Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Harper returns balancing a plate the size of a dinner platter. The slice of dark chocolate cake towers in the middle, glossy with ganache and crowned with dark chocolate shavings.
“Enjoy,” she says, sliding it between us with a wink before disappearing again.
I blink at the mountain of chocolate. “Okay, fine,” I admit. “I might need your assistance.”
Declan’s smoldering eyes are pure sin. “Told you.” He nods for me to take the first bite.
I dig my fork into the side closest to me. The rich chocolate scent hits first—warm, indulgent, sinful. Eyes locked on Declan, I slip the fork into my mouth and can’t help the small sound that escapes when the sweet, velvety flavor hits my tongue.
“Good, right?” Declan asks, watching me instead of tasting the cake.
I nod, swallowing. “Dangerously delicious.”
He hums low in his throat, slides the fork back into the cake, and offers me another bite—his bite this time. I should shake my head, insist that he try it, but instead I part my lips and let him guide the cake closer.
His gaze lingers on my lips as he takes the fork away. He drags his fork through the first layer, lifting a bite to his mouth. I can’t stop thinking about his hands all over me last night and now his sensual mouth and what it can do to my body.
But I’m too chicken to say anything so I eat the cake and keep my dirty thoughts to myself. After a few more bites, my stomach’s organizing a protest.
“I’ll explode if I eat another bite.” I push the heavy slice of chocolate cake toward Declan.
He drags his fork through the thick frosting and lifts it to his lips. “As good as it is…” He pauses to slick his tongue along his lower lip, gaze locked on mine. “I’d rather lick you. All over. Until you scream my name. Several times.”
Without breaking eye contact, he licks the frosting off the tines.
Heat rolls through me, dizzying in its intensity. I rest my elbows on the table and lean forward, lowering my voice. “Are you trying to demonstrate your skills by tonguing that fork?”
His lips curve into a slow, wicked smile. “Is it working?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He sets the fork down with a solid clink and raises a finger to signal Harper for the check.
Under the table, I press my knees together, trying to quiet the pulse between my thighs. He leans in just enough for his next words to caress my skin.
“Come back to my apartment with me.” His voice lands somewhere between a command and a question.
My breath stutters. I open my mouth to immediately scream yes, then hesitate. “Is this about protecting me from the Rider?” I flick my gaze to the half-eaten cake. “Or finishing what you’ve started?”
“Can it be both?” His expression stays serious, but his eyes burn with intent. “With an emphasis on getting my mouth all over you.”
I stand so fast, I almost knock over my chair. “That works for me.”
A low rumble shakes the window, followed by the soft hiss of rain against glass. The downpour builds fast—sheets of water slithering down the panes, thunder distant but moving closer.
Both of us glance out at the storm.
“We’re going to get soaked.” I frown into the dark night, the glass so covered with water, I can’t see anything beyond.
He stands and pulls out his wallet. “Rain or not, you’re going to be soaked in the next fifteen minutes anyway.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Declan
Harper hurries over with a white cardboard box and the check. I’m one breath away from tossing every bill in my wallet on the table, grabbing Emery, and sprinting for the door.
Emery watches Harper fold the lid over the cake, her eyes wide and pleading, like she’s silently begging the woman to move faster. Her fingers twist around her napkin, the same way mine itch for her skin.
“Here you go,” Harper chirps, sliding the box toward me.
“Thanks.” I glance at the check, drop enough bills on the table to cover the tab and a hefty tip, and shove my wallet back into my pocket.
Rain hammers against the windows, blurring the street into nothing more than streaks of light.
I stand and take Emery’s hand. “Hey, Harper?” I call out before she disappears behind the bar. “It’s pouring out. Think your dad would mind if we cut through the back?”
Harper sweeps her gaze over us, her eyes lingering on our interlocked hands. Her brows pinch together for a brief second, then she forces a bright smile. “Of course not. Go ahead.”
I grab the cake, Emery grabs her bag, and we bolt.
The scent of coffee and cinnamon permeates the back hallway, and by the time I push the door open, rain has turned the parking lot into a silver haze.
“Ready?” I ask.
She eyes the freezing rain, her lips wobbling into a brave smile. “Let’s do it.”