Page 17 of Downfall

Before I can finish speaking, he pushes off the door frame, his long legs eating up the distance between us until he’s so close I can smell the stupid citrus of his cologne mixed with a vague note of cigarettes. Then his hands are on my desk and he’s leaning forward, a piece of dyed blonde hair falling into his face. “If you think I was getting my dick sucked, you don’t know me at all.”

I’m momentarily taken aback—by his sudden anger or his proximity, I don’t know. It takes a second, but when I finally snap out of it, I’m the one who’s angry. “I never said I did.”

He straightens up, flicking his head to the side to move the hair from his face.

“Honestly, I don’t give a shit what you were doing this morning.” I go on. “What I do care about is getting this annulment, so you better show up when I make an appointment with the lawyer.”

He slides a hand into his pocket. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Yeah, I don’t always know what my schedule is going to look like, but sure, you can try to set up an appointment.”

A frustrated sigh escapes me before I can hold it back. “Declan Astor! This isn’t a joke anymore. We got married. Legally fucking married.”

It’s at that exact moment, I notice one of the photography interns walking past my office. Stomping past Declan, I slam the door shut until I hear the snick of the latch engaging. “Give me your new phone number,” I demand. I’m not taking any more chances if he decides to stand me up again. Not that he would answer my calls anyway, but at least I can try.

“I don’t have a new number. It’s the same one from high school.”

I furrow my brows. “But I tried calling you like five times today.”

“Then you called the wrong number.”

He takes his phone out, tapping the screen a couple of times until a faint buzzing fills the space. I grab my phone from the desk drawer where I keep it while I’m working. Declan’s number flashes on the screen. Only it’s off by one digit from the number I called this morning. Meaning I’m forgetting him. Of course, the moment I start losing pieces of him, he comes barreling back into my life.

I take pleasure in declining the call before dropping my phone back onto my desk. “I’ll text you with the details.”

Declan has the nerve to bite his lip, trapping that stupid silver ring between his teeth. I force myself to nod toward the door, silently dismissing him, and he walks backward, cockiness dripping off his body as he reaches behind him to open the door. It’s not lost on me that he was able to exit my office ten times smoother than Dan while walking backward. Maybe he’s the opposite. Cocky in the streets, dud in the sheets.

Except I happen to know he’s anything but a dud in the sheets. I know because he’s the only man who has ever made me feel alive while thoroughly wrecking me at the same time.

8

DECLAN

“So how does wife pussy compare to girlfriend pussy?”

Ash looks up at me from his computer, pure shock etched across his face.

“Jesus, Declan. What happened to ‘Hi, how are you?’”

“No time.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “What are you even doing here?”

“Had some business in the area. Thought I’d drop in. See how that juicy as⁠—”

“I fucking dare you to finish that sentence.”

“Damn, I just got the craziest déjà vu. Didn’t we have this exact conversation when you were too chicken-shit to admit you had feelings for the girl who ghosted your ass?”

“That girl is my wife now, so if you thought I was possessive before, it’s a hundred times worse. Fuck, man, I don’t even know. It’s like I want to be inside her from the time I wake up until I fall asleep, and then all night too. Is that…normal?”

I go to open my mouth, but he cuts in.

“Don’t answer. I don’t know why I just told you that, of all people. It’s not like you’ve ever even fucked the same woman twice.”

If only he knew.