Page 65 of Downfall

Declan’s words from the other night are still fresh in my mind.

Once I had you, I couldn’t even stand the thought of being with anyone else.

I couldn’t have heard him correctly, and yet, if anyone would know, it would be Ashton.

“Define a lot.”

Shaking my head, I log out of my computer. Clearly, nothing else productive is happening today. “Never mind. Forget I asked.”

“For whatever it’s worth, he’s only ever looked at you like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re the only person in the room.”

I swallow the lump of emotion in my throat, and he gives me a small smile before he walks out.

It only takes ten minutes after Ashton leaves for my phone to start buzzing with messages in the girls’ group chat. Allie invites Emory and me to have dinner “chef’s table” style at her restaurant, and even though I know Declan and I need to talk, I accept. A few more hours of avoidance can’t hurt, right?

Emory and I sit in the kitchen like we did a few weeks ago, but this time Allie actually serves us small plates, each one more delicious than the last. The whole time Julian’s chopping or using tiny tweezers to place garnishes at his station, but he glances my way every so often. There’s no way he can be interested in me after the emotional roller-coaster he witnessed at the bar, but his attention still makes me blush.

After the third or fourth course, I start to relax a little. The atmosphere is light with Allie and Emory ribbing each other like they normally do, and it’s fun to watch Allie so in her element. When she’s not serving us or chatting, she’s calling out orders and yelling at her staff, not in a mean way, but more like a big crazy family. Allie offers us champagne, which I haven’t drunk since the night I married Declan. I decline, but when she takes the wire off the top, my gaze catches on my naked ring finger, and my heart dips. I have to excuse myself to use the restroom, and that’s when I notice the fading hickey on my neck. It must have been from the night Declan took me to get my car because he hasn’t kissed me since. Certainly not the last time we hooked up.

Suddenly, it all becomes too much. The champagne wire, Julian’s judgy eyes drifting over every so often, the hickey. I splash some water on my face, head back to the kitchen and thank Allie for a great evening. I say goodbye to Emory who has a knowing look in her eye, but she can’t possibly know what I’m thinking because even I don’t fully understand it.

All I know is that when I get back to Declan’s house, he’s already asleep. I go into my room, open the drawer of my nightstand and slip the twisted piece of metal onto my finger. Then before I can talk myself out of it, I change into an oversized T-shirt and pad down the hallway towards Declan’s room. It’s dark, almost pitch black aside from a sliver of moonlight filtering in through a crack in the curtains. It casts a line over his sleeping form, allowing me to see that he’s naked from the waist up. There are shadows of ink scattered around his upper body, but I can’t make out what any of the tattoos are. His chest rises and falls with each of his breaths, and it reminds me of my first kiss—the one I stole, the one he never knew about.

Climbing under the covers, I slowly move my body until my back is flush against his front. He stirs, moving closer and putting his arm around me. I look back to check, and he’s still fast asleep. His warmth surrounds me, filling the ache in my chest like a balm, and for the first time in weeks, it takes only seconds for me to fall asleep.

27

DECLAN

My eyes snap open, my breathing rapid, sweat beading along my forehead. For a minute, I’m still trapped in that closet in my father’s office, his taunting voice drifting through the slit at the bottom of the door. He would mostly take work calls after he locked me in, chewing out one person or another for not doing their job to his specifications. But sometimes he would talk to women—women who were very much not my mom. My stomach would churn as I listened to him give them orders about where to be and what to wear. The nightmares used to be more frequent, but I haven’t had one in a while. It must be all the shit he’s pulling that’s stirred up the unwanted memories.

I start to sit up, and that’s when I realize there’s something warm and soft in my way. My first instinct is to panic because who the fuck is in my bed? But then my eyes catch on a strand of wavy auburn hair hanging against my arm, and I relax. Leaning over, I watch as her eyes flutter in her sleep while soft, steady breaths escape her lips.

She climbed into bed with me.

Suddenly, nothing else matters—not my father or the nightmare—and all I want is to kiss her. I want to wake her up and show her just how happy I am that she’s here, but she looks so peaceful. As my head hits the pillow, she wiggles, burrowing her ass into me, and my cock stirs, thickening beneath my boxer briefs. I try to will it down because the poor girl doesn’t need to be poked while she’s trying to sleep, but it’s no use.

“Someone’s happy to see me.” Her voice is rough, sleep-worn, but she turns around as she says it.

“It will go away,” I tell her.

“What if I don’t want it to?”

“Skylar. It’s the middle of the night.”

She reaches out, a smirk playing across her lips. I can only see it because the moonlight illuminates her face at just the right angle. She grabs my dick through my underwear, and my eyes fall closed. “What if I want to play?”

Fuck.

I sit up, giving her more space to use her hand, my eyes locked on hers, and whisper, “Then play.”

She sits up on her knees, letting go of me so she can peel my boxer briefs off. Then she takes my hand, guiding it slowly past the hem of her shirt to her pussy. At some point while I was sleeping, she crawled into my bed without underwear.

“Does this feel like I care that it’s the middle of the night?”