Page 40 of His to Protect

Chapter 9

Declan

I hadn’t slept since Trina curled herself into me and fell asleep quickly after.

I hadn’t been able to close my eyes without feeling pure rage.

I could only take so much time being next to her, breathing in her soft, clean scent, and touching the delicate curves of her body.

I had to fight the urge to run my hand down her side, feeling her curves. My fingers itched to explore her body, to travel beneath the layers of clothing separating my skin from hers. Between the warmth of her body, the slow rise and dip of her chest, and the way she had practically pleaded with me to stay with her, I couldn’t stop having inappropriate thoughts of inappropriate things I wanted to do to her.

Hours after she fell asleep, her quiet, little puffs of breath hitting my chest and driving me to the brink of doing something insane—like waking her up and covering her skin with kisses—I finally pulled myself away from her, careful not to wake her, and got the hell out of there.

Making only a whistling noise to get Boomer’s attention where he slept on the floor by Trina’s side of the bed, I shut her door quietly behind us. For a dopey-looking dog that generally seemed to care only about chasing squirrels and filling his stomach with food, he guarded her well.

As Boomer trudged behind me, the sound of our steps on the carpet the only noise in the house, I carefully made my way through the darkened living room and into the kitchen. I started a pot of coffee, knowing that if I hadn’t fallen asleep yet, I most likely wouldn’t at all.

Scratching sounds came from behind me and I looked to see Boomer clawing at the sliding door. I opened it just enough for him to slip through and flicked on the backyard porch light so I could see him. My yard was fenced, but the fence was only three feet high. If Boomer was ever motivated enough, he could easily clear it. As I closed the door, I jumped back from the quick rush of cool air breezing inside, chilling me to my bones.

It was September and already getting too cold for shorts. It was times like this I thought my parents had it right. Move south. Visit the North to escape the dastardly evil summer heat down there, but avoid the snow at all costs.

Thinking of my mom made me grin. I hadn’t talked to her much recently and I knew she’d have a lot of opinions when she learned I’d invited a woman into my home.

She never liked Mara, but never said anything. It was simply obvious with her quiet hums of displeasure, or the looks she’d shoot my dad when Mara and I were around them. At the time, I figured it was just because I was the baby of the family, the last to settle down, and my mom was having a hard time letting go.

Now I knew it was just her sixth sense about the eventual destruction of our relationship. Moms really did know everything.

Except for Trina’s.

My lips curled into a growl as I walked back to the kitchen and filled my coffee mug with fresh coffee.

That woman. What I wouldn’t give to demand she apologize to her daughter for forcing her to live through something so vile. She had thrown her daughter to the wolves for money, and I found it difficult to summon any compassion for her, even if she did it because of her illness.

My mother would never do anything like that. She’d given up her career to stay home and raise us as soon as my older brother was born. She lived through raising two boys—two hell-raising, football- and hockey-playing sons—with a husband who was just another large kid to take care of. Yet she never seemed to mind. In fact, she always said that looking back, the best days of her life were when her laundry room was overflowing with sweaty socks and piles of sports equipment.

If my mom were to get sick like Trina’s had, I had no doubt she’d move heaven and earth to see that my brother and I were taken care of, even if it was at her own expense. She was just that kind of mom.

If it wasn’t so damn early, or the middle of the night in Arizona, I’d pick up the damn phone and call her just to let her know how much I loved her.

Yeah…I might be a bit of a mama’s boy.

That was only because she showed her family what love was.

I was an idiot who settled, far too soon, for a woman I let pull the wool over my eyes because her pussy tasted sweet.

I sneered and looked outside to see Boomer meandering back to the door. I met him there, quickly slid the door open, and closed it behind him when he came in. He gave me a dopey look. I swear he was almost grinning as I fed him.

I left the kitchen to the sounds of Boomer slopping up his food while I went to the living room and turned on the news.

But as hard as I tried to erase the thoughts about what Trina told us that were still clamoring inside my brain, it was entirely futile.

I had completely misjudged her when I first saw her and when I first invited her into my home. Even with the fading, fancy hair color and the polished, manicured nails, she was nothing like Mara.

Trina might have had money, but the more she spoke last night, the more she seemed to loathe her wealth. At the very least, she despised what it could do to people.

I should have known from the first night I saw her.

No woman who looked like her, who had the money she clearly did, dug through a dumpster to find her dog dinner.

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