Slate (Breaking the Declan Brothers #2) (11 page)

“I know,” she says with a sort of sadness as her eyes lower. It puts a small dent in my tarnished heart. “Slate, would you,” she looks up at me, “lie next to me on the bed and just hold me tonight?”

I stare at her. “I could,” I say. It’s something I can do but certainly don’t deserve after making her feel guilty for my shitty life. “You’re sure that’s what you want?”

“I know nothing is going to change. You’re going to do whatever you want when we leave this den, but for tonight,” she holds me prisoner with those compassionate eyes, “yes, I’m sure.”

“Okay.” I slant my head at her and smile. “But just so you know, I’m not going to fuck you.”

“No,” she says, grinning back up at me. “Not today, anyway.”

I glance over where I last saw Slate sitting in a lawn chair around the fire. Zeke’s standing in front of him, arms flaying about, probably telling some crazy story to their group of friends. Zeke shifts to the left and through the dancing flames, I catch the glisten of Slate’s eyes. He’s looking right at me. I turn around and try to get back into the conversation, but every time I take a glimpse over my shoulder, I find Slate watching me. I don’t know what’s up his ass. He’s been distant since Emmie and I started hanging out with Matt Brody and his gang. I smile at Emmie but can’t concentrate on what they’re talking about. The hole Slate’s burning in my back is starting to get real hot.

That’s it. I spin around, head straight over, stop in front of him, and place my hands on my hips. “What’s up?”

“Nothin’,” he says, lifting his can of beer to take a sip.

I glare down at him, noting his attitude. It’s not hard to miss. When he’s irritated, his left eye twitches. “Do you want to come over and hang out with us?”

“No.” He sets the beer on the ground and stands up.

Damn. He’s shot up like five inches this past year. He’s slimmed out, too. Girls are starting to notice; it rather annoys me, but I can’t understand why. I crane my neck to look up at him, my smugness shrinking by the second. “Then why do you keep staring over there?”

The twitching halts when, for a brief moment, his eyes drop to my mouth. Matt does that, too. I know why he's doing it, but I can’t comprehend why Slate just did. I know he doesn’t want to kiss me. “What, Slate?”

“Will you go to the movies with me?”

“What?” I draw my head back. “Now?”

“No. Friday,” he easily responds.

What’s going on here? Why is he acting so weird? Why would he be asking me to the... Oh. My. God! No, he can’t be. Okay. I get it. He’s messing with me, pissed because I’ve been hanging out with Matt and them, and not him. “Why, Slate Declan, are you asking me out on a date?” I touch my chest, playing along.

“Yes, Rayna Keeney. I am,” he says with absolution, the kind he delivers whenever he says he’s going to do something and then follows through. The tone makes my heart skip a beat.

I tilt my head and squint up at him, mouth slightly open. We’re friends. Only ever have been friends. He can’t be serious. “And, you tell me,” I say, swaying closer, not about to back down if he is messing around, “just how would that work?”

“Well, you’d put something real pretty on, and,” he bends down, our mouths nearly touching, “I’d put on a decent t-shirt, borrow Jax’s car, drive on over to your house, and pick you up. We’d go to the movies. Midway through the show, I’d lean over and kiss you.” He shifts to the left, whispering into my ear, “And then you’ll fall madly in love with me.”

You know when someone says that their heart tightens in their chest. Well, that really does happen. I can barely catch my breath. I veer back from him and glance around seeking a witness or something, but no one is paying any attention to us, including Emmie and Matt. I come back to Slate and as usual, it’s only him and me. His eyebrow lifts. Holy shit! This is for real. Slate Declan just asked me out on a date and those fluttering butterflies in my belly tell me exactly how I feel about it.

“Well,” I clear my throat, “there’s one problem with this whole scenario.” I smile, trying hard not reveal my shock. I know how to play it cool. I’ve been watching him do it for years.

“Yeah,” his little smile turns up a bit, “and what’s that?”

“I already love you.” Oh, my God! How did I let that slip out of my mouth?

His eyes flutter as if his heart just tightened, too. “Yeah,” he blinks once, “but you love me like a friend.”

“Yes, I do.” It’s the truth, and that’s gotta be why I blurted it out.

His jaw clenches. “I want more.”

“I see,” I slowly say, realizing that if I were to be honest, I’ve wanted more for the past year, too. “Okay.” My heart wants to jump out of my chest, but somehow, I hold my composure. “How about we go to the movies and see where it goes from there, then.”

“That’ll work,” he says, the light in his eyes now flickering. “I’ll pick you up on Friday around seven.”

“All right.” I go to turn around and stop. “Wait-” I point at him. “At the movies, when you kiss me, are you going to try to stick your tongue in my mouth?”

“I most certainly am,” he says with a sly grin.

“Really,” I say, viewing Slate Declan for the first time as more than a friend and thoroughly liking what I see. “Aren’t you concerned that you might get kneed in the balls?”

“Oh…” He leans down, our mouths again nearly touching, and my heart squeezes tighter. “I think that I’ll take my chances...”

Slate did exactly as I asked. He held me all night long. I tried a couple of times to touch him, but he wouldn’t allow it. The insecurities about his body pulled him away from me, and all through the night, he was cautious not to touch me with his scarred skin. I resigned to accept what he was able to give, the comfort of his warm and powerful arm wrapped around me.

I pray after all this that he stays clean. Still, I’m cautious, too. I’m not going to set myself up for another broken heart courtesy of Slate Declan. Besides, I haven’t forgotten what I’m doing here—why I came back to the Bayou. And that was to break his heart. Then again, I’m not sure if he has one anymore. I got a peek at it last night, but who knows if it’ll be coming back out anytime soon for another visit.

