7. Declan

DECLAN

I can't stop thinkingabout the night when we consummated our marriage. That was two days ago, and I haven't seen Bree since.

Paige insists on showing me the suite that Bree chose, and it is a great suite, probably the best one in the house since it's the only one with a kitchenette.

But I don't see Bree, except briefly in the halls. I'm sleeping in my own room because I get up so early for work lately. We're focused on intercepting the shipment of girls that Murphy's working on, and I don't want Bree to get wind of it.

I guess it's not like she can get word out to her father, but at the same time, I don't want to risk it.

And frankly, I don't know if I want a repeat of our wedding night either. It was too good and for my own sake, I should stay away from her.

Too bad that only lasts until dinner.

Bree's dressed in a yellow shift dress that stretches nicely across her ass and thick thighs, and I can't help but steal a few glances. Her auburn hair looks shiny and freshly curled, like she's the belle of the ball, but there's something wrong.

Her eyes... they don't seem angry anymore. Not really. It's almost like something's dimmed in those hazel eyes, and it makes my stomach twist.

It's the first dinner that Bree has attended, having always preferred to stay up in our room, and I never thought much of it.

Now, though, I'm a bit worried.

"Don't you just love Bree's new clothes?" Paige asks me brightly. She's had a couple of glasses of wine, and it just makes her even more bubbly.

"It's a beautiful dress," I agree quietly, but Bree doesn't even look up at me, picking at her lamb chops. I frown. "You don't like lamb?"

"I love it." Bree looks up at me, and an ember of anger burns in her eyes for a fleeting second, and I can't help but feel a little relieved. If she started being depressed, I think I'd feel almost bad about it.

But it shouldn't matter. She's related to Niall Murphy, so I shouldn't be feeling any type of way about her.

She doesn't speak much other than answering Lara and Paige throughout dinner, even though everyone else is lively. Hell, even Gray is regaling us with a story.

"Cillian and I were taking some... things .... from the warehouse," Gray says, laughing already. "We were in my SUV, and he kept asking if I'd pull over and let him smoke."

Lara shakes her head. "He needs to quit."

Gray nods. "Exactly. So, I tell him I won't, and then next thing I know, we're whizzing by a state patrol car. I had to have been going seventy in a thirty-five."

"Holy shit," Paige pipes up. "So, what'd you do?"

Gray laughs. "He put on his sirens, and I took off, taking the back alleys back toward the house. I finally got rid of him, but it scared the shit out of Cillian."

I'm laughing but I keep glancing at Bree, and she's just sitting there, as if she's barely paying attention.

I can't hold back anymore, so I lean to her, putting my mouth closer to her ear. "What's wrong?"

She doesn't answer. Doesn't even react at all. As if I haven't said anything to her.

"Leave her be, Declan," Lara warns. "She's just having a bad day. Some days girls have bad days."

I grumble under my breath. Seems to me that Bree has no reason to be having a bad day. After all, I've given her everything that she could have possibly desired since she got here.

Sure, we got off to a rough start with the kidnapping, but she has everything she needs.

"If you want anything, all you have to do is ask," I tell Bree, and she looks up at me coolly.

"Is that so?" She narrows her eyes at me. "Then, I want to go home."

Gray snickers. "You should have seen that coming."

I huff out a breath, the growl, "You know what I meant. And you're being rude at dinner."

"Can't seem to help myself." She looks directly at my father. "May I be excused?"

Bree stands up.

My father raises an eyebrow at her before nodding. "Yes, of course. You don't have to ask."

She nods back and listlessly walks up the stairs.

I frown, excusing myself and following her, and my father throws me a wink.

"The best ones have fire in their eyes," he comments, but I don't respond.

He's right, of course, but I haven't exactly forgiven him for everything.

I open and close the door, and Bree's lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling.

I stand near the door, my arms crossed over my chest. "Why are you being so sullen?"

Bree's quiet for a moment. I think she's not going to respond, that the fire is dimming, and something like panic rises in my throat.

She sits up slowly, staring at me. "Sullen?"

"Yes. Sullen. Like a little child who didn't get her way."

"My way?" Her eyes widen.

Bree stands up, stalking toward me.

There it is.

The fire is back in her hazel eyes, and I have to admit, I'm glad. I'm pumped. That fire seems to have an effect on me.

"None of this is my way, Declan. You kidnapped me. You forced me to marry you. Then you fucked me, and you ignore me for two days?"

I bark out a laugh. "Ignore you? Is that what you're mad about, princess?"

"You think I'm mad about that? Are all Burkes this stupid, or is it just you?"

My own temper starts to stir, and I press my lips together.

"You've been treated well," I look around. "New wardrobe, nice digs... any food you could ever want."

She scoffs. "Oh, please. I'm a prisoner here. The fact that it is gilded doesn't make this place any less of a cage."

"You're not a prisoner." My eyes clash with hers. "You're family now, Bree. You're a Burke."

"In name only," she snaps.

I spread my hands, smiling. "So, you admit it?"

