Page 36 of Bargain with the Irish Devil

Wet heat floods my core as I taste it on my tongue, allowing the fork to slide out. A glass shatters too close, yanking us both out of the moment. Face flaming, I don’t know how I don’t choke on the bite. It’s good, so good a hum comes from me as I lick my lips to get the slightest speck of flavor that might be left behind.

“Jesus, woman, the shit you do to me without even trying,” Declan murmurs as he swallows his water.

An odd sensation of pride fills me. I’m used to men looking through me, even before I met Michael. Being fat in college was painful. If I was lucky, they looked through me, but morecommonly, when it came to stupid college boys and the one in high school, they taunted and bullied me. I’ve heard the moos, the oinks, and been called fat a thousand different ways. It was even worse when they were interested in me and urged me to lose weight because Icouldbe so pretty if I just lost fifty pounds.

Yet this gorgeous man finds me sexy exactly as I am. Is lusting overmybody, cellulite and all.

I finally manage to swallow. “Delicious.”

He shakes his head. “It’s good, but your cunny tasted better.”

“Declan.” I glance around to see if anyone heard him.

All he does is wink at me as he chuckles.

Since we’ve already discussed the boring general things, he wanted to know my favorite restaurants in the city and what I liked at each place.

“I’m impressed. You managed to finish your wine at the same time as your meal. This indicates a very controlled and careful personality. Are you going to allow yourself dessert, I wonder?”

It’s so freaking annoying how easily he reads me. I shake my head. “No dessert for me.”

The waiter is back to ask about dessert or if we want anything else. “We’ll have a selection of mini tarts. And another two crab cakes for a late-night snack. She loved them.”

“I said no dessert. I’m not eating them.” I warn him.

He rolls his eyes. “I love your body, it’s sexy as fuck. You’re going to forget about how many calories are in what you had tonight and enjoy a tart.”

“Did you come into the world bossy, or is it because of what you do?” I wonder aloud.

His grin is wicked, with his dimples deep. “I’m told it was from the womb. Do not be complaining when deep down you like it.”

“Excuse me? I don’t like it.”

Laughing, he shakes his head. “Did you come out of the womb a liar? Is it built into your DNA, like with your brother? It turns you wet as hell. It’s nothing to be ashamed about, nor is it uncommon. For too long you had to take care of others, to be the responsible one. When someone doesn’t give you a choice—as long as it’s not about only getting what they want—you want to give up to them. Not much different from the restraints waiting for you.”

I want to tell him he’s wrong. I want to tell him there’s no way in hell I’ll willingly let him tie me up. But I can’t. “I thought Jung wasn’t one for you Irish?”

“Allowances are made from time to time.” He grins.

Setting down a large platter that contained several different tiny tarts, the waiter grins at me. “They’re delicious.”

The idea of eating them seemed absurd. There were two of each: a lemon tart, a fruit tart, a chocolate tart, and a cheesecake tart with a thin strawberry on top. “They’re too pretty to eat.”

“Something so pretty should not go unappreciated.” His eyes are on my lips.

I give in and reach for the chocolate tart. It is a creamy, delicately sweet velvet dream of chocolate. Licking my lips, I watch his jaw clench.

An alert comes from his phone, breaking the moment, and I’m not sure if I’m glad or not. His whole face changes.

“What’s the matter?”

His sigh is heavy. “We have to go. Now.”

A hand goes up for the waiter. “The check and tarts to go immediately. Let the valet know.”

He nods. “Yes, sir.”

Declan is typing out a response to the text. “I’m sorry, love. Colm is on his way. He’ll get you home.”

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