Page 94 of The Bossy One

“I’m such a fucking eejit,” I muttered.

Yes, I wanted Olivia to understand me, and that meant I wanted her to understand I was absolutely right to hate and distrust the O’Rourkes. But did that truly have to come between us? She was the only woman who’d ever turned me inside out like this, and I had less than a month left with her.

Was I really going to spend it brooding alone on a cold balcony, when I could be in a warm bed with Olivia, driving us both mad with pleasure?

“Fuck that,” I said decisively. I tossed the rest of my whiskey back.

And then I went to go seduce my woman.

30

OLIVIA

Irolled over for the millionth time, trying in vain to find sleep. I should be nothing but happy. Declan and I had found a way to shift into something like friendship with each other. My time with Catie was a resounding success. Prague was amazing. And I was about to become a published author.

Instead, all I felt was this gnawing emptiness. I was so aware of my body. Almost as aware as I was of Declan’s body, probably slumbering soundly on the other side of the wall.

Someone knocked on my door.

I sat up, clutching the blankets to my chest. I’d tossed my dress on the chair in the corner, and crawled into bed in nothing but my panties.

“Olivia,” Declan called softly through the door.

God, I loved the way he said my name.

“I need you,” he said, his voice low and rich.

I shivered, then scolded myself. He didn’t mean he needed me likethat.He probably meant it in a professional way. In a friendly way.

“I’m coming.” I scrambled out of bed and pulled a camisole on. Then I wrapped myself in one of the hotel’s bathrobes.

I opened up the door and tilted my head up to look at him. His eyes were dark, and he was looking at me the way he had for a few heated moments at dinner.

He was looking at me the way he did when he was pounding into me, claiming me as his.

I swallowed, my mouth dry. “Declan, what do you need—”

He cut me off with a kiss. His mouth was like water in the desert, and I breathed him in, so damn grateful it hurt. He tasted like coming home, and dangerous decisions, andhim.

I broke away. “Declan. We can’t.”

But we can, I thought.We must.

He followed me into my room and closed the door behind him. That closed door felt like a delicious promise I wasn’t strong enough to resist.

But I tried. “You wanted a break.”

“I was an arse.” Declan closed the distance between us, cradling my face in one of his hands. The warmth of his skin seeped into mine, gentle tendrils of fire finding their way deep into my core. “I don’t need us to agree on everything. I don’t need to know where this is going. I just need to touch you.”

I needed to touch him too. I pressed my palms to his chest, telling myself I’d shove him away any second now. But I knew that was a lie. Resistance was futile.

“Why waste what time we have left?” he asked. His lips found my temple, then the spot behind my ear, then the sensitive curve of my neck.

My breath skittered, and I clutched at his shirt. My fingers twitched as I felt the buttons against my knuckles, the urge to feel his naked chest under my palms threatening to overwhelm me. “Declan, we have real disagreements. We see the world differently. We can’t pretend that doesn’t matter just because we miss the sex.”

“Of course, we can,” he said and laughed into my neck. He palmed my ass, bringing me to my toes and pressing me against his hardness. And dear God…he was so damn hard. “It was fucking good sex.”

The words were crude and so was his touch. It made me feel bold, wicked, wanted. And that was it—I abandoned any pretense of resistance and surrendered to him. I closed my eyes, the thrumming of my heart like that of a war drum, and melted into him. My lips found his, and I kissed him back, losing myself in his scent, his touch, his taste. This time he was the one to break the kiss, but it was only to guide me backward onto the bed.

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