Page 148 of One Night Only
Oh. “Is your mom okay?”
“She’s fine.”
I stare as he stands, gloriously naked and unconscious about it as he gets dressed.
“There was a water leak in O’Shea’s,” he explains. “I need to go check out the damage.” The boxer shorts go on. And then his jeans.
I push myself into a sitting position, wondering if I can reach my underwear on the floor without flashing him.
Declan frowns. “What are you doing?”
“I’m getting up.”
“You’re not getting up,” he says, grabbing a fresh T-shirt. “You’re staying here, naked, and when I get back, I’ll join you.”
I open my mouth to protest but before I can he climbs onto the bed until his body hovers over mine. “One of these days I am going to have breakfast with you.”
“Oh, you think we’re doing this again, do you?” I ask as he fits one long leg between my thighs.
“I won’t be long,” he says, his voice tickling my ear.
“I don’t care.” But even I can hear the smile in my voice.
“Are you going to tell me about your dream now?”
“I thought we covered that last night.”
“Was that before or after you jumped me?”
“I didn’tjump—”
“I’m not going to let this drop until you tell me, so you might as well get it over with.”
I scowl at the space above his shoulder. Declan doesn’t budge.Ugggggh. Fine. “I was naked.”
“Excellent start.”
I close my eyes briefly, trying and failing to fight the sudden wave of embarrassment. “And you were wearing your tuxedo.”
There’s a long pause and I want to shove him away, climb out the window and jump into an open manhole but he lifts himself up, his fists sinking into the mattress on either side of my head as he looks down at me, an almost thoughtful look on his face.
“You’ve got a suit thing?”
“A tuxedo thing,” I correct. “And before you—”
“I’ve still got it.”
My breath catches in my throat and he grins.
“Good to know.”
Quick as lightning he kisses my cheek and then he’s off, leaving a gust of cool air in his wake.
“Whatever you do,” he says, his voice further away. “Donotuse my coffee in the second cabinet beside the microwave and do not, and I repeat, donothelp yourself to whatever’s in the fridge.”
There’s some noise from the living room and then the front door shuts. I stare up at the ceiling, clutching the sheet to my chest.
I don’t move for a long time. I don’t think I can move. But, eventually, I come back down to earth. The noises from outside start to creep in, the sound of the traffic, voices on the street below. The pipework groans somewhere above me. My pulse starts to mellow.
