As we step out of the greenhouse and blink up at the sun, Declan asks, “Where to next?”
I point toward the trail that will take us around the lake. “That way.”
Together, we walk hand in hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Declan asks me questions about different plants and I answer them, getting far too excited about topics like the difference between tropical and semi-tropical. He asks silly questions, half of which I’m sure are done purposefully to make me laugh.
Seriously, there is no way I willingly married someone who doesn’t know the difference between a succulent and a cactus. He seems confused about how all cacti are succulents but not all succulents are cacti, and I spend a good hour in the Arid Greenhouse with him, explaining everything I know about the different plants. Not once does he seem bored despite my nonstop chatter.
Declan, a man who doesn’t speak for longer than five-minute spans of time, spoke to me for hours. The idea makes me far giddier than it should.
It’s not until the sun begins to set that Declan steers us toward the exit.
“So, did you ever find them?”
“Who?”
I lift our interlocked hands in the air to remind him of our duty. “The reporter we came here to pretend in front of.”
“No.”
“I knew it! You can stop lying now.”
“Lying about what?”
“We didn’t come here so a reporter could see us, did we?”
His eyes lighten. “Why else would we come here?”
“Because you wanted to take me out on a date, but you didn’t want to admit it was that in the first place just in case I rejected you, so you made up this whole elaborate story so I wouldn’t ask questions.”
“Is narcissism genetic or is our child safe from that awful personality trait?”
The way he says “our child” sends a wave of something through me that I refuse to acknowledge. “Depends. If we’re going based on paternal history, they are screwed from the start.”
He reaches out and runs his thumb across my bottom lip. “Hopefully they inherit their mother’s selflessness instead.”
I officially raise the white flag as I stand on the tips of my toes and kiss him.
32
IRIS
We sit in silence during the entire drive back to the house. I’m not sure what to say, and Declan looks about one comment away from fucking me in his mom’s car, so I stay quiet.
My heart rate reaches a critical level by the time he drives into the garage, and I’m out of breath as he pulls me out of the car and straight into the house.
He moves so fast. One moment I’m blinking up at him, the next I’m being pushed up against a wall. My spine tingles from the momentum.
“Tell me what you want.” His crazed expression does something insane to my insides.
My heart thuds against my chest, my pulse thundering with each beat. I lose all ability to speak. The way he stares at me, with his jaw clenched and nostrils flaring with each ragged breath, makes me shiver.
“I’m not sure.”
He lets out a groan as he steps away.
I miss his warmth instantly. “Declan—” I reach out to touch him, but he grabs both my wrists and locks them above my head.
“You haven’t earned the right to touch me yet.”
“And you have?”
He traces the column of my neck with his free hand, and my whole body lights up like a firework. “I’m not scared to claim what’s mine.”
“I’m not afraid.” Not anymore. I’m done with the back and forth. The uncertainty is driving me crazy, and it isn’t fair to him. He planned a date for me and pretended it was a fake one just so I would go. I don’t think anyone has done something so sweet for me ever.
“Prove it then.” He releases my wrists.
“Strikhedonia.” I no doubt butcher the pronunciation, but it seems to draw a genuine smile from Declan nonetheless.
I wrap my hand around the back of his neck and drag his lips toward mine. Compared to our first kiss, Declan lets me take the lead. It’s tentative at first. Nothing but a few soft presses of my lips against his, each becoming progressively more desperate on my end. He doesn’t make a move to touch me, and my skin itches for connection. His silent challenge to prove how much I want him plays in the back of my mind as I trace his bottom lip with the edge of my tongue.
I never thought I would crave his touch as much as I do at this moment, and I find myself growing irritated with how much control he exudes over the situation.
That won’t do. The tips of my fingers tingle with the need to touch him everywhere. My hands grow bolder as I drag my fingers down his shirt, straight toward the bulge beneath his pants. He releases a shuddery breath as I trace the outline of his length. I use the opportunity to tease his tongue with mine, and the results are miraculous.
He groans as his palm finds the back of my neck, locking me in place as he ravishes my mouth. I rub the palm of my hand against his cock. His kissing grows more uncontrolled as I make quick work of undoing his belt and zipper. Our tongues tangle together, stifling his moan as I slip a hand inside his pants. He sucks in a breath as I trace the tip of his cock. I swipe at the bead of arousal with my thumb before rubbing it in circles across his head.
He bites down on my bottom lip, drawing a metallic taste in my mouth.
I giggle to myself as I withdraw my hand and pull back. “How was that for proof?”
The hand around the back of my neck tightens, and his thumb presses against my thundering pulse point. His chest rises and falls with each ragged breath. Goosebumps spread across my skin as he opens his blown-out eyes and turns them on me.
“I’m not entirely convinced.”
My lips part. “You’re so full of—”
I’m cut off as he hauls me over his shoulder, stealing me before I ever have a chance to run.
“Are you kidding me? We’re back to this again?” I pound my fists against his back.
He turns toward the stairs. “I want to conduct a more thorough observation.”
“Are you insane?”
“When it comes to you, that was never a question.”
I laugh as he carries me up the million steps. “You know I can walk right?”
“Acutely. That doesn’t mean I’ll let you.”
I laugh. “Why not?”
“You’re a flight risk.”
“Am not!”
“If I had it my way, you would wear an ankle monitor so I could always know where you are.”
My eyes widen. “That is absolutely terrifying.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve already looked into GPS chips for our child.”
Our child. Those two words seem to have my heart in a chokehold today.
“Thinking about becoming a father often?” I ask with a shaky voice.
“More than I should.”
The idea of him considering fatherhood doesn’t scare me as much as it should. I knew what I was getting into when I signed the deal, but it seems like such a contrast compared to the man who needed to be manipulated into shared custody rights.
Oh, Iris. What are you going to do now?
Declan seems to answer for me as he passes by my room without stopping. I cling to his shirt with sweaty palms, desperate for something to ground me as we enter his room.