"Admit what?"

"That you're a Burke. That you have been treated well."

"I didn't say that," she snaps, pointing at me, poking me in the chest.

While she moves, that little shift dress is riding up, and my mouth goes dry.

"Sounds like you're finally accepting your fate." I'm doing everything in my power to piss her off because I want her anger. I want her hatred. I want something other than that despair that was so clear in her eyes.

"I'll never accept it," she insists. "I'll never really be your wife. I hope you know that. I'll never love you, Declan."

Who does she think she is? Like I'd even want her love.

Yet, as the thought crosses my mind, my chest tightens.

Her words sting a little for reasons I can't begin to understand, and when she points at my chest again, I grab her wrist, turning her hand inward and pulling her closer to me.

She gasps, her breasts bouncing against my chest, and I slide my arms around her waist.

"Maybe not," I murmur. "But you want me, and you can never take that away from me."

"Who says I want you?" she taunts, but her breath is coming shorter and shorter.

"Your body." I squeeze her against me. "Your heart, racing away."

"My body's a fucking traitor," she spits out.

I hum. "Yeah, I know how that feels."

And as my own body betrays the feelings I should have for her—disgust, hatred—I lean down and smash my lips against hers, our teeth nearly gnashing together in my haste.

She fights me for a second and then melts against me, sliding her tongue against mine, kissing me back hard and hungrily. Then she shifts, pushes me down on the bed, and I grin up at her.

"Can't wait to have it, can you?"

"Shut up," she growls, straddling me, bunching up her dress around her waist.

When I tug it off her, she's not wearing a bra, just a pair of nearly translucent panties, and I take a nipple in my mouth.

She arches her back, rocking her hips against my erection, and I gasp against her skin.

Bree reaches down between us, unbuttoning my slacks, reaching inside, and fills her hands with my cock

My breath catches in my chest.

"Fuck." I thrust into her hand, wanting her so badly it feels like I'm already about to explode.

I shove her panties to the side, thrusting into her.

Last time, her temper got her all hot and wet, so I hoped this time was the same, and I'm happy with how slick she's already, just like I thought.

"You want me," I taunt. "You want me so bad you're aching for it."

"I think you're thinking of yourself." She rocks her hips with a little smirk, the very first smile I've seen, and I can't breathe as she does a little lap dance, rolling her hips, shaking her ass, bouncing on me.

I grab hold of her hips, thrusting up beneath her as her hands slide across my chest, her thumbs flicking over my nipples. It sends pleasure down my spine.

"I do want you." Like I could deny it if I wanted to. "But at least I'm man enough to admit it."

"God," she moans. "God, please, I'm going to come."

I pull out of her, throwing her down on the bed as I pull her panties down to her knees, and she gets up on all fours, spreading her thighs, not bothering to take her panties all of the way off.

I love the way she looks, spread out for me, glistening in the light.

She's shaved almost bare with just a landing strip, and looking at her makes my mouth water. Part of me wants to press my face into her pussy, taste her, inhale her musk, but my dick is aching for her, and I want to be inside her so badly I don't think I can wait.

"You're so fucking hot. So wet and tight," I moan. "Your perfect ass."

I shouldn't be praising her, but I can't seem to stop.

She rolls her hips back against me, and I guide myself into her, riding her hard.

She buries her face into the pillows, and I wrap my hand around her hair, pulling her face up.

"Nuh-uh, princess. I want everyone to hear how well I'm fucking you."

She cries out as I continue thrusting. "Please, please, please."

"Please what?" I slow down even though my balls are already drawing up.

"Please make me come," she begs, and I grab hold of her hips, dropping her head, and fuck her hard and fast, angling up to get to her deepest parts.

She moans out my name when she comes, and between that and the way she clenches around me, I can't hold back anymore. I spill inside her, groaning out her name.

Bree gasps, collapsing as I pull out of her, and I slowly shift her so that I can put her under the covers, lying next to her.

I'm panting, and Bree's still lying face down.

"Just because I want you to fuck me doesn't mean I like you." Her voice is muffled by the pillow where she buried her face.

I chuckle. "All right. Fair enough."

She twists on the bed, turning over and frowning at me. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I shrug. "I said, fair enough."

Bree frowns wider. "You're not supposed to agree with me. That's weird. Don't do that."

"Don't do what?" I laugh. "Don't agree with you? Ever? Seems like that's an unrealistic ask."

"I don't like it," she mumbles, and then she turns over, facing the wall.

I want to slide an arm around her, just instinct, I guess, but she scoots as far away as she can.

I sigh, standing up to undress.

Paige and Lara have had my things moved into this room except for a few suits and some clothes in my old room, which is nearer the office.

I undress and throw on a pair of sweats, just because it's a little chilly in the room, and slide back under the covers.

She's snoring softly by now, and so I sneak an arm around her waist.

She doesn't stir at first, but then she pushes back against me, wiggling to get closer, and I can't help but break into a smile.

This is bad. Like, really bad.