After taking a shower, I head out to the living room. There’s a cup of coffee and some toast waiting for me on the counter. I smile. He can still pull off being sweet. I take a sip of the steaming coffee, watching from over the rim of the mug as Slate comes swaggering into the room dressed in a black tee and worn jeans. That needy bitch between my legs gets restless. He strolls on over. My eyes embark on his long, lean form. I set the mug down just as he reaches me. He sifts his hand through my hair, grips my nape, and pulls me to just inches from his tempting mouth. He looks at my lips then up at my eyes. My heart races as that needy bitch tugs rougher between my thighs. I know what he’s going to do. “Are you going to kiss me?”

A tiny smile surfaces upon his handsome face. “Was thinking about it,” he says, keeping his enticing mouth back from mine.

“Well, you might want to think two or maybe three times about it.” I smile back at him.

His left eyebrow tilts. “Why’s that?”

“You don’t want to go fallin’ for me again, now do you?”

“Who says that my ass ain’t already hit the floor?”

“What?” The hairs on my arms stand up straight.

“Ah, you should see the look on your face right now, monkey.” He chuckles as his hand slips around from my neck to rest on my cheek. “Yeah, I’d be frightened, too. You don’t want me falling for you again. No. Nothing good would come from that, but Rayna,” he searches my face thoughtfully, “if by some crazy chance, I do stay clean, you better watch out.” The pad of his thumb runs the length of my bottom lip. “’Cause I might just come after you.” He takes a step back, releasing me from his hold, and I let go of the breath held hostage in my lungs. “So,” he claps his hands together, “what time are my brothers instructed to open the door?”

“Noon,” I say, legs shaking from the aftermath of his touch and his bold words. I wrap my hands around my mug, relinquishing the urge to yank him back for that near kiss.

“Okay…” He glances at the clock on the microwave. “Then that gives you a little over two hours.” He leans against the counter and crosses his arms over his chest.

“For,” I slowly say, raising an eyebrow.

“For whenever you’re ready to head on over to the sofa, drop your panties, and present that sweet little ass to me.”

Coffee mug midway to my partly open mouth, I freeze. “You’re really going to follow through with this, then?” I set the mug back down, glaring up at him.

“Sorry.” He flips a hand in the air. “We had a deal. You got to fuck me, and now, it’s my turn.”

“I swear-” I place my palms flat on the table and take a deep breath, “if you make me do this, I’ll never speak to you again.”

“Oh…” He flashes me a grin. “I don’t know about that.”

“I won’t!”

“I think that I’ll take my chances.”

Shit. He’s not going to let this go. “Can we,” I say, trying to relax my tense body. “Can we at least talk about it?”

He steps forward and sets his palms alongside mine on the table. “No.”

“Seriously, Slate, you weren’t thinking clearly that first day.”

“You may be right,” he leans forward, getting dangerously closer, “but I’m thinking clearly now.” His gaze slides down to my heaving breasts. “And you can fight me all you want on this, but as I explained, misbehaving girls get their asses spanked,” he says with a trace of laughter in his voice as his gaze travels back up to my face. “And you, my naughty little girl, are well overdue. I probably should’ve put you over my knee years ago. So, prepare yourself, I got some makin’ up to do.”

I stare at him, detecting the determination in his tone, the resolve in his posture, and the fierce desire to take exactly what he wants; that shit is shining brightly in his eyes. There’s no question about it. Slate Declan is a changed man. The old Slate would have walked away by now. He’d never dig his feet in and fight me this hard. I’m shrinking inside because of it. I don’t have a chance against him. I wouldn’t have had any back then, either. He’s always had the power, the ability, to bring me to my knees. He just never used it.

Sliding my sweaty palms on the table, I grab my mug. I lift it and take a sip of the coffee, weighing my options and quickly realizing that I don’t have any. I agreed to this, and I’m not one to back down from a deal.

Slate shifts back against the counter, smiling with complete satisfaction. Dammit. He knows he’s going to get what he wants.

I take my time finishing my coffee with him quietly observing. The soundless surveillance builds anticipation as I sit back imagining how all of this is going to go down. Sex was always good with him, but considering how young we were and only having been with each other, it got monotonous. I can’t help but wonder what he’d be like now. And, apparently, I’m not leaving this den until I find out.

After a half an hour of staring at his self-satisfied face, I get up and walk over to the sink to dispose of my empty mug. I turn. He’s looking straight ahead, but I detect his cocky assurance in the contours of his side profile. Oh-ho, he has me, and he knows it. If I ever thought that I would have sex with him again, it definitely wasn’t under these circumstances. It pisses me off that he’s doing this to me.

“Considering how long you usually last, I got, what,” I bump his shoulder with mine, “like another hour or so, huh?”

His chest jumps as he tosses his head back with a short chuckle. Shaking his head, he looks down at the floor. “Hell. I was like a schoolboy back then. I always blew my load real quick, didn’t I,” he says, obviously not the least bit provoked by my comment.

“Within minutes, sometimes even seconds.” I smirk, and he might not be able to see it, but I know that he hears it.

“Huh.” He lifts his head, scrubbing his chin. “But I do recall that I always took care of you first, didn’t I?” He turns to me with a smile.

“Yes,” I grate between clenched teeth. I can’t lie. He spoiled me. Sometimes, he’d take care of me two or three times before worrying about himself.