Hush (Black Lotus #3)(28)

“You’re amazing.”

He takes my hands from his face, pins them down on the countertop beneath his, and moves in to kiss my neck. The whiskers of his freshly trimmed stubble tickle me, and I tilt my head to close my neck off to him. Declan disapproves with a groan and forces my neck open with his head. He continues to kiss and nip, and every now and then sinks his teeth into the sensitive skin. I drop my head back with a pleasurable moan and widen my legs to invite him in closer, but before he presses against me, his phone rings.

“Ignore it,” I pant, needing more of him.

“I can’t, Davina is here.”

He steps away from me and takes the call. Sliding off the counter, I clench my thighs together to help relieve the pulsing ache of arousal that’s built up inside of me thanks to Declan.

“You’re a tease,” I say with a nudge to his ribs when I walk past him. “I’m going to get you back for that.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No. It’s a guarantee.”

Soon there’s a knock on the door, and when Declan opens it to let her in, the raven-haired “friend” greets him with a much too affectionate hug. They exchange pleasantries before Declan holds his hand out to me, saying to Davina, “You remember Elizabeth?”

“It’s so good to see you again.” Her smile is too wide as she hands me a bottle of wine. “I figured you could use this since you’re living with the most uptight man I know.”

“That’s nice,” Declan says in mock umbrage as he heads back into the kitchen, leaving me alone with her in the living room.

“Thank you,” I tell her, shoving my insecurities away for fictitious assurance. “It’s extremely thoughtful.”

I used to wine and dine the upper crust of Chicago for the satisfaction of Bennett, so Davina should be as easy as selling age-defying pigeon shit facials to haut monde housewives.

“Please, have a seat. Should I pour you a glass?” I ask, holding up the bottle.

“I never turn down wine.”

She’s much too perky and much too happy, or maybe it’s just me being much too judgy. Either way, I grit my teeth as I walk to the kitchen and open the bottle of Sangiovese.

“Declan,” she says as she walks over and takes a seat at the island bar. “How long do we have to wait for your new property?”

“Years. We’re building from the ground up,” he tells her. “I was in meetings all day today going over budgets and schedules. We haven’t even started on the design yet.”

“How long do you plan on staying in London?”

“Until completion. Same as the Chicago property. So, three, maybe four years.”

I hand her the glass of wine and she holds it up. “Well, cheers to new neighbors,” and then she takes a sip. “So, Elizabeth, I know you can’t be from around here with that accent of yours.”

“No, I’m from the States. Illinois,” I tell her.

“Where Declan was? Chicago?”

“Yes.”

“So indulge me. Tell me how you two met.”

As soon as the question is out of her mouth, I feel the tingling in my palms, but I don’t stress for more than a second when Declan begins to answer.

“She was at the grand opening of Lotus,” he says, plating the food. “I spotted her immediately in this long navy dress. It didn’t take me long to introduce myself, and lucky for me, she needed a place to throw an event, and I offered her the space at the hotel.” He picks up two of the plates, adding, “The rest is history.”

I pick up the third plate and follow him into the dining room. We all sit to eat, and I listen while the two of them share a few funny stories from their childhood with me. I smile and laugh at all the right places in conversation as I tame the covetousness I feel that she’s had more time and shares more memories with Declan than I do. She has a deep-rooted past with him, knows his annoying habits I haven’t caught on to yet, and can practically finish his sentences for him.

“Elizabeth,” she addresses, exchanging her attention from Declan to me. “What is it that you do?”

I swallow the sip of wine I just took, then clarify, “That I do?”

“Do you work?”

“Oh, um, no. Not at the moment.” Not ever, unless helping my brother weigh out and bag the drugs he and Matt used to sell on the streets counts as a job. I feel like such a fraud sitting here with her. As if this is my standard of living.

“That’s always nice. Have you been to London before?”

“No. This is the first time I’ve been out of the States, believe it or not.”

“I have a lot to show you then,” she says excitedly. “Have you done any exploring yet?”

“Not if you consider walking across the street to Harrods,” I joke.

“Declan,” she scolds. “Why are you keeping this woman locked up? Take her out!”

“Damn! Why are you jumping my case?” he says, charading indignation the way Pike and I often would with each other—the way most brothers and sisters probably do. “We’ve been busy trying to settle in.”

Turning back to me she continues, “Well, you must let me show you around one day next week. I have a few client meetings, but other than that, I’m free.”