Page 53 of Allure

“How does the loaded mouse sound?” Declan asks as Kyle hands me the dessert menu.

It's the last option listed. Peanut butter mousse with toasted peanuts, peanut-butter-covered pretzels, brownie bites, and whipped cream.

That does sound divine, but I’m starting to wonder if this is a spot where Declan takes all of his girls. He’s been training at Rumble Dojo for years and years, working there, so he’s from the area. This very well could be his local haunt.

It shouldn't make jealousy burn inside me, but it does, for whatever reason, and I can't bring myself to commit or not.

“We’ll take it,” Declan declares. “Whatever we don’t finish, I can take it home with me, or you can have it. How does that sound?”

“That works.”

“Which option?” he asks, and I force myself to meet his gaze. His light brown eyes look like melted pools I could get lost in.

What had he asked?

“Doesn’t much matter, does it?”

"Nothing much matters," he agrees, but his eyes disagree.

As it turns out, I take one bite of the dessert, and I’m moaning again. I’m careful to only eat my half, although Declan is a perfect gentleman and offers to let me have more than my fair share.

Soon enough, we’ve polished the entire dessert off and just need the check from Kyle.

“Do you want to head to my place?” Declan asks nonchalantly.

His tone, the way he’s not looking at me now all of a sudden… has he changed his mind? Gotten cold feet?

“I have mats,” he continues. “We can grapple. Try to work off some of this heavy meal.”

Grappling. Me flat on my back, working to get my legs around him. Maybe letting our pelvises touch "accidentally."

“I could go for that. A little bit of exercise never hurts any, right?” I murmur.

“Never,” he echoes, and there are those hungry eyes of his again.

He pays, and we leave, heading back to campus. The freshmen guys’ form is called Thorn House. I still find it hard to believe he’s a freshman.

Declan parks right up front, and the few guys walking past all wave to him.

As soon as he turns off the car, I open the door. This isn’t a date. There’s no need for him to open my door for me. No mixed signals. None.

Still, we walk rather close together as we head to the elevator. His dorm is on the third floor, number 301, as it turns out.

“You have mats in the college dorm?” I blurt out.

“Ideal? No, but having a limited space to fight will make you a stronger fighter because everything you do must have a purpose behind it, or else you’ll be backed into a corner with nowhere to turn.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I murmur.

He not only shuts the door behind us, but he locks it too. I almost wonder if he put a tie on the knob or something to let his roommate know not to come in. Who knows? Maybe Declan’s into being watched.

Or maybe I’m getting my hopes up. He wants to grapple.

Or is thatgrapple?

With a start, I take in my jean miniskirt and tank top. I used some concealer to hide the slowly fading bruise from the gun.

“I didn’t grab my clothes from the backseat,” I mumble.

---