Page 28 of See You Maybe

Olivia’s thighs fell apart, and she bit back a sharp cry as a second and then third finger joined to stroke and twist, curling inside, driving her insane. Olivia’s body tightened into a coil. “Declan… yes. Oh my god…”

His thumb pressed against her clit, and she exploded. Declan swallowed her scream in a kiss, as a rainbow of color burst behind her eyelids. His fingers slowed, gliding in and out as wave after wave of pleasure shook her body, his lips moving gently over hers.

Pulling back, Declan stood next to the bed gazing down at her. “Your whole body turns the most delectable shade of pink when you come.”

Propped on her elbows, Olivia watched as he removed his jeans and boxer briefs, shoving them down his thick thighs and kicking them away.

She tried not to stare. She really did. But if Declan in clothes was sexy, Declan naked and fully aroused, violet eyes hooded with desire, was the hottest thing she’d ever seen. He wrapped a hand around himself, stroking once, a half-hopeful, half-resigned look on his face.

“Don’t suppose you have a condom?”

Olivia grinned and pointed at her suitcase. “An entire box of pink ones.”

She thought he’d ask the obvious question, but within seconds Declan had found the box and rolled one on, settling himself between her thighs. He stroked his tip through her slick folds holding her gaze. “Pink is definitely my new favorite color.”

“Hen party fav—” The last of the word lost. She cried out as he surged into her. He stilled for a minute, letting her adjust to the fullness.

He was so deep Olivia felt like she couldn’t breathe. Declan was overwhelming. He was everywhere. His scent in her nose, his forearms framing her face—above her, inside her.

Her hips lifted to meet his relentless thrusts, the tension inside her spiraling higher with every plunge. Declan hooked a hand behind her knee, pushing it high on his back, and angled his hips so that he rubbed against her with each stroke.

Olivia’s orgasm crashed over her, her body shaking as Declan’s rhythm became less controlled, more frenzied. He buried his face in her neck with a hoarse shout, as his body shuddered and finally slumped over her.

His weight was almost suffocating, but she didn’t care. She ran her hands up and down his arms. He was still inside her, but it didn’t feel like enough.

Declan’s lips moved against her neck. “That was…”

Olivia squeezed around him, and he moaned, before slipping out of her. Discarding the condom, he returned to lie on his side next to her, supporting his head with one hand while he watched the other lazily run up and down her bare thigh.

Olivia sighed happily, the words from one of her favorite poems slipping out. “’And the sunlight clasps the earth, And the moonbeams kiss the sea—What are all these kissings worth if thou kiss not me?’”

His hand stopped, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Stupid Stupid Stupid. And just when she was sure she had ruined the moment, his palm cupped her chin, and she opened her eyes.

Declan’s gaze felt like it saw all the way into her soul. With a sweet smile, he said in his low, rumbly voice. “’She walks in beauty, like the night. Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright. Meet in her aspect and her eyes…’”

He stopped, the thunderclouds back in his eyes, and he flopped onto his back an arm over his eyes. “I can never remember the whole thing.”

Olivia was pretty sure that at some point on this trip she must have died, because not only did this man just give her the best orgasms of her life, he quoted Byron in all his naked glory.

“What time is your flight back to the States?”

Her heart squeezed. “My flight’s at noon tomorrow, but I’m going back to Oxford. I’m not due home until next week. I’m starting a new job.”

Declan was silent for a minute, and doubt began creeping into her happy bubble. Then he was up, pulling her to her feet and turning on the shower.

“Excellent. Plenty of time to finish that box.”

CHAPTER NINE

Dublin—12 years ago

Declan stared at the ceiling of Rose’s hotel room, partially illuminated by the bathroom light. She was stretched out like a starfish, snoring quietly. Rose was worn out, and frankly so was he, but his brain wouldn’t take the hint and shut down.

Jesus. What the fuck was I thinking? Quoting fucking poetry like a lovesick puppy.

He hadn’t been thinking, and that was the problem. Since he’d met her last night, it was as though she’d put some sort of spell on him. His normal, rational, logical way of thinking was thrown out the window, replaced with this other version of himself he didn’t recognize. Every part of him was attuned to every part of the beautiful woman next to him.

Rose had looked up at him, her eyes soft and warm, and a poem he’d memorized for a class at prep school poured out of him.