The change-and-clean-myself-up routine takes almost half an hour, but at least I’m feeling fresh and relaxed by the time I crutch back out to the living room. I grab a bottle of water and a snack and make myself comfortable on the couch.
Declan has left the crossword for me, having finished the next ten words down. I turn on the TV for background noise and check my phone, but there are no new messages. It’s closing in on seven and I haven’t had dinner, so I polish off a box of crackers and work on the crossword for a while.
I must pass out, because I’m startled awake by the sound of something being knocked off the coffee table.
“Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up. I messaged like half an hour ago, but I guess I know why I didn’t get a reply.” He winks and kicks off his dress shoes.
He’s wearing a black suit with a white button-up and a pin-striped purple tie. I’m aware that Declan is a good-looking guy—he has a strong jawline, high cheekbones, full lips, thick dark hair, and gorgeous blue eyes. But today I finally understand why women lose their shit over him, because not only is he very, very easy on the eyes, he’s also incredibly adept with his hands, and good lord can he kiss.
I swipe my hand across my mouth to make sure I haven’t been drooling in my sleep. “Guess I must’ve been tired. What time is it?”
“It’s almost eight.” He picks the remote up off the floor and sets it on the edge of the couch.
“Oh wow, you’re late getting home. Did you have a lot of work you needed to catch up on?” I feel a slight pang of guilt over the number of times Declan has helped get me into bed and then resumed working. Often, he’ll set his laptop aside when we’re watching movies so he can rub my back. I wonder how behind working from home has put him. I make a mental note to stay on top of his dry cleaning and the groceries so he doesn’t have to. And his laundry.
“Nah, I just hadn’t heard from you when the guys were leaving, so I figured I could grab a beer with them. Have you eaten yet? I brought you dinner.” He shrugs out of his suit jacket and tosses it on the lounger before he loosens his tie and undoes the top two buttons on his dress shirt.
“Have you eaten already?”
“I had a few wings at the bar, but I saved myself for you. Let me grab some plates.”
“Sure. Okay.” My stomach does a flip when he winks again and heads for the kitchen. A couple of minutes later he returns with plates, cutlery, and two bottles of beer. “You think you can handle one of these?”
I nod. “What’d you bring home? That smells amazing.”
“Your favorite.” He unpacks the bag and flips open the lid on the top box.
“Oh man, is that lobster-bacon mac and cheese?” My mouth starts watering instantly.
“Sure is.” He spoons half the contents onto a plate and sets it on my lap tray.
“I love you so much right now,” I mumble around a forkful of cheesy pasta, groaning as the flavors hit my tongue.
He quirks a brow. “As much as you did this morning?”
I blink a couple of times and use sarcasm to try to hide my surprise at his casual mention. “It’s a toss-up.”
“That orgasm was better than this pasta.” He stabs a spiral noodle and smirks. “At least it looked like it from where I was standing.”
“Can your inflated ego, Deck. I haven’t had an orgasm in weeks. Sitting on the washing machine during the spin cycle would be almost as good as this.” I find a chunk of lobster and pop it into my mouth, savoring the delicate flavors. I love comfort food, and there’s nothing better than lobster-bacon mac and cheese.
“Do you think I should try again? Maybe see if I can do better the second time around?”
“And what if you can’t do better?” My nipples tighten under my shirt and the muscles below my waist clench at the memory of what happened between us this morning.
He lifts a shoulder in a semi-uncertain shrug. “Practice makes perfect, doesn’t it? Besides”—he drags his tongue across his bottom lip and points at my chest—“based on what’s happening under your shirt, you might like that idea as much as I do.”
I rap his knuckles with my fork. “Or I might be really excited about this.” I shovel another forkful of pasta into my mouth.
“I didn’t know lobster fetishes were a thing.”
Both of our phones ping at the same time, lighting up with a message from our group chat. Several more messages follow, Jerome chiming in after Mark.
“You cool with it if the guys come over Monday night to watch the game?” Declan taps his bottom lip, something he does when he’s nervous.