Down and Out(39)

I shrug before I can catch myself, feeling bursts of pain shoot up my sides and around my shoulders. “I told her not to. Told her to call Blake instead.”
“And she just listened?”
“I guess.” I was too out of it last night to really remember how much of a protest she put up, but knowing Savannah, it was probably epic. I’m actually kinda surprised she even listened to me, now that I think about it.
“She’s either stupid or incredibly loyal.”
I shoot him a glare, silently warning him to watch it.
He holds his hands up defensively. “I’m just sayin’ any normal person would’ve called nine-one-one instead of your dumbass brother. You got lucky you weren’t seriously injured.”
“I was coherent enough to tell her not to call an ambulance, all right? And if Blake really thought I needed to go to the ER, he would’ve taken me. So don’t put this all on her.”
He shakes his head, his mouth lifting into a disbelieving grin. “Damn. I never thought I’d live to see the day.”
My scowl’s still firmly in place as I start another game of Battlefield. I don’t bother looking over at him as I mutter, “Never thought you’d live to see what?”
“The day Declan Whitmore fell for a chick.”





As I walk into Declan’s apartment, exhausted and starving after a double shift at the gym, I’m greeted with the heavenly smell of simmering vegetables and mouthwatering pot roast. I could kiss myself right about now for the foresight I had this afternoon to put that roast in the slow cooker.
The living room’s dark and empty as I shut and lock the front door behind me. Actually the whole apartment’s dark, except for the light bleeding into the hallway from Declan’s open door.
Gunfire erupts from the TV in his room, followed by a string of shouted curses from Declan. Cocking my brow, I tip-toe down the hall and peek into his room, watching him play a video game from his bed.
He’s propped up on pillows and yelling something into his headset, with the cutest look of concentration on his face as he glares at his flat screen. It’s some kind of military/warzone game, and based on his reaction, his team’s not doing so hot.
I smirk and lean against the doorframe, right as Declan seems to notice me standing there. He presses a button on the controller, backing out of the game as he yanks off his headset. “Hey,” he says, a little breathless and—
Is he blushing?
A thrill shoots through me at the notion that I can make him blush and my lips twitch with the urge to laugh, but I tamp it down and nod to the TV. “Call of Duty?”
He glances down to the controller and headset. “Battlefield,” he says a little sheepishly as he places the equipment on the nightstand.
“Ah.” I cross the room and climb into his bed, leaning against the headboard like he is. “So is this all you’ve done today? Lounge around in bed and play Xbox?”
“No,” he says, feigning offense. “I took a nap this afternoon. And a shower.”
I knew about the nap—he was asleep when I came up to put the roast on—and I could’ve guessed as much about the shower. He smells just, unh, and he’s got actual clothes on compared to the boxer briefs I left him in this morning and found him in this afternoon.
Leaning my head back, I glance at him. His grin is infectious and I can’t help but return it. “I take it you’ve had a fun day, then.”
His smile softens as he plays with the ends of my hair. Why does that little touch seem so intimate? And why don’t I seem to mind it? “It’d have been better if you were here,” he murmurs.
His words never fail to disarm me, and sure enough here I am, sitting next to him while my system crashes and tries to reboot.
Make a joke. Play it off.
I let out a shaky breath and try to turn it into a laugh. “You know you’ve already gotten inside my pants, right? You don’t have to lay it on so thick anymore.”
Declan laughs, deep and throaty, as he clutches his stomach. I bite my lip and watch him, mesmerized by the sight and sound. How can someone who looks so hard and lethal be so playful and fun?
“I think I do have to lay it on this thick—at least if I want inside your pants a second time, and believe me, I do.”
My tongue darts out to lick my lips as I roll my eyes and smile. “What happened to just once?”
He shrugs. “Once with you just isn’t enough. I want more.”
“What makes you think I’ll give you more?”
“You will. You’ll make me work for it, sure, but you know what? I’m okay with that.” The corner of his mouth kicks up into a crooked smile. “I think I’m even looking forward to it.” Declan’s eyes skim my mouth. His smile fades, replaced with a look so heated, I feel myself start to melt under his stare. Cradling the side of my face, his thumb traces the curve of my lower lip. “I want to earn every touch you allow me, and I want to be the cause of every stuttered breath that leaves these lips. . .”
Right on cue, my mouth parts while my breathing hitches. I simply can’t function when he says things like this. Basic, involuntary things—like breathing and blinking—are just too much for me to handle when he throws this much charm my way.
Declan’s smile widens at my reaction, his dimples deepening as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “I love that sound. It’s my second favorite sound in the whole world.”
My eyes are locked on his as he leans in slowly, and despite my scrambled thoughts and the breath that’s caught in my throat, I somehow manage to ask, “What’s your first?”