When Sparks Fly

“It’s definitely okay with me.”

My chuckle fades and becomes a soft sigh as his lips part and his mouth closes over the puckered tip. His tongue sweeps in a slow, sensual circle, tasting me before he sucks gently. I exhale a shuddering breath as my nerve endings light up again, the sensation traveling down between my legs. He switches breasts, thumb and finger teasing the abandoned wet peak as he lavishes the same attention on the other one.

Declan braces his hands on the arms of my chair, lips skimming my neck, teeth nipping at my jaw. I tip my head in the opposite direction, opening for him as he slants his mouth over mine. I sink into the lazy kiss and let it coat me like warm chocolate syrup.

Eventually he releases my mouth and backs up only far enough that he can meet my gaze with an earnest one of his own. “I’m here for you whenever you need me, Avery, whatever you need me for.”

I shiver at his words, but don’t have the chance to respond because my phone pings with a message, breaking the heavy tension.

“That’s Harley.” Declan passes me the phone, and I quickly scan the message. “She’s going to be here in twenty minutes and I’m not even close to ready.”

“I’ll leave your nipples alone and help you get dressed.” He pushes to a stand and adjusts himself. I can see the outline of the ridge pressing against the blue material of his swim trunks. If we had more time, I’d offer to return the favor.

Declan helps me into my bra, adjusting the cups at least three times before he brings me my dress. My casted arm goes through first, then my working arm before he pulls it over my head and helps me smooth it down.

“Do you want me to blow-dry your hair for you while you work on this?” He makes a circular motion around his face.

I don’t have the time or the ability to do much with it on my own. “I can pull it up in a ponytail.”

“I can still dry it for you; there’s a bit of a chill this morning.”

I fully anticipate the hair drying experience to be something of a cluster, since I doubt he’s had much experience in this area, if any at all. But he’s surprisingly gentle and adept.

While he manages the hair dryer, I swipe a coat of mascara on my lashes, dust my lids in neutral shadow, and dab a little concealer under my eyes and across the bridge of my nose, hiding the faded remnants of the yellowed bruises.

“Okay, I need to know where you learned how to blow-dry hair, because that is not a skill set typically honed by any men other than stylists.”

Declan chuckles. “That’s a bit of a sexist stereotype, isn’t it?” He takes the rounded brush and slowly drags it down the length of my hair, the dryer following along.

“Based on all the pictures I’ve seen, you’ve never had long hair, so unless you secretly studied to be a stylist back in the day, I’m going to go ahead and say this is a skill set you’ve acquired for another reason.”

“When I was a kid, my great-grandmother lived next door to us. She had really long hair, like down to her butt, even though she was in her eighties. When I was really little, like preschool age, I used to go over there and hang out while she watched The Price Is Right.”

“Aww, that’s sweet.”

“Well, she used to give me these candies that were coated in powdered sugar. They were imported from England and whenever she got to the end of a tin, she’d let me eat all the powdered sugar at the bottom, so don’t give me too much credit.” His expression softens and his gaze takes on that faraway quality, as if he’s reliving those childhood memories. “I always went there when my parents were fighting, which was often. Anyway, when she was in her late eighties, she fell and sprained her wrist. You know how bad sprains can be and how long they can take to heal.”

I sure do. And so does Declan. We’ve both sustained a variety of minor injuries over the years. It’s part of the deal when you play a lot of sports, even if they’re recreational.

“My parents didn’t want the responsibility of helping her with her hair every day. She would brush it, then braid it, and pin it to the top of her head like a crown. It was part of her daily routine, and I hated the idea of her cutting off all of that hair. It was part of who she was. I started getting up extra early in the morning, so I could go over there and help her before I had to go to school.”