16. Declan

Holding Miranda's hand,looking into her smiling face and happy gray eyes, with our friends cheering us on, is like a glimpse into the future I desperately dream of. I can picture us at the altar, exchanging vows to love and honor each other until death do we part, our family and friends watching. It's what I've wanted since I was a teenager and realized she is more to me than my sister's best friend. She is my world. I kept my promise not to pursue her until she finished college, and I didn't interfere with her going to New Zealand. I trusted the universe would bring us back together when it was the right time. That time is now. She's meant to be mine, and tonight is the night to tell her how I feel. The new year is going to be the start of our forever.

My wolf wants to howl watching Carter and Miranda dance to a fast song. It's like a mishmash of a jive and a swing dance. They dance well together. I'm sure doing something choreographed would be incredible if this is what they can improvise. I know she's a wonderful dancer. We've danced together countless times. Most of it was as kids when my mother was teaching us all how to ballroom dance. We can all do the basics. My sister Sophie and her twin, Ian, stuck with it to make it a profession and follow in Ma's dance shoes.

I approach the stand and slip the bandleader some cash to play a request. I've been patient. It's my turn to dance with Miranda and I don't plan on ever letting her go.

Their song ends and I approach them.

"My turn," I say, extending my hand. The tingle when Miranda takes it races up my arm directly to my heart.

"Hi," she says when I take her into my arms as the first strands of the band's cover version of "Perfect" by Ed Sheeran come from the stage.

"Hello." I lower my head to place my lips at her ear. I can do the fancy spins and turns Carter did, but all I want to do is hold Miranda close to me and relish her body against mine. Humming along with the song as we sway, I echo the line about her looking beautiful tonight. She shivers, but the way her breath hitches tells me it's not from being cold.

"It's like this song is about us," I murmur.

"Wha…what?" She stutters, and I think she's holding her breath.

Okay, Declan, it's now or never.

"We were kids torn apart, but now we're together again."

Her hair brushes my cheek as she nods.

"And I love you."

Her breath comes out in a whoosh that tickles my neck. She turns her head, and we are face to face, inches apart.

"You do?" she whispers. Her beautiful gray eyes are wide in shock.

"I do." I do. I can't wait to say those words for real someday, to bind our lives together like our fates already are. "I have loved you for years. I've been waiting for you to come back to me."

Her grin splits open wide, and her hands on my shoulders tighten, as if she never wants to let me go. "I love you too. I always have."

We stare at each other. Holy shit. I lower my face and finally, finally, kiss her. This is something I've been wanting to do for almost a decade. Her lips are soft against mine and she is trembling. Or maybe I am. I know it's an innocent peck to anyone else, no tongue, no roaming hands, but to me this is a fantasy come true. I could do this for the rest of the night—the rest of my life—but I don't want an audience.

Reluctantly, I pull back. My brain is so muddled, I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. "Stay or go?"

"Go," she says.

"Upstairs or home?"

"Home."

"Need anything?"

"You."

Okay. Taking her hand, I lead us from the ballroom. It's minutes before midnight and I already know the coming year is going to be the best ever.

"What about your phone or a coat?"

"My gown has pockets." She blushes when she glances up at me as I push the button for the elevator. "And I was hoping you'd keep me warm."

The doors open and it's empty. We have it all to ourselves. I hit the button to take us to where we cross to the parking garage.

I step close to her and put my hand on the wall above her head and lean down.

"I can do that. It will be my pleasure."

Her blush deepens. "Mine too."

As my watch ticks to midnight, I start the countdown. "Five…four…three…two…" I lower my head and Miranda whispers, "One."

Our lips meet, and this kiss is even better than the first one. We have around fifteen floors to go, and I use the time to deepen the kiss. Miranda opens her lips and I slip my tongue in. I can taste the champagne she drank earlier, but that's not what is making me lightheaded. Neither is the descent of the elevator. It's about being able to finally express my emotions to her and not keep the fact I love her a secret. I can't believe she loves me too. This is more than I dreamed of ever having.

As the elevator slows its descent, we break our kiss and grin at each other. Miranda reaches up to rub her thumb across my bottom lip. I take a nip, causing her to giggle.

"Happy New Year," she whispers.

"It will be," I promise.

The doors open and we make our way through the crowd in party hats, all cheering and hugging. Paired with the noise of the slot machines, it's a cacophony. Stopping, I slip out of my suit jacket and drape it over Miranda's shoulders before we go through the doors to the parking garage. She holds it in one place with one hand as I take her other again.

