Page 123 of Starting Over

How many fucking calls could he have in one day? It’s not like Boston, where you heard sirens every two minutes. This was Nebraska. What could possibly have him out all goddamn day?

It was after nine o’clock when Tucker lifted his head and whimpered. He didn’t move until I heard the vehicle outside my door. Tucker barked once and jumped down, rushing to the door.

I knew who was here. Tucker had adjusted to Declan in less time than it took me to, that was for sure. He paced at the front door, waiting for the knock. When the doorknob rattled, I shook my head.

A light knock sounded, and I stood from my spot. Taking my time walking to the door, I thought about everything I wanted to say to him. All the thoughts that ran through my head all day. The worries about where he was, and what he was doing. The fear that something had happened to him.

But when I opened the door and saw him standing there, all I saw was a distraught man. The weight of the world seemed to press down on his shoulders, slumping his posture and etching lines of worry onto his face. His eyes didn’t shine when he looked at me. They were haunted. Like what he had dealt with today had broken him.

“What happened?”

I pulled him inside and closed the door. He gathered me in his arms and buried his face in my neck.

“It’s been a long fucking day, and I will tell you all about it, but right now, I just need to be inside you.”

He took my mouth like a starving man. He lifted me in his arms, and my legs went around his waist. He didn’t hesitate to walk me to my room and lay me on the bed.

“Stay there,” he commanded. Then walked out of the room.

I heard him talking to the dog for a moment before he returned, closing the door behind him. Declan sat on the chairin the corner and removed his boots. Standing, he removed his shirt and jeans, and I just watched.

I was completely captivated, my gaze locked on the man before me, his every move mesmerizing. My gaze traveled down until, just like last night, I stared at his hand as he stroked himself.

Biting my lip, I looked up when I heard him groan. What I saw in his eyes was a hunger like I had never experienced. His gaze paralyzed me. As his eyes roamed over my body, I felt every look. He eyed me like I was his prey.

Whatever happened today affected him. It made him angry. It made him rage. He needed an outlet for that, and I was ready to give it to him.

My pussy throbbed with anticipation for the release he needed. I could feel the moisture dripping, preparing me for the onslaught of emotions he needed to dispel.

He didn’t move closer. He just stood there, stroking the rigid flesh in his hand. His eyes held a question I wasn’t sure he was even aware he was asking. But I knew what he needed.

I crawled to the end of the bed, climbed down, and stood before him. My hands ran up his chest, over the taut muscles. They rippled beneath my fingertips, caused by the strain of him holding back.

I didn’t want him holding back. I wanted him to give up his control. To me. I wanted to be the haven for his surrender.

Pushing him back to the chair, he sat. I removed his hand from his cock and placed them on the arms of the chair.

“Don’t move,” I whispered.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Declan

When I pulled up to Maureen’s house it was dark, except for the glow of what I knew was the fireplace. Shutting off the engine, I wearily climbed out and walked to the front door.

I tried to turn the knob, only to find it locked. Closing my eyes, I leaned my head against the door. She was pissed. I knew it might be a possibility. Martha told me she had called numerous times. When I got back to the Powell’s house, my cell started going off with all the texts she had sent me.

I should have called her immediately. I should have made sure someone had let her know where I was and what I was doing. I had asked her to meet me for lunch, then I didn’t show.

I could chalk it up to not being used to having someone to answer to, someone to worry about me. But that was a bullshit excuse. I didn’t make excuses. I owned my fuck ups.

When I heard Tucker whining at the door, I knew she was still up. I didn’t say a word, waiting to see if she would let me in.

When the door opened, there was so much I wanted to say, but words were lost to me seeing her standing there. She was home. I didn’t mean I that in a‘I thought she would be out’kind of way.

She was my home.

She was my refuge.

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