He grins. “It’s about time you figured that out.”
“And so modest, too.”
“Modesty is overrated.”
“Obviously.” I press kisses along the curve of his shoulder. “You know,” I tell him in between soft, sweet smooches, “our fight might be over, but we still need to talk out the points we disagree on.”
He groans and shifts a little, though he doesn’t pull away. The slight movement sets off a bunch of sensations deep inside me and I gasp. Tremble, despite myself.
His laugh is low and sexy as he moves again. This time he shifts so that his palm rests against my lower abdomen, his fingers curling possessively over my sex. It’s different from the other times he’s touched me, though, because the heat I’m feeling is more than just sex. It’s a fine, electric vibration that originates in his fingertips and works its way—slowly, sensuously—over my skin, and then through it, to what lies beneath.
“What are you—” I break off as a wave of pleasure slams through me, before finally gasping, “What are you doing?”
“If you don’t know, I must be doing it wrong,” he teases as he leans in for a kiss. As he does, another shock wave of pleasure shoots through me, this one bringing me to the very brink of orgasm all over again.
“You’re not—” I gasp, twisting my hips to maximize the sensations sparking inside me, then try again. “You’re not going to distract me with sex this time.”
His lips smile against my own. “Hate to be the one to break it to you, but I think I already have.” I feel another shock of electricity—this one longer and more intense than the ones that came before.
I scream a little, claw at his back in a desperate need to get closer. “Finish it,” I demand when I can think again.
“What if I don’t want to?” Yet another pulse sets my nerve endings jangling. “I kind of like you like this, all sexy and demanding.”
I grab his hair in my fists, yank his head back. “I’ll show you demanding! Finish it!” I growl against his lips.
“What’s the magic word?” he asks, even as he slides one of those magic fingertips of his against my clit.
“Please!”
“I was thinking more along the lines of abracadabra, but please works, too.” He bends his head, pulls one of my nipples into his mouth. And with another jolt of electricity straight to my sex, sends me tumbling into a second orgasm.
It takes me even longer to come down this time, because Declan keeps petting and kissing and touching me. Every time I think I’ve caught my breath, another wave crashes through me until finally, in self-defense, I sink my teeth into his heavily muscled shoulder.
He jerks against me with a groan. I like the sound, so I do it a second time, relishing the way such a simple touch from me can send him spiraling into another release as well.
“Now,” I tell him after our heart rates settle and he finally stops kissing me, “it’s time to talk about the ACW.”
With a groan, Declan pulls back and lets me slide slowly to the floor. He keeps an arm around me—just to make sure I’m steady on my feet, even as he conjures our clothes back up.
“That’s a pretty parlor trick,” I tell him as I grab my jeans out of thin air. “Ever thought about including it in the show?”
“To do that, either I’d have to get naked or I’d have to strip a member of the audience. Neither seems an optimum choice for my career.”
“You could get a really cute assistant. Strip her down on stage. I’m sure the male contingent of your audience won’t mind.”
“Maybe not,” he answers with a smirk. “But transubstantiation only works if I’m really motivated. Maybe if you were up on stage with me . . .”
It’s my turn to smirk. “Dream on, buddy.”
“Oh, I will.” My bra is dangling from his fingers when he swoops in for another kiss.
After he’s dressed and I’ve snagged some more food for him from the front of the house, I settle down behind my desk and try to figure out the best way to launch into the conversation we need to have. In the end, Declan does it for me.
“You can try to reason with me all you want, Xandra, but when it comes to the ACW, I’m going to do what I see fit.”
“Even if what you see fit to do causes a major war?”
“Hard to have a war if all the players are dead,” he says, taking a huge bite of the steak sandwich I made him.
“Well, that’s impressive reasoning.” My tone says it’s anything but. Declan just grins at me and forks up a bite of pasta salad.