"You smell good." She rubs her cheek against the lapel and breathes deeply.

As a shifter, I know how important scent is, especially your mate's scent. It's imprinted on your brain. Knowing Miranda finds my scent pleasing does strange things to me. Wonderful things.

I unlock the passenger door to my Suburban and help her into it. I make sure her skirt is fully inside before closing the door.

"Can I flip up the console to make it a bench seat?" she asks when I get behind the wheel.

"Miranda, love, you need to stay on your side because if you're next to me, I'm pulling off on the side of the road and we're making out like a pair of teenagers."

"And…?"

I huff out a laugh. "And I'm almost seven feet tall and it's January. I want to be alone with you where we can be comfortable and warm. No worrying about frostbite or being interrupted."

"No one is coming home?"

I shake my head. "I think everyone has rooms."

I don't know what we talk about—if we even talk at all. What I remember of our drive home is holding her hand, giving it brief little kisses at stoplights, and stealing glances. Pulling up to the barn, I shut off the engine and we sit there in the darkness. I'm not sure what to do. Of course, I know what I'd like to do. I've been fantasizing about this for years. But will the fantasy live up to the reality? Is what I want the same as what Miranda wants?

"Are we going to go in?" Miranda asks.

Giving what I hope sounds like a suave chuckle and not the sign of nervousness it is, I say, "Yeah, I guess we should. Wait there. I'll come around and help you down."

After helping her down from the passenger seat, we stand in the light of the almost full moon. I brush my knuckles along her cheek.

"You are so beautiful," I whisper.

On a sigh, she murmurs, "Kiss me."

And I do. There, in the moonlight, I kiss her with all the love, devotion, and passion I've been feeling for her for years but haven't been able to express. Our lips cling, our tongues dance, and our bodies press against each other. When she shivers, I know it is partly in reaction to our kiss, but it's also below freezing outside, and she must be cold.

"Let's get you inside and warmed up." I take her hand and lead her to the entry door leading upstairs. The moonlight is enough to illuminate the stairs through the window at the landing, so I don't bother turning on any lights. Hand in hand, we enter our apartment, and I stop, unsure what to do next.

"Do you want something to drink? Are you hungry?" I ask.

"No, we ate at the party, remember?"She gives my hand a light squeeze. "Are you okay?"

I run my free hand through my hair. "Yeah, I'm fine." I should tell her the truth. Sighing, I admit, "Honestly, I don't know what I'm doing. I've never done this before."

Tilting her head, she eyes me curiously.

"What do you mean? You've never brought anyone here before?"

"Yeah, but I mean any of this." I gesture between the two of us. "Our kiss on the dance floor? That was my first one. You're the only woman I've wanted to kiss. I was waiting for you. I know you must have kissed other guys and done stuff. It's just…you're it for me."

At first, I think the way her eyes are glistening is a trick of the moonlight. But then a tear slips down her cheek and I know it's not. She reaches up and places a hand against my cheek and gives me a sweet smile with her trembling lips.

"It was my first too. I haven't been attracted to anyone else like that. Haven't wanted anyone other than you to touch me. I wasn't waiting—I didn't think you'd feel the way I do, but I wasn't looking because there was no point since no one else is you."

"So, we're the blind leading the clueless?" I ask.

She giggles. "We aren't clueless, we're…inexperienced. We'll figure it out. The rest of the human race has, no reason we can't."

"We can wait. I don't want to rush you," I say. I'll die, but I'll do it.

"Wait for what?"

"Until we're married."

Her breath catches. "Married?"

I kiss her gently and brush her hair behind her ear. "Miranda, I want to marry you, have babies with you, make a home with you. I want everything with you."

"That's all I've wanted, too," she says, with more tears streaming from her eyes. "I want to belong somewhere and be with someone who loves me and won't send me away. I want that someone to be you."

My heart breaks. I hate what her parents have done to her.

"Please, Declan, make me yours." She slips my jacket off her shoulders, and she glows in the soft moonlight.

I've never seen a greater temptation. "I…I wasn't planning on this. I don't have any condoms."

I could go looking for some, I live with a bunch of men—and Brick. Someone must have some in their nightstand or in the bathroom, but I don't want to invade their privacy like that.

"We're both clean, obviously. I've been on the pill for years to keep my cycle regular. We should be okay. And if we aren't, well, then we have a head start on a family?"

