“Yeah, you are. We should go out and celebrate.” Reagan stopped jumping and started nibbling on her lower lip. “Tonight. Let’s get a bottle of champagne and drink to your good fortune.”
“I, uh, already have plans. But we can celebrate tomorrow with breakfast before we fly home,” Natalie suggested. “What do you think?”
“Sounds good.” Her friend was being weird. Evasive. As if she was trying to hide exactly who she was hanging out with. “Where’s Andrea?”
“She met some guy last night. Last I saw her, she was lip-locked with him in a dark corner at the party. She texted me this morning, letting me know she was okay,” Natalie explained.
“Okay good. Well, congrats again,” Reagan said with a nervous laugh. “Have fun tonight.”
“You too, sweet cheeks.” Natalie ended the call before Reagan could say another word, and she set the phone back on the coffee table, turning to see Declan watching her with an expectant expression on his face, standing behind the table laden with food. He’d found two chairs and set them at the table. So domesticated and cute, she could hardly stand it.
“What happened to your friend?” he asked conversationally.
“She won twenty-five thousand dollars.” Reagan shook her head, glancing around the room to see if she could spot the belt that went with her robe. How could she sit and eat breakfast with her robe hanging open?
“That’s awesome. Good for her. Is she okay with you being here with me?” When Reagan took a while to answer, he asked, “Are you okay?”
She met his gaze, saw the worry there and the concern. How could he doubt that she wasn’t okay with being with him? More like she should be asking him if he was fine with her being here with him. There were probably a hundred things he needed to do. Or wanted to do.
Hell, she didn’t know. This entire morning after thing was super confusing.
“She’s fine. Distracted by someone else, she won’t tell me who,” Reagan said, going to the table and gazing down at the contents that filled it. “Did you order the entire breakfast menu or what?”
“Maybe. I didn’t know what you might like, so I got it all.” He shrugged, looking the slightest bit embarrassed. It was a good look for him, as were all the looks she’d seen him wear. “And you didn’t answer my question.”
“I’m more than okay being here with you,” she said softly, loving the way his expression seemed to ease into relief, like he’d been tensely waiting for her answer. Like he cared. “I just hope you’re okay with it.”
“Beyond okay with it.” He went to the chair she stood closest to and pulled it out for her. “Have a seat. I’m sure you’re starving.”
“I need to find my belt first,” she said, glancing around the floor. God, where did it go? “I can’t eat breakfast with my robe open.”
“Why not?” The grin he sent her was wicked. “You’ll drive me crazy, but I think it’ll be worth it. Or you could…I don’t know, eat breakfast completely naked.”
She laughed and sat, letting him scoot the chair in for her. “No way. I might drop a piece of bacon on me or something, and that could get awkward.”
Chuckling, he sat in his chair, which was so close to hers thei
r arms almost bumped. “Just leave the robe open, then. Tease me,” he said, his deep voice washing over her, making her warm. Making her weak.
“Okay,” she said. When he spoke to her in that voice, she’d do just about anything for him.
Anything.
Chapter Six
As he sat across from Reagan, Declan knew without a doubt he was in all sorts of trouble. Trouble with a capital T. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her, going all warm and gooey inside—warm and gooey? What the ever loving fuck?—when she laughed. Going hard as steel when she reached out a foot and brushed it against his leg.
Her foot on his leg, that was all it took and he wanted her again. He wanted her always. He’d had her any which way since last night and it wasn’t enough. He told himself when she was in the shower he’d lay off. Give her a moment to recover and make her want him more. Make him want her more. Then what did he do?
The moment he saw her in that robe, her hair wet and slicked back, her skin rosy from the warm water, looking sexy and beautiful and fucking edible? He’d knelt before her like he worshiped her body and licked her into yet another orgasm. All while the room service kid waited in the hall to deliver their food.
He restrained himself during breakfast, letting her eat, and he tried his best to eat as well, but he quickly lost his appetite. His appetite for food, he should stress. Watching her as she nibbled on a strawberry, the robe gaping open and giving him a view of his favorite spot on her body, the rarely touched valley of soft, creamy skin between her full breasts, drove him wild with lust. He told himself to get over it.
That didn’t work out so well.
After they ate, he convinced her they needed a nap, so they went back to bed. Where they proceeded to go at each other like wild, crazed teenagers ruled by their hormones. Which he sort of felt like when he was alone with Reagan—ruled by his hormones, by his cock. Owned by his body and the ever-growing need to have her, to possess her, to make her his.
Mine. The word pounded an incessant beat in his head, in his blood, in his soul. Stupid. Crazy. He’d lusted for plenty of women and never went nuts like he did for Reagan. Though it was more than just her body that drove him insane. He also liked her. Liked talking to her, liked learning about her, liked when she offered her opinion. She was smart, she had personality, she had a mouth and wasn’t afraid to use it.