” He bites his lip and shifts in his seat, tugging on his jeans under the table.
Oh my god, he’s hard.
I blink and drop my eyes, picking up the rest of my sandwich just so I’ll have something to do, because I’m seriously tempted to have a little look-see.
“That can’t be very . . . fulfilling,” he continues. “No pun intended.”
I roll my eyes as I eat. No pun intended my ass.
He shrugs. “There are lots of things a man can do that a vibrator can’t.”
Flashing him a cynical smile, I pop the last little bit of sandwich into my mouth. “Maybe,” I say around it, then swallow. “But a vibrator can’t break your heart.”
Declan watches me as I grab my glass of milk and finish it off. “So that’s it? You’re just gonna go through life celibate?”
“I never said I was celibate, I said I don’t do relationships. Sex and monogamy aren’t mutually exclusive.” The glass clinks on the tabletop as I set it down and grin lasciviously. He doesn’t need to know that I’m celibate for now. A little harmless flirting never hurt anyone.
His brows pinch. “I think I love you.” Chuckling, he says, “Seriously, where have you been all my life?”
Despite the smile toying with my lips, I roll my eyes. “Love’s a myth. It’s just a bunch a chemicals wreaking havoc on your brain.”
Grinning, Declan bites his lip and slaps the table. “That’s where you’re wrong. Love is real, I’ve seen it.”
My brows lift at his passionate response. “Oh, really?”
He nods. “My pops was married to my nana for forty-one years before she passed, and up until the day she died, he looked at her like . . . I don’t know. Like she was Christmas morning.”
My snark dies at his faraway expression. He’s clearly recalling a life and family filled with love that I can’t even begin to understand. In my experience, love doesn’t exist outside of movies or books.
Without thinking, I say, “I take it your dad never looked at your mom like that?” and immediately wish I could take it back. It’s kind of a rude question, and it’s none of my business.
Declan’s lips turn down as he’s thrust from whatever pleasant memory he was just reliving. “Nah. He usually reserved those looks for something special, like a bottle of Jim, Jack, or Jose.”
“Oh,” I say, aiming for indifference. So his dad has a drinking problem. Or had. I’m not sure, and I’m not about to ask.
Asking people questions about their past makes them think they can ask you about yours, and they can’t, not with me. Well, they can, but I won’t answer them.
His head tilts to the side as he crosses his arms. “You never did answer my question, you know. About how you wound up sleeping in your car. You got me sidetracked with your talk of sex and vibrators.”
“Um, you got you sidetracked with the vibrator talk.”
His eyes narrow, like he’s studying me. “You’re doing it again.”
I nod slowly. “Yeah, I am.”
Damn. Declan’s more perceptive than I thought.
He stares me down for several seconds, his eyes searching mine, but he doesn’t seem mad or annoyed. He seems . . . intrigued. “You’re not gonna tell me, are you?”
Declan’s definitely astute, I’ll give him that much. I shake my head, pressing my lips together in a rueful smile. “Not tonight. That’s too personal.”
His brows lift. “And talking about sex isn’t?”
I shake my head again. “Sex isn’t personal.”
A crooked smile touches his mouth. “Then you’re doing it wrong.”
It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes at his cheesy line. Instead, I rest my elbows on the table and lean forward, giving him a good peek at my small but visible cleavage. “And I’m sure you’d like to show me how to do it right, wouldn’t you?”
His eyes flicker, like he’s trying not to look at my tits. At my mocking smile, he says, “And on that note, I think I’m gonna go to bed before I do something stupid.”
Pressing his palms on the table, he stands, and the outline of his erection through his jeans is impossible to miss. My eyes widen at what is undoubtedly bigger than my vibrator, and he smiles down at me, like he’s thinking the same thing.






Stop thinking about it. Just go to sleep.
I sigh and throw my arm over my eyes, blocking out the shadows in the dark living room, but it’s useless. I’m hard as a rock. Have been for the past hour.
All I can think about is Savannah and that goddamn vibrator. What it looks like. What she looks like when she’s using it.
I groan and pull the sheet over my face, willing my boner to just go away. I reallllly don’t want to have to jerk off, because that seems like it’d be crossing a line. Savannah’s my employee. My homeless employee. Jerking off to her would be . . . kind of icky on my part, right?
After another five restless minutes, I mutter, “Fuck it,” and throw the sheet off me. I’m a dude. I’m supposed to be icky. Besides, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Climbing off the couch, I walk to the bathroom, my cock leading the way like a damn compass.
I shut the door behind me and turn on the lights, squinting at the glaring brightness. My eyes finally adjust and I start rifling through the cabinet under the sink for some lotion.