Page 83 of Declan

Either way, she’s mine, and there’s no fucking way I will let her go.

The table is set to perfection; crystal glasses sit next to the fine china, and at the centre of the table, there is a bottle of Chianti Classico that I just opened earlier to let it breathe. The room is enveloped by the scent of the homemade lasagna Rose made using an Italian recipe she asked an old friend for.

I don’t know why I feel like a teen on a first date, but my heart is pounding in my fucking ears. I hear the heels clicking on the floor. I’d recognize the way she walks anywhere.

Why the fuck did I keep that information? I don’t have the slightest idea, but for some reason, every detail of her—how shewalks, talks, dresses, and thinks—interests me in a way no one ever has before. I’m fucking addicted to her.

She enters the room, and my bloody heart stops as my cock stands and salutes; my blood rushes south. Before I can even say a word, Viviana appears in another stunning, sexy-as-fuck black dress that hugs every curve of her body to perfection. It’s so damn short that if she bends over, I’ll have a better view than the Empire State Building.

Black heels, dark-toned eyes, and deep-red lips. This fucking vixen came ready to drive me insane. She looks like a goddess here to take my soul, and I’d gladly give it to her.

“You look like the Queen of Darkness,” I say, my fucking voice faltering. Her lips curl slightly up—she caught it. Pulling her chair out for her, I whisper, “You and those goddamn black dresses will be the death of me.” Her lips twitch, a proud look on her face.

“I’m glad you like them,” she teases.

I head to my seat, trying to look cool and collected as my cock strains against the zipper, screaming for release.

Later, mate. Later.

I pour some ruby-red wine into her glass and mine. “A little taste of Tuscany,” I murmur, raising my glass to meet hers.

She takes a sip, her fingers delicate around the stem, and for a moment, her shoulders ease. The wine brings colour to her cheeks, and though her eyes are still heavy with worry, I catch a glimmer of the woman who walked into my life with fire in her veins.

We eat mostly in silence, the sound of the fork on the plate being the only thing cutting through it. I glance at her. She isn’t here; she’s stuck somewhere in her mind—some hell she created because of her father, because of me—and now she can’t get out.

I don’t fucking know how to drag her back to me.

“Vi, is everything okay?” I finally ask, keeping my voice steady and warm, inviting her to open up to me.

Her head lifts, and she gives me a small, sad smile, one I haven’t seen before. It makes my hand tighten around the wine glass. “I haven’t been sleeping too well. I feel a little tired, that’s all,” she says, her voice collected but distant.

I know better. She’s been waking up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, trembling. I hold her every time, but it feels like it’s never enough.

“Can I do anything?” My voice is soft, but there’s an edge of desperation. I need her to let me do something, anything, to ease her mind.

She shakes her head and reaches for the wine, pouring herself another glass. Her cheeks are growing redder, and so is the tip of her nose. Her shoulders start to relax, finally letting go of some of that tension. Good. At least for now, maybe she can enjoy the rest of the night.

The room feels hotter by the second. I don’t know if it’s the wine, the fireplace crackling softly in the background, or just Viviana herself. I roll up my sleeves, unbuttoning the top two buttons of my shirt as I take a deep breath.

When I lift my eyes from my dish, I catch her staring. Her gaze travels over my arms, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

My lips curl into a smirk. “Like what you see?”

She tilts her head, eyes trailing lazily over my chest. Her lips twist into a devilish smile, one that sends fire straight through me. “You mean, do I like what I own?” she purrs.

Oh, fucking hell.

“What do you own, huh?” I lean back in my chair and take a slow sip of wine, keeping my eyes locked on my wife.

Viviana doesn’t answer. Instead, she pushes her chair away from the table, her legs parting just enough to tease me. Notenough to see her panties, but enough to make me lose any coherent thought. My mind checks out as my cock takes over.

I’m on my feet before I even realize it, grabbing the bottle of wine as I step closer to her. Towering over her, I watch as her hand drifts toward my cock, which is fighting against my pants, ready to break free for hours.

I grab her wrist, stopping her, my grip firm but gentle. “This night is all for you, firecracker,” I say, swallowing the urge to fuck her mouth. Then I kneel in front of her, setting the bottle on the table as her lips part slightly, a challenge sparking in her eyes.

My hand travels from her calves to her thighs, and she shivers under my touch. I lean in and kiss her leg, licking until I reach her dress. Her breath catches, her eyes full of want—of need.

I slide my hands under her dress, fingers tracing the curve of her thighs until I reach the edge of her underwear. Black lace panties. Fuck. I pull them down slowly, savouring the way the fabric slides over her skin. Once free, I tuck them into my suit pants pocket. She raises an eyebrow, her expression daring me to continue.

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