Page 47 of His to Protect

He slid his front paws forward, sticking his butt up in the air while he stretched, and then yawned as he reversed the move.

My hand covered my mouth as I fought my own yawn.

“Let me help you up the stairs,” Declan said. He guided me toward them before another yawn forced its way out of my mouth. “I’ll take care of Boomer once I’m done.”

I didn’t know what made me shiver—knowing he was taking care of me, or that he was also taking care of my dog. Boomer and I had lived a life surrounded by people for the last several years, yet it had been a lonely existence.

In a week, Declan managed to begin chipping at my walls of seclusion, forcing me to open up, and yet it hadn’t seemed forced at all. I was giving parts of myself to him freely, and I knew that whatever I gave him, whatever small pieces I felt comfortable sharing, he was taking care of them.

He was taking care of me, and he was taking care with the bits and pieces he was giving me.

It all left my body feeling energized. Wanting something.

And when was the last time I’d wanted anything except freedom?

“Declan?” I turned to face him as we reached the doorway to my bedroom.

“What is it?”

I swallowed my trepidation and my nerves. For once in my life, I was going to go after what I wanted.

What I desired.

Something good for me.

Consequences be damned.

I licked my lips and watched his eyes drop to follow the movement, and then I took a shaky step forward. “I want you to know,” I whispered, rolling onto my toes and placing one hand on his shoulder to steady myself, “that I want to explore this with you, too.”

Before he could respond, I brushed my lips against his cheek, tasting him for the very first time.

It was like what I imagined a first hit of heroin would be. Head-spinning.

I was even more unsteady as I let him go, rolling back off my toes.

I’d taken one step away when his arm snapped out and was at my back, pulling me flush against him.

“Can’t tease me with just a tiny taste like that, sweetheart.” One side of his lips curved up just as his mouth descended, slowly, giving me time to pull away. I didn’t.

I leaned closer, my breath coming in short, panted spurts.

“What do you want, then?” I whispered.

“Just a kiss. Just one more kiss.” His head tilted and his lips brushed against mine. I gasped on an inward breath at the delicious way his slightly unshaven beard scraped my heated skin. His lips were soft but firm, gentle but commanding. Then his lips pressed against mine more firmly.

And I was tasting him, the tip of his tongue brushing against mine. I was floating on the clouds, falling…flying.

“Declan,” I whispered, finding my hands gripping his waist.

A rush flowed through me. I savored every moment, every taste of him, and every touch of his tongue against mine.

It was the best kiss.

It was the best feeling in the world when a low groan slipped from his throat. I was affecting this large, powerful man.

I shivered, pressed myself more firmly against him. His hands at my back glided upward until they were clasped at the back of my neck.

I melted into him, loving the feel of his hands on me. So strong and possessive, yet so gentle. As if he knew exactly what I needed and wanted nothing more than to give it. To me.

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