Page 28 of Declan

“Wife,“ he calmly retorts.

“Stop calling me that,” I exclaim, attempting to shake his hand from my neck, but he only tightens his grip and jerks me a little closer, pressing his face right into my ear and chuckling softly, the dark undertones not lost on me. I shiver in response.

Then, he says, “Wife.”

And it’s back.

This feeling must be what they were referring to in those old cheesy historical romance novels when they said, ‘Heated loins.’ Because my loins are on fire.

I bite back a moan, but it’s too late. The sound that falls from his lips in response is a cross between a gasp and a whimper. I don’t know that I’ve ever heard a man whimper before, and holy mother of god, I want him to do it again.

In all my years, I’ve never known this level of disconnecting confusion between my brain and my body, and I’m starting to understand the power of impulsivity and raging hormones. How you can dislike someone with every fiber of your being but still want to mount them like an animal.

My hand moves of its own volition until it’s resting on top of his thigh. He freezes, and as I slide my hand higher, his breath catches, and he whispers, “What are you doin’, darlin’?”

“I have no idea,” I whisper back, unsure of what I’m doing but also unsure if I want to stop.

I’m saved from having to decide one way or another as he places his free hand on top of mine, stopping my upward movement along his thigh. He presses down, squeezing gently before lifting my hand and moving it back to my own lap. He doesn’t release me immediately; instead, he sits there, holding my hand as the hand he has on my neck slowly slides down my back. He lets out a growling sigh against my ear, then places a soft kiss on my jawline before releasing me and sliding over on the seat, putting a few inches between us.

I give him a questioning look, and his lips curve up into a soft smile that only accentuates the heated hunger in his eyes as he says, “I won’t take you until you’re ready, Issa. And it won’t be in the back of a limousine.”

My mouth drops open, my eyes widening at his words. “Who says I’ll ever be ready?”

His smile broadens, and some of that heat is replaced by humor as he replies, “Your body tells me everything I need to know. I just have to be patient and wait for your mind to catch up. And then your heart.”

He winks, then looks out the window, shifting his body so he’s partially turned away from me. I search for something to say, but I come up with nothing. I have so many different emotions vying for dominance inside me that I can’t decide which one to focus on. Anger. Sadness. Confusion. And now, just to add insult to injury, I find myself incredibly fucking horny, of all things.

This isn’t good. This is really fucking bad.

I glance over at Declan, who is still turned slightly away from me with that same amused yet smug look on his face. It has me narrowing my eyes, and I focus on my annoyance at this completely ludicrous situation.

I’m fake married to a rock star.

Holy shit.

11

A Tempting Conundrum

Issa

Declanrefusestotellme where we’re going, and after a while, we end up at a secluded airstrip. It appears we went on a long drive just so I could have a nap on him, and I can’t decide if this is annoying, adorable, or maybe just annoyingly adorable.

Mostly, it’s incredibly confusing, given what I thought I knew about the man.

Declan’s personal jet is waiting for us, leading me to believe he planned the long drive, but when I ask him, he just smiles at me and shrugs, reminding me how entirely infuriating he is.

We have some refreshments, and then we settle in on the L-shaped sofa at the back of the plane, and suddenly, despite my nap, I’m exhausted. I grab a blanket and a pillow and move to lie down, but he takes the pillow from me and tosses it to the side.

I raise my brows at him questioningly, and he lifts his arm, indicating I should once again utilize him as my pillow. I’m hesitant, remembering all too clearly what just happened, but he narrows his eyes at me and makes a ‘come here’ motion with his still-raised hand.

I snort and mutter to myself as I position myself close to him, but this time, instead of sprawling across his front, I press my back against his side, pulling his arm down across me like a seatbelt, my head cradled against his shoulder.

I never knew I had a thing for cuddling and personal touch, but honestly, this isn’t so bad. I squirm around, getting comfortable as his arm tightens around me and his lips press against the top of my head, bringing back that warmth inside me that has me grimacing inwardly.

After a few moments, I relax into him, and my eyes feel heavy. Then, after a few more moments go by, I allow them to close.

And I sleep.

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