Page 149 of One Night Only
I need to get up. I’m too awake to go back to sleep and I don’t want Declan to come back and find me waiting for him.
I mean I do but I don’t. It’s important to set rules early on in whatever this is. Important to carve back some sort of control.
And make him work for it.
I stand, wrapping the sheet around me, and realize for the first time I am alone in his apartment.
I’m careful to respect his space. I don’t rifle through his drawers no matter how much I want to. Not that there’s much to rifle through. There’s no storage space in the room. His clothes hang on an open rack that looks like it’s about to collapse, his pants folded into cheap baskets underneath.
The bathroom, which barely fits me with the door closed, is just off the hall.
It takes me a minute to get his shower to work and when I do the water alternates between hot and cold, so I allow myself only a quick rinse before hurrying out.
My clothes are creased from spending the night in a heap on the floor but I have no other choice so I pull them on as my stomach rumbles.
We finished his cereal at some point during the night but that was hours ago.
And I did have a lot of exercise.
I smile at the memory. At all the memories and the pleasant ache between my legs and the knowledge that we can do it all over again.
I find the coffee exactly where he said it would be along with half a loaf of bread in the freezer. I make a slice of toast as the smell of breakfast fills the apartment.
I wonder what we’ll do today. I wonder if I’ll even leave the building.
Maybe I should just get back into bed.
I take a sip of espresso, grinning at the thought when there’s a knock on the door.
It can’t be Declan.
Even if he did forget his key, it’s barely been thirty minutes. It would take him that long just to get to the bar. Not there and back.
I do a quick scan for any incriminating evidence and creep the few steps to the door.
I peer through the peephole but can’t see a face, only a crown of blonde hair as whoever it is looks down at their feet.
A neighbor perhaps?
But I know it’s not.
I think about not answering but curiosity overwhelms me and I don’t move away as she knocks again.
“Declan?”
That goddamn accent.
I open the door before I can stop myself.
Her head shoots up, light-gray eyes going wide when she sees me. Her fist is raised to knock again and it hovers in midair before she lowers it.
I recognize her instantly even though we’ve never met before. Even though she has no idea who I am. How could I not when I spent days staring at a picture of her?
Fiona.
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She looks different than she does in the photos. Different from the embellished image I have of her in my mind. She’s older now, her hair shorter and pulled back into a thin ponytail. Her skin is pale and fair, her navy vest revealing the hint of sunburn around her shoulders.
