Page 91 of Huckleberry Hill
His grin was wolfish. “Now it’s my turn to be completely evil.” And then he bent his head and made good on his word.
My stomach rumbled.
Declan laughed and held me tighter. “I’m a terrible date. I promised to feed you.”
I stroked a finger across his pelty chest. “You fed me. You fed me good.”
“Did you just—tease me? With an innuendo?”
“Maybe.”
He kissed the top of my head, his hand stroking down my back. “You’ve got to get up.”
I snuggled closer. “But I’m comfortable.”
“It’ll be worth it, I promise.”
With a sigh, I rolled off him and sat up, my back facing him.
“What’s this?” Declan asked, brushing my hair off my shoulder and touching the ink on my shoulder blade.
“My tattoo,” I said. “I’m going to wear your shirt. Where is it?”
“I’ll get it for you. And I know it’s a tattoo. I just didn’t know you had one.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for his shirt to hand me.
“Well, I was on my back. So how could you see my hummingbird tattoo?”
“Just . . . you didn’t seem like the type to have any ink.”
“Everyone has ink,” I said. “Even my friend Poet has a tattoo. And she’s not the tattoo type.”
I slid into his flannel shirt and buttoned it. I stood. It fell to the middle of my thighs and I rolled up the sleeves.
“You look good in my shirt,” he said gruffly. He grabbed his discarded boxer briefs and pulled them on. “You care if I get into sweats, or is it too early for me in our relationship to get comfortable?”
My hands stilled and I looked at him. “Relationship?”
“Bad word choice,” Declan said.
“Hmm.” I went back to rolling up the sleeves and then I found my underwear. I didn’t like Declan’s casual use of the word relationship. I wasn’t sure what we were doing, but I wasn’t ready for anything resembling a relationship—not after what I’d just gone through.
“Why a hummingbird?” he asked, pulling me back to the present.
“Nachos, and I’ll tell you.”
We padded barefoot into the kitchen. He turned on the oven. “I’m going to throw the nachos back in for a few minutes. Let’s sit. It’ll take a bit for the oven to heat up.”
I took my glass of wine and sat at the end of the couch. Declan’s shirt rode up my legs, but I didn’t mind, especially because Declan couldn’t take his eyes off me.
He patted his thigh. I lifted my legs and placed them on his lap, and he held onto my ankle.
“You turned up the temperature,” I remarked.
He smiled. “Yeah. I’ll turn it down before we go to bed so we can sleep.”
My heart went gooey. “Thanks.”
He tweaked my big toe. “The hummingbird.”
