Maybe to do with being filthy rich and how they were used to getting what they desired. Declan didn’t strike me as that quintessential arrogant rich man. Not like Reynard Crisp. I wouldn’t have been attracted otherwise.
He opened the door for me and even lifted me up. I giggled. “I can do it myself.”
“You don’t like me fondling you?”
Those sparkling blue eyes always left me brainless.
He pinched my bottom and I laughed. “I do. I’m just not used to this special treatment. I could have just as easily ridden my bike over.”
“I hadn’t heard from you. I wasn’t sure if you were popping in,” he said.
Was that a glint of insecurity in his eyes?
“I like to know where you are,” he added.
He ran his tongue over his mouth, and like a magnet our lips crushed.
I drew away from his steamy kiss. Mainly because any minute we’d have sex in the car. Especially with those wandering hands of his.
“Mm… you feel fucking hot,” he said. “I’m walking around with a permanent hard-on.”
I rubbed his thick length through his denim. “I’ve noticed.”
“Who was the guy?” he asked.