Page 153 of Succumbed

“It doesn’t,” I agree, a hint of teasing in my tone to lighten the heavy mood.

A ghost of a smile flickers across his lips. “I hope you make me work for your forgiveness.”

Scoffing, I pray my voice doesn’t quaver. “Bold of you to assume forgiveness is on the table, Wilde.”

He sobers. “It is. I know, and I’m not here to ask you to forgive me.”

“No?”

“No. Not now. Not when I haven’t earned it.”

His words resonate in my chest, fragile hope blooming to life. “Why are you here, then?”

“To apologize.” He soothes his thumbs along my hands, a gentle caress. “I’m sorry for being an insufferable asshole on the flight back from Paris.”

Unable to resist, I arch a brow. “Just the flight?”

He huffs a laugh, jade eyes blazing. “I’ve been pretty awful for months now, haven’t I?”

“You have.”

He releases my hands and rises to his feet. Moving slowly, watching for any signs of denial, he reaches out to trace a finger down my cheek, his touch featherlight. My skin flames in his wake, the fine hairs on my nape rising.

“That forgiveness I mentioned?” he rasps, tone low and full of promise.

“Hm?”

“I’m going to earn it, boss. Whatever it takes.”

Breathing deeply to control the fine tremble in my limbs, I stare up into his dark gaze. “You think that’s what I want?”

Declan’s chuckle is rough, gravel in his throat, as he leans down and braces his hands on the arms of my chair, crowding me.

“I know it’s what you fucking deserve, love. I meant what I said in Paris. You deserve someone who shows up for you in the small moments, like Linc and Shane have for the last few months. It’s not much,” he nods toward the photo frame, “but something tells me flashy gifts won’t cut it when you could buy yourself a private island.”

A soft chuckle escapes before he leans forward and kisses my cheek, his lips lingering. The loss of his heat leaves me shivering when he withdraws, my pulse spiking as I fight to catch my breath. When I look up, Declan is back at my door.

“I hope the photo makes you smile, like it has for me.” He pauses, lips parting on a slow breath. “I’d never dream to claim I’m worthy of you, Lex, but I’d like to start being there for you in all the ways I haven’t.”

“Yes, please,” I murmur, chest tight.

Declan’s eyes flare before he dips his chin, tapping his fingers against the door. “I’ll see you soon.”

His words are a promise, carving themselves into the connection between us as he starts to leave.

“Thank you,” I call, making him stop and look back over his shoulder. “For the photo, Declan, it’s…I love it.”

He smiles, bright and full, his laugh lines appearing at the corners of his eyes to strike me dumb. By the time I gather my wits once more, he’s gone.

When I emerge for my run a day later, Linc’s Tesla is parked in a different place than usual, and it isn’t Linc leaning casually on the hood in a black tank and shorts. He has stubble on his jaw, his dark hair–typically swept back to perfection–flopping charmingly over one eyebrow.

“Uh, hi,” I greet, jogging down my front steps. “What are you doing here, Declan?”

“Linc had a…thing.”

My lips twitch. “Was the thing being a decent brother and not fighting when you asked to take his place?”

He squints and looks away, feigning nonchalance. “Maybe.”

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