Page 16 of Arranged Addiction
Declan always seems so cold and hard. But this close, touching each other, naked and post-sex, he’s still hot and warm and masculine.
Slowly, the tension bleeds away, until I’m in his arms and feeling more comfortable and protected than I’ve ever felt before in my life.
I wake with a start.
What the hell?
Sunlight streams through the big windows. I groan, squinting, and it takes a second to understand.
I’m still in Declan’s bed.
I’m in his room. In his apartment.
I had sex with him last night.
I don’t move, terrified that I might disturb him. How pissed would he be if I woke him too early?
But oh my god.
Last night was…
Incredible. And scary as hell.
I can still feel him between my legs.
The memory of him in my mouth, his tongue on my nipples, his fingers between my legs…
I can’t believe that really happened.
Fortunately, I’m not hungover, which means I can’t use alcohol as an excuse for acting like a horny moron. I don’t know where our working relationship is going to be after this, but it’s probably in tatters.
He’s going to fire me.
Or worse, he won’t fire me, and I’ll have to quit in shame.
I squeeze my eyes shut. How did this happen? Why am I so stupid?
Declan’s the first man to show real interest in me for years and I just throw myself at his feet and call himsir.
Which was admittedly hot, but still.
Pathetic and needy.
There’s no way he’ll respect me after this. Forget about saving for my dream house. I’ll have to get a normal job that pays a regular, average salary, and that means at least another five years of living at home with Sheila before I can afford to think about buying my own.
I berate myself for a few more minutes, but eventually I have to pee. Slowly, quietly, I slip off the side of the bed. I risk a glance over my shoulder as I sneak over to the bathroom, still completely naked. Which is mortifying.
But the bed is empty.
Declan isn’t there. I stare at the pillow beside mine and it’s all messed up like someone slept on it the night before.
But the man himself is missing.
I hurry into the bathroom and take care of myself. When I’m done, I stand beside the bed and finally look at the clock.
It’s after nine in the morning.
Which means I’m late for work.
