Page 72 of Final Goodbye
He rolled over, reaching for my side of the bed. Pulling me close, I rolled over to lay my head on his warm chest. “Sorry if I woke you up. Apparently, I hadn’t peed in hours and my bladder was screaming at me for release.”
“What time is it?” he mumbled as he stretched his hands over his head.
“Early enough to watch the sunrise in bed.”
“Wow. We really were knocked out, weren’t we?”
“We were basically the walking dead before we fell asleep yesterday, so I think it was called for.” I laughed while reveling in the way his arms felt around me. I don’t remember the last time I slept at my mom’s. Somewhere along the way, we took on this new routine of me sleeping over every night. With mornings like these, the sunrise staring back at me and looking as beautiful as it did, it made me never want to leave.
“I could get used to this,” I said shyly.
“Yeah? What is it you can get used to?” He rubbed slow circles on my arm as he held me against his hard body.
“All of it. Sleeping with you every night. Staying here. This view. Coming home to you after a late-night shift at the bar.” I reflected on everything I never thought I’d enjoy as much as I was. I was past ignoring my feelings for him. They were coming in hot and weren’t going anywhere.
My feelings were here to stay. I was here to stay.
Declan titled my chin up, leaning my head back so I looked him in the eye. “I know it’s only been two short months of us getting to know each other but it feels so much longer, yet not long enough. It’s a feeling I can’t explain but I want all themornings with you in my bed, Paige. I want all the late nights of you sliding into my bed in the middle of the night. I want all of the early wake up calls by the sunrise because we forget to close the curtains. I want you here in my house as long as you want to stay. I want you to consider my house your home too.” This man of mine had a way with words. With everything he said these days, my cheeks flushed, and I throbbed so deep in my stomach I had to squeeze my legs shut.
He wore his emotions on his sleeve and wasn’t afraid to speak what he wanted into existence. The more time I spent around him, the more open I became with my feelings too.
Before I could get another word out, my stomach spoke for me. A loud growl indicated I in fact, had not eaten in God knows how long. He took the cue. “I’m starving too. Come on, let me make breakfast for you.” Fuck. He cooks breakfast too? He was making it impossible for me to leave.
Maybe that was his goal all along.
I might as well hole up here because I had everything I needed. “What’s for breakfast?” I looked up at him and smiled.
“You like French toast?”
“It may just be my new favorite meal,” I answered. “No one has ever cooked for me before.” The admission made my cheeks burn. I was thirty years old, and I’ve never had a man treat me the way that Declan has in just a few short months.
“Get used to it, baby girl. This is how it feels to be treated right.” My teeth bit down on my lip at that response as we made our way out of bed and into the kitchen.
I glanced down at his hand wrapped up from yesterday and frowned at the memory. It felt like I had slept for days. How could I forget that his hand was battered from punching Logan?
“How is your hand feeling this morning?” He looked down at the bandage and shook out his hand.
“Well, seeing as how I almost forgot it was wrapped up, maybe that’s a good sign that it’s just bruised up.” Relief washed over me. Deep down, I love that he stood up for his brother and me, but I never wanted him to get hurt because of it.
When we walked into the kitchen, I took the opportunity to take care of him—he always took care of me, and it was time to return the favor from yesterday and every other day he came to my rescue. The least I could do was get a closer look at his hand under the bandage.
“Here, let me see.” I took his hand in mine and gently started to unwrap the fabric that was spun around his hand. He wiggled his fingers and moved his wrist around in a few circles, no signs of pain etched on his face.
“See. Just a little bruised, but should be good to go.” He grinned as he waved his fingers at me. “Take a seat while I make us breakfast.”
I did as he asked and sat up at the bar top counter. As he grabbed each ingredient he would need to make French toast, I took the moment to admire him. He was bent over at the fridge fishing out milk, eggs and butter while I drank in his muscular back. Muscles I didn’t even know existed were protruding from his back side. He was wearing those damn gray sweatpants and walking around shirtless again.
Maybe I could eat the French toast off him?
My mouth started to salivate, and I didn’t know if it was because the smell of cinnamon and vanilla extract floating around the kitchen or because he looked as edible as the fucking French toast itself.
“I can feel your eyes burning a hole in my back, Paige. You can keep eye fucking me or you can come over here and do something about it.” I swallowed the lump forming in my throat.
“I was just admiring you making me breakfast. I never knew dipping bread in egg could be so sexy.” He flipped the Frenchtoast on the burner as it made a sizzling sound. With a slight turn of his head, he glanced at me behind him with a sexy smirk lifting at the corners of his lips.
“Order up.” He slid a plate across the bar with two of the most perfect looking pieces of French toast I’d ever seen. Egg dipped bread cut in fourths, powdered sugar sprinkled across the plate and maple syrup drizzled in a zig zag formation sat in front of me. It was almost too pretty to eat, but I was absolutely starving.
“Declan, this looks amazing. Where did you learn to cook?” I asked in awe.
