Page 33 of Declan

His scent is everywhere...

“Looking for something?” A deep voice cuts through the air, making me jump.

Declan leans against the closet door, dressed in just sweatpants. His torso is a canvas of ink, the shadows of his tattoos shifting with each breath. His arms are crossed over his chest, muscles tense, making him look even larger. A tattooed snake winds down his forearm, leading to his hand, where veins ripple beneath the skin, pulsing with raw energy.

My eyes trace the path of ink, following it like a secret invitation, my pulse quickening as his hand flexes—powerful and tempting. His abs tense, vibrating like he just finished a workout.

“This is your room,” I whisper, more to myself than to him.

“Our room,” he corrects, his eyes trailing over my body, not even trying to hide the way they darken. “At least for now.”

I realize I’m only wearing a baggy T-shirt long enough to graze my thighs, and his devilish smirk makes my body shiver.

“You don’t trust me enough to let me stay in the old room,” I murmur, though it’s not a question.

“I don’t trust anyone, firecracker.” His arms drop to his sides as he steps closer.

“Except your brothers,” I say, meeting his gaze. Again, it’s not a question.

“Except them.” He takes another step closer, his eyes locked on mine.

My body shudders at his proximity, heat radiating between us. My breath catches in my throat as he leans in just enough for his scent to fill the space between us.

“So, Viv,” his voice drops to a low, rough whisper that sends a shiver down my spine. His arm stretches out, fingers barely grazing my skin as they trail down my arm—a feather-light touch that leaves a tingling path in its wake. “Are you looking for something?” The words roll off his tongue slowly, every syllable thick with intent, making my pulse race.

I can feel the heat rising from my skin, my pulse quickening. Declan stands there, every inch of him sculpted, as if crafted by the hands of goddesses. His chiselled jaw is tight, lips slightly parted, and his eyes… devouring me. There’s something new in them, something dark and dangerous—lust, desire, maybe both. The air between us crackles, thick with unspoken temptation.

“I’m not looking for anything,” I manage to say, my voice uneven, desperate to shatter the tension before it consumes me. I step forward, determined to brush past him, but the proximity makes my resolve falter.

Every fibre of my being screams to escape, to shake off whatever pull he has on me before I lose control—before I do something reckless, something I can’t take back, something I need.

My heart pounds against my chest, and I fight to rein in the rush of feelings threatening to overwhelm me. I can’t let my emotions, or worse, my desire, take over.

But the moment I try to slip past him, Declan moves, swift and deliberate, like a predator closing in. His tattooed arm surrounds my waist, pulling me back against him. I stifle a breath, fighting for air at the motion. Before I can react, he spins me and pins me to the wall, each of his muscled arms caging me.

He grips my wrists, lifting them above my head as he leans forward. I feel the way his hand tightens around my wrists—there’s no way out of his grip, and that makes me feel things… things I can’t explain or things I don’t want to explain to myself.

While locking my wrists in his grip, he presses them against the wall. His dominance sends a shiver down my spine. The other hand moves up slowly, tracing the curve of my shoulder as if savouring the sensation of my skin under his fingers.

His touch is deliberate and teasing, making me hyperaware of every inch he explores. He trails his fingers to the base of myneck, pressing lightly, just enough to send a thrill through me— a warning of his power.

His thumb slides gently over my collarbone, lowering over my body until it reaches my breast. Though he avoids my nipple, the sensation makes me bite the inside of my cheek to keep from making any sound. My chest rises and falls against his as he looks down at me, his eyes darkening with desire.

His body presses harder against mine, heat radiating from him like an inferno. The hard planes of his chest are flush against me, his hips pinning me in place. I feel the unmistakable pressure of his cock against my stomach.

His free hand moves lower, over the curve of my waist, his fingers brushing the side of my hips before trailing toward my inner thigh. Each touch sends shivers down my spine. My body vibrates under his, trying to suppress the whimpers threatening to escape. I press my legs together, but he forces them open with a swift move of his foot, his fingers digging into my skin.

“Don’t do that,” he growls, his voice deep and controlled, as though he’s enjoying the struggle.

How is he so in control when I’m barely holding on?

“Declan,” I gasp, the word slipping out before I can stop it.

His name barely escapes my lips, lost in the haze of desire as my body trembles under his dominance.

“What is it, firecracker?” he murmurs, his voice a sultry whisper that sends a shiver racing down my spine. His teeth graze my earlobe slowly, igniting a heat deep inside me.

“Do I make you uncomfortable? Or maybe wet?” A devilish smile curls his lips, his eyes gleaming with predatory lust.

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