Page 58 of Shuttered Hearts

“I need a second.” His eyes move back to mine. “You’re so tight. I need a minute, or this will be over much faster than either of us wants.” He presses his lips to mine in a bruising kiss. One of his hands moves to my thigh, pulling my leg around his hip, and he slips a little further in as he starts moving his hips.

His forehead drops to mine. “You feel so good,” he moans, pressing his lips back to mine. My legs squeeze his hips, my heel digging into his ass, and he finally breaks, pumping into me hard.

I feel the tension build in his back like he’s on the brink of release. “I need you to come with me, Quinn.” He reaches between us, his fingers finding my clit, applying the slightest bit of pressure, and my walls instantly close around him. My eyes close, and my back arches as I scream through my orgasm.

Declan shudders through his release before collapsing on top of me, pressing his lips to my neck in a lingering kiss. As our breathing returns to normal, Declan pulls out and rolls, taking me with him so I’m lying on top of him.

“I need a minute, and then we’re doing that again, but in your bed,” he mumbles as his hands trace invisible shapes on my back.

I press a kiss to his chest before resting my cheek there. The sounds of his racing heart bringing me a comfort I've never felt before. “Just a minute?” I joke.

He lightly swats my ass before rolling me over and standing to dispose of the condom.

As I watch him walk away, I can’t help but think about how good I feel, something I haven’t felt after sex before. Though not something I’m proud of, I’ve been with a number of men since my first time having sex. Most of them were after my attackwhile searching for something I thought I’d lost—my ability to find joy and comfort in sex, my sense of control, my safety, and choice. All of it became so tied up in my brain. I know I made unsafe choices, but I found pieces of myself in those partners. While some of them had been pretty good, maybe even great, none left me feeling the way Declan has—completely and wholly satisfied and safe. Like nothing bad could happen as long as I’m here with him.

No, every man I’ve ever been with pales in comparison to Declan. It’s both freeing and terrifying to think. I know I could fall for him, if I haven’t started to already. Loving him the way my father loved my mother? It could destroy me if I’m not careful.

I know Dad tried his best after Mom left, but there was a period when it felt like he didn’t want to continue on in life. I hadn’t understood at the time why he still loved her so much after everything she already put him through, but I think I understand it now. Wanting to believe the person you loved would love you in return—it’s not a crazy concept. But I also understand you can’t love someone else into loving you.

Dad always put Mom first, which wasn’t always a bad thing. But when the person you’re always putting first never does the same for you?

If I give my everything to Declan, like my dad did with my mother, what will happen if Declan leaves? Mom hadn’t always been so selfish. I know she loved him just as fiercely as he loved her; I saw it in the way they looked at each other and touched each other. They always made it a point to be with each other. I don’t know what changed, but if it was so easy for Mom to forget all of that, what’s to say the same wouldn’t happen to Declan and me?

“What are you thinking about?” Declan asks, coming back into the room and lying on the floor with me.

“Nothing,” I say quietly.

“I can see the tension coursing through you,” he whispers, pulling me close. “Talk to me. Please.”

I lift my head to look at him, and the concern on his face makes me pause.

This man would do anything for the people he cares about. He would hurt himself before he’d hurt me. I know that. Declan has proven that time and time again.

“It’s nothing.” I shift higher up his body, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I promise, I’m good.” I smile at him, lifting myself to sit, straddling his hips. I slide my still-wet center along his growing erection, trying to prove just how good I am.

“Quinn,” he groans, his hands moving to my hips as if to stop me, but there’s no strength in his grip.

“You said you only needed a minute.” I shift along his length again.

“I also said we’d move to the bed.” His grip on my hips tightens as he starts moving me over him.

I bend so my lips touch his as I say, “Next time.”

twenty-eight

QUINN

We did,indeed, eventually make it to bed last night. After another round in the living room and one more in the shower, we finally collapsed into bed.

I don’t consider myself a cuddler. I like my space while I’m sleeping, but as we climbed into bed last night, Declan pulled me into him, my back to his chest, and I fell asleep instantly.

As with everything about him, having his heat at my back brought a comfort I hadn’t known I was craving. I didn’t only like having him in my bed and life; I was growing to love it.

I wake up to the sun shining through the open blinds of my bedroom window. I don’t feel Declan pressed up against my back anymore, but when I roll over, I find him still on the other side of the bed, lying on his stomach, arms butterflied under his pillow. The sheets have fallen right above his ass, leaving his toned back completely exposed to me. I fight the urge to reach over and touch him, and instead focus on his face. He looks so peaceful while he sleeps. I want to freeze this moment in time and never leave it.

I do the next best thing. I slowly get out of bed, making my way to the living room, where I grab Declan’s flannel from the floor, slip it on, and move toward the coffee table to grab my camera.

I quietly return to the bedroom and thank my lucky stars Declan hasn’t moved. Making my way around the bed, I gently climb in and start taking pictures. I only get a few clicks of the button when Declan shifts in his sleep, his eyes slowly opening.

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