Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

QUINN

Straddling Declan'swaist,with his arms wrapped tightly around me, he kisses my lips and grinds his hips against me. I whimper into his mouth as my stomach angrily growls with hunger.

"I guess we can't stay in this bed forever," Declan speaks through our kiss as he rolls me onto my back. "I'll go and start some breakfast."

After finding his boxer briefs on the floor, Declan disappears down the hall. Dishes clatter in the kitchen as I slide from bed and throw on his discarded T-shirt. I find him whisking a bowl of eggs beside the stove when I enter the kitchen, immediately catching his eyes.

"You look good in my clothes," he confesses, putting the bowl of beaten eggs on the counter. Gripping my waist, he hoists me onto thecounter,and I gasp when the cool marble hits my bare ass and thighs. He lightly grips the shirt and gives it a little tug. "But you'd look better out of it."

"Dec, I need to eat."

"So do I," he growls, parting my knees and kissing up my thighs. I'm about to protest again when his tongue licks over my clit. As he fervently licks over my sensitive nub, he slides a hand under my shirt. He gives a slight twist of my nipple before palming my breast and gently pushing me onto my back. With the cold countertop on my back and my thighs resting on his shoulders, I grind against his tongue as he quickly brings me to the edge.

"Yes… Right there… You're going…to make me come," I pant, lacing my fingers into his hair and moving him to exactly where I need him. Electricity shoots through me. I come hard and breathlessly scream, "Oh fuck!"

"Oh, fuck!" Layla's startled voice echoes my cry, and I snap my eyes open to find her standing with her hands clamped over Fiona's eyes. I shove Declan from between my thighs and scrabble at the T-shirt to pull it back over my body.

"What's with all the screaming?" Jorge walks into the room with a bag of groceries as Declan wipes me from his face with the back of his hand. "Oh, fuck."

"We don't say that!" Fiona asserts from beneath the blindfold of Layla's hands.

I want to die now.

"I'm glad to see the two of you are feeling better," Layla chirps as shebegins to usherFiona out of the room.

Jorge snickers as he follows them. "Sometimes you just need a littleVitaminD."

Declan steps to the counter and cups my face before placing a soft kiss on my lips and helping me to my feet. "Go get dressed while I make your eggs. Maybe put on some panties this time," he instructs with a coy smile.

Idon't hesitate todo as I'm told, eagerly looking forward to hiding in my room for a few minutes while I wait for my face to no longer be the same shade as a firetruck. After quickly cleaning up with a washcloth, I throw on a pair of leggings and a baggy shirt and head back into the living room to face the music.

Declan carries the plate of eggs to me, seemingly uncaring that he's semi-hard in his boxer briefs in front of Layla and Jorge. "Eatup." He hands me the plate and places a kiss on my forehead. "I've got to leave. Tristan called; he needs me over at the club."

"Girl, you better spill it," Jorge demands from the couch the second Declan disappears down the hall.

"Seriously!" Layla exclaims. "How didn't you tell me?"

"There wasn't anything totell." I shovel eggs into my mouth to bide myself some time.

Declan returns from getting dressed and presses a kiss atop my head before whispering, "I wasn't done, and I do plan to pick up where we left off later tonight."

Layla and Jorge's eyes stay locked on me as Declan crosses the room to say goodbye to Fiona, only giving him attention as they watch him walk toward the door to leave.

"Nothing to tell?" Jorgescoffs,"That didn't look like nothing. And that gorgeous man had his whole face buried in your?—"

Layla smacks his arm to silence him as her eyes dart to Fiona who is laying on the floor, coloring quietly. "So, this is new?"

"Yes," I answer between bites of food. "I mean, sort of."

Fuck, why did I say that?

"What do you mean, sort of?" Layla asks.

Iproceed to spendthe next couple of hours giving them both theplay-by-playof my sordid history with Declan, the two of them hanging on every word as though they're enthralled in a soap opera. After answering a barrage of questions, Layla and Jorge stay a little longer to watch Fiona while I take a much-needed shower to clean up.

My thoughts wander through the past twenty-four hours. So much has happened—it feels surreal. Too good to be true, even.

Don't ruin this for yourself, Quinn .