Down and Out(55)

I’m out of my mind with lust right now, and all my thoughts are focused on seeing and touching him like he just did with me. Anything past that, I haven’t really thought about. “There are other things we could do. . .”
Declan groans, his heart hammering against my chest. “If my cock comes out, that f*cker’s gonna find a way inside you, and it’s not gonna stop at that pretty mouth of yours. I know it and you know it.”
I sigh, hating that he’s right. And honestly, I’m a little shocked that he’s right. I’ve never had sex without a condom before, but the thought of having Declan slide inside me without one? It’s got me dripping wet and my hips subtly rocking beneath him, trying to find some kind of friction.
What has this boy done to me? Who am I?
His hair brushes my cheek as he places a quick kiss on my neck, then pushes away from me to retrieve my shorts and underwear. My head swims as I sit up and get redressed, watching Declan as he adjusts his erection.
“I feel bad now,” I say, hopping down onto the floor as I pull my shorts over my hips. “That’s twice I came and you didn’t.”
“You’ll make it up to me. Don’t worry.”
The smug smile on his face has me rolling my eyes, although I’m sure he’s right. Again. I can’t seem to keep my hands off him, and I can’t seem to keep his hands off me.
Oh, well. There are worse problems to have than a gorgeous man who somehow got it in his head that he’s staked some kind of ridiculous, primitive claim on you.
Looking back at the table, I frown when I see the small pile of clean towels that ended up on the floor. “I can’t believe we did this here. . . Oh, God, what if somebody heard us?” I ask, whipping around to face him.
Declan shrugs. “Hopefully Mike heard us.” He says his name like he’s some vile insect that Declan has to scrape off the bottom of his shoe.
“I’m serious,” I say, smacking his chest. “I don’t want any of the customers to know that we’re . . . you know.” Bending down, I pick up the towels and put them back on the table. “You’re my boss. It looks bad.”
“I promise you, nobody out there would care. Except for maybe Mike, but you’re gonna have to let him down anyway.”
Picking up a towel, I shoot him a glare as I start folding. “I was about to, right before you barged in here and started thumping your chest like some kind of caveman.”
“You were?”
I roll my eyes at the hopeful tone in his voice. “Of course. Mike just took me by surprise and I was trying to think of a polite way to tell him no.” My head tilts as I narrow my eyes. “What are you even doing here? You’re supposed to be resting.”
Declan blinks, his eyes widening. “Oh, shit, I forgot.” He grabs my hand and opens the door, leading me out into the empty hallway. “I brought you lunch.”
“You did?”
“Yep. I went to that burger place around the corner.”
My stomach rumbles as my face lights up. I’m suddenly ravenous. “Did you get me curly fries?”
Declan laces his fingers through mine and brings my hand up to his mouth, kissing the back. “You know it.”




Blue balls suck.




The next few days are brutal. Work seems to drag by without Declan, but then when we’re together, things feel strained.
He’s giving me time and space to think things through, but it’s not really helping any. Because any time we’re in the same room now, the sexual tension between us crackles and sparks so much that we might as well be playing “Ring Around the Rosie” with a giant lightning rod in the middle of an electrical storm. I miss the easy back and forth, when our feelings were still our own and every look wasn’t heavy with meaning and intent.
But Declan’s right. There’s no going back to that time. I just don’t know how we move forward now.
The front door to Declan’s apartment swings open as I walk in, weary after a long day at work. These double shifts are running me ragged, but somebody has to be at the gym while it’s open, and I’d fought Declan on letting that somebody be me instead of him. He needs the rest and I need the pay. It’s win/win. But he’s returning to work tomorrow, and I have to admit, my tired body’s a little relieved.
Declan looks up at me from the couch. He’s on the phone and smiles at me as I close the door.
“Yeah, man, thanks again,” he says to whoever’s on the other end. “I’ll see you later.”
He hangs up as I plop down next to him, setting my keys on the coffee table, next to a big-ass yellow envelope lying on the thick, dark wood.
“That was Marcus,” he says, sitting up from leaning back against the armrest. His movements are still a little slow, but at least he isn’t grimacing in pain anymore. “My match with Kerrigan’s officially been rescheduled.”
Shock crosses my face. “That’s awesome,” I splutter. “When is it?”
“Third Friday in December. I gotta wait for these ribs to heal before I get back in the ring.”
Relief sweeps over me. I hadn’t said anything, but I was afraid he’d try to get back to fighting before his body’s ready. “So your other fights. . .?”
“Have been pushed back.”
“Okay. Good.”
He smiles, like he senses what I’m worried about. “You don’t have to worry, Kitten. I’m not gonna do anything stupid.”
My brows lift in amusement. “Says the guy who told his female employee just how much he wants to f*ck her.” I tsk and bite my lip, trying not to grin as I shake my head. “If I were a litigious person, you’d be the one getting f*cked, Mr. Whitmore.”