Hotel O

Taking a deep breath, I shrug it off and open the door, determined not to let my foolish heart believe in the lies it fabricated. He was only looking out for both our interests, nothing else.

As Declan sets down plates filled with warm pancakes on the table in the middle of the room, I look around his spacious apartment. The bottom half of the walls have warm wood paneling, and most of the furniture looks like it’s made from a dark mahogany too. It contrasts nicely with the top of the white painted walls and ceiling, and, of course, the fur rug in front of the long beige couch.

“What do you think?” he asks as he pulls up a chair for me. “Hungry?”

“Oh …” I smile, sitting down on the chair. “You’ve made it cozy in here.”

“Thanks,” he says, placing forks and knives on the table too. “Did the decorating myself. I’m quite proud of it, if I say so myself.”

“I can imagine,” I say while he puts down two cups of coffee.

As he sits down opposite me with a smirk on his face, there’s an awkward silence between us. It makes my skin crawl, that’s how awkward it is.

“Well … eat up!” he says.

“Right.” I pick up my fork and knife and cut off a piece, shoving it into my mouth because I’m famished. But I’m not prepared for how good this tastes … like, oh my God, I want to lick up my plate kinda good.

“Like it?” he asks, cocking his head as he cuts into his pancakes.

I nod profusely, shoving more into my mouth. “Amazing. How did you learn to cook like this?”

He laughs. “It’s one of the only things I can do right.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” I say. “There are plenty of other things you’re great at. Right?”

“Like what?” He raises a brow.

I mull it over for a while, but then all I can think of is how amazing he is with his hands … his lips … his dick … and then my entire face heats again. “Well, I can think of something,” I mumble, trying not to make it sound even weirder than it already is.

He lets out a short laugh. “Of course, you can, filthy kitten.”

That word makes my heart flutter. I don’t know why, but every time I hear it, I’m smiling from ear to ear.

“Speaking of which,” he says, picking up his cup of coffee, “tell me what you thought about last night.”

I swallow down a piece of pancake that felt like it got stuck in my throat, then I wash it down with some coffee before answering. “Hmm … interesting.”

“Just interesting?” He slurps his coffee.

“I liked it.”

“Which part?”

Well, this is starting to feel like a job interview.

“Everything.”

He takes a casual bite of his pancakes and swallows it before continuing. “Really? Name some specifics.”

I gaze up at him. Are we really going to do this? He’s not averting his eyes, though, so I guess we are. “You. Me. That room. That man.”

“What about the part when you were tied and used by several men?” He holds his cup of coffee with a certain aloofness, but there’s a definite serious undertone in his voice.

I can barely swallow down the last bit of pancake I put in my mouth. “I don’t … remember much.”

“Lie.”

Goddammit. Why does he see through me so easily?

I lean back and fold my arms. “What do you want me to say?”

“Why did you call out for me?” he asks firmly.

“Because I thought you’d be there,” I reply.

“I never said that.”

“I just assumed,” I say.

He narrows his eyes. “You assumed wrong.”

“Sorry.” I make a face. “I didn’t know you’d get mad.”

“I’m not,” he says, blinking a couple of times while blowing out a breath. “You wanted this. You signed the agreement.”

I nod. “And I was going to go through with it.”

He plants his coffee down with a little bit too much effort, and it makes me jolt up from my chair. “You were out of energy and couldn’t take any more of it.”

“I could’ve handled it.”

“No, you couldn’t.” His stern voice irks me.

I frown. “You don’t know that.”

“You collapsed in my arms like a used fuck doll. I carried you all the way out to my fucking office and then drove you back home myself.”

I stare at him in disbelief. Did he really just say he carried me out in his arms?

“But … why?” I ask.

He clenches his jaw and looks away. “Because you … called my name.”

“You could’ve just given me encouraging words and let me continue.”

“No, I couldn’t,” he says through gritted teeth. “You didn’t see what I saw.”

“And what did you see?” I ask, raising a brow.

He sucks in a deep breath and looks away again. “A girl in desperate need …”

“Oh …” I laugh out loud and shake my head. “You wanted to be the savior.” I drink the last bit of my coffee. “Well, tell you what … I don’t need a savior.”