Page 61 of Killaney Blood
I nod and walk toward the shower, wanting the hot water to wash away the evidence of what we've done, but not the memory. Not the feeling of him inside me, claiming me, breaking through defenses I thought impenetrable.
And then I stop.
Why?
Why do I have to do that? If he wants to stay after all that, then I'm just acting like an idiot, or being stubborn, and right now I can't tell the difference.
"Hey," I stop and turn to him. "Do you, like, I don't know, want to shower with me?"
He smiles and walks over and picks me up. I squeal with happiness.
"Abso-fucking-lutely."
19
DECLAN
Amuffled buzzing pulls me from sleep. I crack one eye open, disoriented. Unfamiliar ceiling. Unfamiliar bed. The weight of a warm body pressed against my side.
It takes me a second to realize where I am: Lyra's bed, her sheets tangled around me, her scent embedded into the pillow beside me.
The events of last night flood back. Her mouth. Her body. The way she came apart around me, screaming my name. The shower after, where I take her again, slower this time, with her back against the tile.
She's curled against me now.
She's curled on her side, back to me, bare shoulder peeking out from beneath the blanket. Her dark hair spilling across the pillow. Her breathing is soft. Peaceful.
She's beautiful in a way that makes my chest tight.
I'm fucked. Completely fucked.
The noise comes again. A buzz. More insistent now. Low, constant.
I sit up, rubbing my eyes. It's not in here. It's coming from the living room.
My phone.
I left it in the living room with my clothes.
"Shit," I say quietly, as I slide out of bed, pausing when she stirs. She mumbles something unintelligible and rolls over, still deeply asleep. I pull the blanket over her shoulder, allowing myself one more moment to look at her before stepping into the hallway.
My clothes are in a pile on her living room floor. I grab my phone from my jacket pocket just as it stops vibrating, only to start again immediately.
Shane.
"What is it?" I keep my voice low, glancing back toward the bedroom.
"Boss, we got a situation." Shane's voice is urgent. "Another hit on one of our warehouses."
I tense, making a fist. "How bad?"
"Same as before. Everything destroyed, nothing taken."
Motherfucker.
"Was there a feather?"
"Spray-painted on the outside wall. Big as a fucking billboard this time."