My heart skips a beat at the thought of Miranda carrying my child. Resting my hand on her bump the way Logan does with Daphne. Having the connection of creating a person with the woman I love. I'm trying to restrain myself from wishing her pill doesn't work. We have years to work on that. I can be patient.

"Are you sure? I don't want this to be something you regret."

"I will never regret loving you, Declan."

At her declaration, I scoop her into my arms and carry her into my bedroom, bridal-style. In a way, this feels like our wedding night. In my heart, I've already vowed to love, honor, cherish, and protect her until the day I die and for eternity beyond that. We are married in our hearts. A piece of paper and the blessing of a parish priest isn't going to change anything.

She's standing before me in her gorgeous gown. Ever since her prom I fantasized about unzipping it and watching it fall to the floor and now that dream is coming true. As she loosens my tie, I slowly lower the zipper on the back of her dress and watch as the bodice sags. I press a kiss where her shoulder meets her neck as the strap slides down. Her pulse is hammering against my lips, and I give a tiny nip eliciting a gasp from her. I soothe the spot with my tongue. My wolf is begging for me to give her a claiming mark the way it was done generations ago, but we don't do that anymore. The thought of marring Miranda's beautiful ivory skin permanently is something I can't do, no matter what my wolf wants.

Her nimble fingers are undoing the buttons of my shirt and pulling it from the waistband of my slacks as I run my hands along her shoulders to finish pushing the straps down. I was expecting a gentle "whoosh" of satin, instead there was a definite thud.

"Crap, your phone. I forgot. I'm sorry."

I bend to get it and get a gander at the black lace panties covering her most intimate area. I forget what I'm doing and stare at the scrap of lace and breathe deeply. I can smell her arousal, and it's driving me crazy.

Tearing my gaze away from her panties, I fish her phone out of the pocket of her dress, so it doesn't get stepped on and stretch to put it on my dresser. I do the same with my phone. Everyone I want to talk to is right here. Miranda rests her hands on my shoulders and steps out of her gown, kicking it to the side with a strappy silver high-heeled shoe. It's a piece of footwear, but I damn near swallow my tongue seeing it on her foot. I never thought I had a foot fetish, but seeing the strap buckled around her dainty ankle makes me want to go for a swim in the pond like Mr. Darcy did in the Pride and Prejudice movie we watched one rainy weekend at Cornell.

My eyes travel from the delicate rhinestone buckle, up her toned, trim legs, past the triangle of temptation, her flat abdomen, to firm breasts I consider a perfect mouthful encased in matching black lace and stop at where her hand is nervously fingering the four-leaf clover pendant I gave her.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

She nods emphatically. "Aye." The lilt sneaking into her one little word makes me smile. That's my Daisy girl. "But you're wearing too many clothes."

"Well, I guess we have to fix that, don't we?"

I reach to unbuckle her shoes and hold her hips to keep her steady as she steps out of them. Without the extra inches, I'm now level with her belly button and press a kiss there, too. The way her skin breaks out in goosebumps gives me a thrill of satisfaction knowing I am affecting her as much as she's affecting me. I untie my shoes and take them off, along with my socks. She's so delicate, standing in front of me in her bra and panties. She's not short, not like Kendall or my sister, but I'm tall enough that the top of her head doesn't pass my shoulder. For a moment, a flash of panic flows through me that I'm too big and I'm somehow going to hurt her or crush her.

Thankfully, sanity asserts itself and reminds me of the couples I know with significant size differences—my parents, Bedard and Kendall, dozens of basketball and football players. It will be okay.

I straighten and remove the emerald cufflinks from my wrists and add them to the pile on the dresser, along with my watch. Miranda slides her hands up my chest to my shoulders to push my shirt off. I help by shaking my arms and she grabs one sleeve. As she pulls it off my left arm, the moonlight hits my wrist.

"Hey, what's this?" Miranda grabs my arm and angles it toward the window. "You have a tattoo?"

"Um…yeah." I don't know if she'll be able to tell what it is. Maybe she will think it's a random blob.

Leaning in to study it, she turns her head one way and then the other.

"Is it a daisy?" she asks.

"Aye."

She shoots me a grin, but her eyes glisten as she rubs her thumb gently over the tattoo. "I love it when you talk Irish to me."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah."

I murmur some phrases like, "I love you, I think you're beautiful, and I can't wait to make love to you," in Gaelic as I kiss a spot under her ear, making her whimper. I continue with kisses on her shoulder and drag her bra strap with my teeth. Bra. Yeah. We gotta get rid of that. I reach behind her for the clasp to set her lovely breasts free. I may not have experience, but I know the basic mechanics of how a bra works. There's supposed to be a clasp there.

