Page 43 of Declan

Because this isn’t just about sex.

It’s everything we’ve been trying not to feel, laid bare in the space between our bodies.

Declan’s eyes roam over me, dark and wild, his jaw clenched like he’s barely holding it together.

And God, the way he looks at me like I’m something sacred and sinful all at once makes my knees weak.

His hands slide up my thighs, slow and reverent, thumbs brushing the crease where my legs meet my hips, and I gasp.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, more to himself than to me.

His fingers skim up my sides, over my ribs, stopping just below my bra. I can feel the tremble in his hands, the war between restraint and desperation.

“Declan…” My voice is a breath, a plea.

He meets my eyes then, and what I see there steals the rest of my oxygen.

Hunger.

Need.

But also fear.

Not of me, but of what this means. What it breaks.

Still, he doesn’t stop.

He slides one strap of my bra off my shoulder, then the other, his fingers lingering against my skin. He reaches around and unclasps it, the fabric falling away between us.

The air hits my bare skin, and I tense, just for a second, but his eyes soften. His gaze drops to my chest, and he exhales like he’s witnessing something holy.

“Fuck, Lena,” he breathes, cupping my breasts in his hands. His thumbs graze over my nipples, and I cry out, my head falling forward into his chest.

He catches me, one hand moving to the small of my back as he guides me closer, grinding his thigh up against me again.

“I want to memorize every sound you make,” he whispers into my hair, “every way your body moves when I touch you.”

His mouth closes over my nipple, sucking it into his mouth while his hand rolls the other, and I lose all sense of time.

I moan, loud and unfiltered, grinding against his thigh, desperate for more friction. More of him.

“I’ve wanted this,” I pant, dragging my hands down his back, under his shirt. “I’ve needed this.”

He pulls back just enough to look me in the eyes, his breathing harsh, ragged.

“Then take it,” he says, voice rough as gravel. “Take all of me, Lena.”

I know he means it.

This isn’t just giving in.

It’s surrender.

He drops to his knees and pulls my black lace panties down with him. Before I have time to even savior the image of Declan on his knees in front of me, his mouth covers my pussy.

“Oh my God, yes!”

I don’t know if it’s my words or if he just loses totally control, but he attacks my pussy like a starving man who has just found food.

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