I remembered exactly what I’d been talking about. “Declan—”
“No. Jill, don’t say anything.”
This was coming totally out of left field. I was ready to question him, but I couldn’t say anything because he stood up, pulled me against him . . . and kissed me.
I’d kissed him a couple of times since he’d been shot full of the permanent serum, searching for a response, and was disappointed when I didn’t get one. This time he’d initiated it; he was kissing me. And I was responding. Earlier I’d decided on a cool shower, but the heat of Declan’s kiss warmed me up immediately.
“Do you think . . . you can . . . ?” I whispered against his lips, not wanting to finish the sentence.
“This isn’t about me, Jill. This is about you. That is . . . if you want this to happen.” He held my face between his hands. “Say yes.”
“Yes,” I said, without thinking twice.
When he kissed me this time, he picked me up and carried me to the bed.
I locked my arms around his neck. “My hair’s wet.”
“Do you care?”
I grinned. “Not really.”
He placed me gently down on the bed and began kissing down my throat, filling his hands with my br**sts. I could barely believe this was happening. A potential solution to my Nightshade troubles earlier. An experimental Declan now. This could all be a dream.
It didn’t feel like a dream. It felt real. And I didn’t want to question it a second longer.
Grasping the edge of my tank top, he pulled it up, skimming it over my skin. I wasn’t wearing a bra underneath, which saved some time. I gasped out loud as his mouth closed over my right nipple and he slid his tongue around it in a hot, wet circle.
He looked up at me. “Let me know if I’m doing this right.”
I struggled to breathe normally, but it came out like a needy moan. “So far, so good.”
He moved to the other side, making me shiver, goose bumps breaking out along my skin. I helped him to peel my top off over my head, then squeezed my eyes shut.
Experimenting with Declan was a very good idea. I was so very glad I’d thought of it.
When he kissed me again, sweeping his tongue against mine, I pulled at his black T-shirt, sliding my hands under to feel his skin beneath, down over his hard, rippled abdomen. I started to unbutton his jeans and slide the zipper down, but he grasped my wrist to stop me.
“No, Jill.”
I looked up at him with surprise. “Why not?”
“I already told you, this isn’t about me.”
“I want to touch you.”
He pulled my hands away from him and raised them up above my head. “If you can’t play by the rules, then this game will have to end.”
He was easily strong enough to keep me pinned, but his grip on me was loose enough that I could have broken it if I wanted to. “I’m not sure I like those rules.”
He moved his mouth to my ear, and my bare br**sts flattened against his T-shirt-covered chest. “I want to make you happy, Jill.”
I believed him. His expression held no fire to match what I was feeling, but rather, endless sincerity. He couldn’t make love to me, not completely—not the way I wanted—but he still wanted me to be happy after what he’d overheard Jackson say to me.
Jackson had offered me no-strings-attached sex.
I’d said no because I wasn’t attracted to him. I didn’t want a quick lay, and I didn’t want Jackson. I wanted more than that, even though I knew that wanting more would only leave me frustrated.
Declan wanted to take away some of that frustration. Here. Now.