"Wait. Hold on," Miranda says, stepping out of my arms.

My stomach sinks. I'm screwing this all up and pushing her too far, too fast.

"It's a front clasp." She reaches up and flicks open the clasp. The two sides part, and I swear I hear angels sing as her creamy mounds are exposed for my gaze. They are perfect, firm and high. Not big but proportionate to her figure.

"Wow." I shut my eyes with a groan. Way to be articulate, you idiot.

Her giggle has my eyes popping back open. She's rocking from foot to foot and about to cross her arms and hide this beautiful sight from my view. We can't have that.

"Hey, no hiding." I reach out and gently grasp her hands, pulling her against me. Her nipples are hard as she nestles against my chest. I love being skin to skin with her.

She's trembling.

"Miranda, my love, are you okay? We can slow down or stop. I don't want you to feel rushed or do anything you want to do. We go at your pace."

"If that's the case, Declan, then why are we standing here and why do you still have pants on?"

I chuckle and undo my belt with trembling hands. She puts her hands over mine.

"Dec, we're in this together. If you want to slow down or stop, we can. This has to be right for both of us."

Somehow, I fall more in love with this woman. How could I not?

"Miranda, I want you so much I can barely see straight. But I'm nervous. I'm afraid I am going to hurt you. What if I'm terrible at this? What if you don't enjoy it? What if you regret being with me? I want it to be perfect."

She brushes my hands off my belt buckle and finishes the job for me. Her deft fingers unbutton and unzip my pants and push them over my hips until they fall to the floor. I step out of them and kick them to the side.

"Wow," she breathes, echoing my earlier sentiment. She's looking at my cock in my boxer briefs and it's so hard I'm shocked it hasn't poked a hole through the cotton. "Can I see it?"

I'm grateful the lights are off because the blush no doubt rising on my cheeks is hidden.

"Okay," I say, pulling my briefs down. This can't be normal. Aren't we supposed to be doing more kissing and touching and less talking? We should be on the bed now.

"But now I'm naked and you're not. That's not fair." I rest my hands on her hips and slip my fingers into the waistband of her panties. "May I?"

Her response is a sharp intake of breath and a rapid nod. I lower them down her legs, dropping to my knees as I go. At the sight of her neatly trimmed black curls, I realize I am probably not going to survive the evening. I am going to die a virgin. No way can I caress and kiss and make love to this beautiful woman and not have a heart attack. Maybe I'm already dead and I'm in Heaven. I could believe that.

"Declan," Miranda says. "I know we're supposed to be romantic and all sorts of good stuff, but I'm freezing. Can we get under the covers, please?"

"Of course." I stand and reach around her to pull back the comforter and sheets on my bed to let her slide in. She scoots over to the other side to make room for me too.

"Oh," she says with a sigh. "The flannel feels good against my skin and your bed is cozy. I can't believe I'm here with you." She rolls to her side and snuggles next to me. I extend my arm inviting her head to rest on my shoulder. I lower my head to kiss her and it's like a match set to the fuse of a firework. We ignite and explode in a flurry of feelings and movement. Our hands roam each other's bodies. Our mouths kiss, suck, and nibble everywhere we can reach. I can feel how wet Miranda is for me.

"Please Declan. I want you. Now." She opens her legs wider, allowing my hips to nestle against her.

"Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you."

"It will be fine. Please. Make me yours."

That is all the encouragement I need. I take my cock in hand and rub the head against her slickness. Placing it at her opening, I slowly push in. All the Saints in Heaven, I swear I'm going to die. She is wet and warm and tight. I'm going to embarrass myself here. I'm ready to blow. Just from having a couple of inches in her.

"Fuck…," I moan.

"Yeah, kind of the point," she says breathlessly. Even at a time like this, she's got jokes. No wonder I love her.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

"I will be. Please. Please Declan, I want you. All of you."

I push in further. And then pull back out most of the way. I thrust in again. And again. This is incredible. How do people ever do anything other than make love? I think this is my new favorite thing. I thrust a couple more times and a tingle starts at the base of my spine. Oh no, not yet. I don't want this to end yet. I try to hold back my release, but I can't. I give one last thrust and then I'm shuddering, releasing everything I have into Miranda's incredible body. Happy New Year to me.