Page 40 of Worth the Risk
Declan’s hand stills against my back, then resumes its gentle stroking. “I’m sorry.”
“It was a long time ago.” The familiar ache is there, but dulled by time. “What about you? Tell me something I don’t know about Declan Pierce.”
He’s quiet for so long I wonder if he’s fallen asleep. Then he shifts, pulling me closer against the solid warmth of his chest. “My mother left us when I was seven.”
The admission hangs in the air, his voice carrying a detachment that feels practiced, as if he’s learned to say the words without feeling them. I wait, giving him space to continue or retreat.
“She decided corporate life wasn’t for her,” he says finally. “My father was building Pierce Enterprises, working eighty-hour weeks. She wanted something... simpler.”
“Where did she go?” I ask softly, my fingers tracing the contours of his chest.
“New Mexico, initially. Then Colorado. She moved around, following whatever spiritual path caught her interest.” There’s a controlled neutrality in his tone that tells me more than his words. “She sent birthday cards for a few years, then Christmas cards, then nothing.”
I press my lips against his shoulder, a wordless comfort for a wound I can tell has never fully healed. “Did you ever see her again?”
“Once, when I was in college.” His voice is distant now, as if he’s recalling something he keeps carefully locked away. “I tracked her down to this commune in New Mexico. She was living in a yurt, making pottery and teaching meditation to tourists.”
I stay quiet, feeling the tension in his body as he speaks.
“She seemed happy to see me, but it was like meeting a stranger. Someone who happened to have my eyes and knew details about my childhood.” His fingers trace idle patterns on my bare shoulder. “She asked if I was still playing baseball. I hadn’t played since eighth grade.”
The sadness in his voice makes my chest ache. I press closer to him, offering wordless comfort.
“My father never remarried. Just threw himself into the business. Pierce Enterprises became his entire identity.” Declan’s chest rises and falls with a deep breath. “I supposethat’s why he expected I’d follow in his footsteps. Take over the company and take it to new heights. Build the Pierce legacy.”
“Is that what you wanted?” I ask, hearing the echo of expectation in his words.
He’s quiet for a moment, his fingers continuing their gentle exploration of my skin. “I wanted to make him proud,” he finally says. “After my mother left, that became... everything.”
I lift my head to look at him, finding his eyes in the moonlight. There’s vulnerability there I’ve never seen before—not in the boardroom, not during our negotiations, not even when he kissed me in the storage room.
“And now?” I whisper, knowing I’m asking about more than just his relationship with his father.
“Now I’m lying in bed with a woman who challenges everything I thought I knew about what I want.” His hand cups my face, thumb tracing my lower lip. “A woman who fights for what matters to her with a ferocity that makes me question what I’m fighting for.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“I don’t know yet,” he replies. “But I know I want to find out.”
He kisses me then, slow and deep, his hand sliding into my hair to cradle my head. This kiss is different from our earlier urgency—deliberate, exploratory, like he’s trying to memorize the taste and feel of me. I melt into him, my body responding with a languid heat that builds slowly from my core outward.
When he pulls away, his eyes are dark pools of desire in the moonlight. “It’s late,” he murmurs, but makes no move to leave,his hand tracing the curve of my hip and sending shivers across my skin.
“Stay,” I whisper, surprising myself with how much I want him to. How much I need the warmth of his body next to mine tonight.
Maybe because I know in the morning, everything will be different. In the harsh light of day, we’ll have to face the consequences of what we’ve done. The way we’ve complicated an already precarious situation. The lines we’ve crossed that can never be uncrossed.
But tonight, in the soft darkness of my bedroom, I want to pretend those complications don’t exist.
“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice rough with something that sounds like hope.
I answer by pulling him closer, my lips finding his in the darkness. His response is immediate, arms tightening around me as he rolls me beneath him. This time there’s no urgency, no desperate rush—just the slow, deliberate exploration of bodies learning each other’s secrets.
At least, for tonight.
12
I can’t focuson a damn thing. The quarterly reports blur in front of me as my mind drifts back to last night—to Maya. The way she felt beneath me, the sounds she made, how perfectly she fit in my arms. I wanted to stay till morning, wake her up with kisses and another round of what we’d done in the dark. But reality has sharp edges that cut through fantasies.
