Down and Out(79)

“Put me down!” I squeal, beating against him with renewed vigor.
Declan swats my ass. “I’d stop fighting if I were you. You’re only making that napkin of yours ride higher. . . Actually, on second thought, keep going. I can almost see what panties you’re wearing. Or not wearing,” he says, lifting up the hem of my skirt.
I smack him as hard as I can and he chuckles. “Ooh, you’re wearing my favorite pair,” he says.
I’d completely forgotten what pair of underwear I put on, but now that I think about it, yep, I’m inadvertently wearing his favorite pair. The tiny black lace number.
Son of a bitch.
He takes his time putting me down when we get to the bottom of the stairs, letting his hands run up the backs of my thighs and curve over my ass before settling on my hips. “Are they for me?”
(Cue record screeching to a halt.)
Did he seriously just ask me that? After the way he ended our last sexual encounter? Really?
I ignore the way my body’s responding to being in his arms and the feeling of his hard, muscular body pressed against me. I don’t care if my nipples are stiff peaks beneath the soft, stretchy fabric of my dress, or that my core’s tightening with need, because the cocky smile hitching up the side of his mouth right now?
It makes me want to do mean, violent things.
I can’t believe he has the balls to ask me that!
Pushing his hands away from me, I tug down my skirt to a level that wouldn’t be considered indecent exposure. “No. They’re for some other lucky * I meet tonight.”
I freeze as soon as the words leave my mouth.
Shit. Where’s the rewind button when you need one? I was just pissed at him and I lashed out. I didn’t mean it, not really. How could I, when I know that no one could ever compare to Declan?
A flicker of pain flashes across his face, but it’s gone and replaced with an ice cold look in the blink of an eye. “Well, we’d better go. Wouldn’t want to keep Prince Charming waiting, now would we?”
He walks around me and I turn, helplessly floundering for the words to make this right. I’m not sure there are any. Panic fizzes through me. “Declan—”
Opening the passenger door to his car, he gestures grandly. “Your chariot awaits.” His hard, unflinching eyes make my throat tighten.
Goddamn it, why does this hurt so much? I know I f*cked up, but it almost feels like I cut myself right along with him.
I swallow the dry ache, ignoring the tiny stabbing sensations in my eyes. “Stop.”
“Oh, believe me, I will. I’m done.” His jaw clenches as he walks around to the driver’s side and throws open the door.
And there you have it. How to successfully push people away in less than three minutes. That’s gotta be a new record for me.
The car roars to life as I stand in the empty parking lot, shivering as another gust blows past. Reaching down, I take off my shoes and climb in the car, closing the door behind me. I shiver again as we pull onto the street.
I think it’s chillier in here than it is outside.

The ride over to the Dormandy Hotel doesn’t disappoint. It’s every bit as awkward and tense as I expect. Declan’s jaw remains a rigid line the whole time.
At least, I imagine it does, since I can’t bring myself to actually look at him. I sense anger rolling off him in waves, and I’m afraid of doing something to set him off. Physically, I know he won’t hurt me. Emotionally, though . . . well, he’s the only one who can.
So I sit and stare out my window, counting down the seconds until we’re free of this confined space and praying I don’t do anything to incur his wrath. It’ll be easy enough to keep our distance once we’re there, and then I guess I’ll hitch a ride home from Macy. She took the night off from servicing the party to attend as my plus one.
Now if I could only figure out how to get my keys back from Declan without actually having to talk to him. . .
I’m MacGyvering a plan involving a fishing pole, my keys, and the air ducts when we pull up to the hotel. Declan makes no move to get out, so I pause with my hand on the door. “You’re not coming?”
The faintest shake of his head has my heart crumbling to pieces. Tonight’s a big night for me, and I really thought he’d be there for it. I can’t help but wonder if it’s because of what I said, or if he never planned on coming.
“I’ll get a ride home from Macy,” I say quietly. “And for the record, I didn’t mean what I said. There’s not— I mean, I haven’t—” I exhale softly and chew on my lip. “There’s been no one else.” I risk another glance at him, watching his expression soften as he stares out the windshield. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it.”
I climb out before he has a chance to say anything, because I’m afraid he won’t.






“So. . .” Blake puffs out his cheeks as he plops down in Pops’ barcalounger. “Why can’t we go out, again?”
I shrug and roll the longneck beer bottle between my fingers. “Don’t feel like it.” Apparently all I feel like doing is sulking on my dead grandparents’ couch and getting drunk with my brother while I think about Savannah. That’s healthy, right?
Stifling a sigh, I take another drink.
What the hell was her problem? I know things have been strained, but that was just . . . mean. Uncalled for. I also know I can be an ass, and I was working my way up to an apology for the last few weeks.
I miss her, and if all I can get is her half-assed attempt at affection and a relationship, then I’ll take it. I’m done trying to push her for more, because it’s clearly not going to happen. So I’ll take what I can get and I’ll take it with a smile.