If I wore panties. Which I don’t.

“I don’t feel rushed,” I reply and push my hands under his shirt. His skin is smooth and warm under my fingers, and all I can think is, give me more.

“I didn’t bring condoms,” I whisper.

“I have that covered,” he whispers back.

He brushes his fingertips down my face, then he pushes his fingers into my hair at the back of my head and tips his forehead against mine. “I’m going to fuck you like no one else ever has.”

I simply smile, reach behind him and open the door, and walk in with him, our bodies almost touching, our lips only millimeters apart. We’re already panting. His eyes are blazing, and I couldn’t look away from them if I tried.

“Wanna look around?” he asks.

“Later.” I guide his shirt up over his head and drop it to the floor, then take my sweet time letting my hands graze over his muscled torso. “I’d rather check you out for now.”

“Not complaining here, darlin’,” he drawls. So, when he’s turned on, his accent is about twenty times stronger.

So noted.

His hands are balled into fists at his side and he simply watches me as I explore him, tracing a tattoo on his shoulder with my fingertip, then dipping into the crevices of his biceps.

God, he’s ripped.

“How does a musician stay in such good shape?” I whisper.

“Martial arts,” he replies. “I’m having a hard time not touching you right now, sugar.”

“I never said you couldn’t touch me,” I reply and place an open-mouthed kiss over his left pec and down to his stomach. “Your abs should be illegal.”

“I’ll call the cops.”

I grin, then lick a circle around his navel and down the faintest trail of hair that disappears into his jeans.

“I thought these were a myth,” I say as I trace the V in his hips with my fingers, and suddenly, I’m lifted into the air and being carried to the bed. “Didn’t like that?”

“I want a turn,” he replies. All humor is gone from his voice, but the heat hasn’t left his eyes. “I need to get you naked.”

He sits me on the bed and lifts my blouse over my head. Since I’m eye-level with his cock, and I can see that it’s straining against his jeans, I reach up and unfasten them, then guide them down his hips.

“You don’t wear underwear either?”

“Either?”

I look up at him through my lashes and send him a coy grin. “Either.”

“That’s it.” We’re a tangle of fabric and limbs as we strip each other down, throwing clothes haphazardly around the room. Finally, we’re facing each other, completely naked, and I can’t take my eyes off of him.

“You know that movie with Emma Stone and Ryan Gossling, where he takes her home and she makes him take off his shirt, and she says he looks like he’s photoshopped?” Why am I talking so damn fast?

“I don’t know,” he replies, his eyes roaming over me, as if he doesn’t know what he should look at first.

“Well, you look like you’re photoshopped. Seriously, Declan, your body is…” I can’t finish the statement. I can only swallow and blink, and when my gaze finds his again, he’s advancing toward me. But rather than the mutual attack and scramble to make it go fast that I’m expecting, he guides me back on the bed, climbing over me, and rests his cock against my center as he covers me and brushes stray hairs from my face.

“You’re stunning.” His lips nibble mine while his eyes watch me. “I want to make you moan.” He kisses his way down my neck, to my collarbone. “Call out my name.” Takes my nipple into his mouth and tugs with his teeth. “Come so hard you don’t know what day it is.”

“I don’t know what day it is,” I reply and plunge my hands in his hair, reveling in how soft it is. He licks down to my navel, then farther down still and I can’t help but fist my hands, tugging on his hair, but not wanting him to stop. “I like the little bit of hair you keep here,” he murmurs, brushing his nose over it, then sinks even farther and licks me from labia to clit, and back down again, making my back arch right up off the bed.

“Holy fuck!”

“Mmmm,” he agrees as he latches onto my lips and sucks, while simultaneously plunging his tongue inside me. Dear sweet God, he’s good with his mouth.

“Declan!”

“That’s right, Calliope, what’s my name?”

“Declan.”

My head is thrashing back and forth as he resumes fucking me with his mouth and plants the pad of his thumb against my clit, and I see stars. I’m pretty sure that’s my voice crying out as I fall apart, coming harder than I can remember coming before. I can barely feel Declan kissing his way up my body, pausing here and there to bite me gently, which only sends more shivers through me, until he’s finally braced over me.

“How was that first one?”

“First one what?” I mumble. His lips twitch as he lowers himself to rest his lips on mine, and I can smell and taste myself.

“Orgasm,” he whispers.

“One for the record books,” I reply and circle my hips, rubbing my sopping wet pussy against his hard, throbbing cock. His eyes cross.

“Fuck, you’re so damn sexy,” he growls.

“I don’t know if you can tell by what I’m doing down there, but you’re invited to slip inside me now.” I smile and grip his ass in my hands, digging my nails in. He tips his forehead against mine and does exactly that: slips inside me, but stops when he’s halfway there. “Don’t stop.”

“You’re tight, Callie.”

I tilt my hips and take him the rest of the way, and that’s it. He doesn’t hold back any more. He’s pounding me now, hips moving fast and steady, and God, he just fits me. His pubis hits my clit with every thrust, and before long, I’m seeing stars again.

“So good,” I moan. “Declan, you feel so good.”

He grins and kisses me, devouring me, until I can’t stop the orgasm that moves through me. I’m clutching at him, holding him close.

“Shit, I’m going with you,” he groans, just before his whole body tightens and he moans as he lets go of his own release.

After a long moment of panting and bodies slowly relaxing, Declan rolls off me, then pulls me against him.

“We’re messy.”

“I don’t care,” he replies and kisses me softly. His fingertips are lazily dragging up and down my back, making me sleepy.

“I didn’t see a music room,” I murmur against his neck.

“I didn’t show it to you,” he replies softly.

“Why?”

I feel him shrug beneath me. “It felt personal.”

“And this isn’t?” I ask with a chuckle as I lean my head back so I can see his eyes.

“I wasn’t sure I was going to get you in here,” he replies and kisses my forehead. “It’s not done yet. I’ll show you when it’s finished. You should sleep.”

“You really want me to stay?”

“Yes.” His arms tighten around me. I’ve never felt this at home with a man. Not even with Keith, and I’d been with him for years.

This is all so different. Better different.

“Did you lose a parent, Declan?” I ask, remembering what he said earlier before the game.

“My father passed away almost three years ago.” He doesn’t stiffen up, or turn away. But his voice sounds sad.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“Did you get along well with him?”

He nods. “Ours is a close family. We had our moments, but I don’t know if there’s anyone in the world I’ve ever admired more.”

“That’s nice.” I close my eyes against the tears that want to form. “I didn’t admire my father. I loved him, but I didn’t admire him.”

“No?”

I shake my head and appreciate that he’s not pressing me to continue. He just waits.

Declan might be the most patient man I’ve ever met.

“He fell apart after Mama died. Most men would have recovered, but he never did. So I took care of him.”

“Who took care of you?” Declan asks softly. I simply shake my head and continue.

“Dad was an alcoholic, and owning a bar didn’t help that at all. He wasn’t a mean drunk, Dec. He was a sweet man. But he would get sad. As an adult, it’s easy to look back and see that he was just trying to be numb. He loved her so much.