Chapter 6: Stay Angry

The kitchen tile was cold against my back, and Declan's body was hot over mine.

He had one hand braced beside my head and the other under my dress, and he was breathing hard.

"Say it," I said. "Say you're sorry."

"I'm sorry."

"Again."

"I'm sorry, Miriam. I'm so sorry."

I pushed on his shoulder, and he let me roll him onto his back.

I straddled his hips and sat up, and I pulled the dress over my head and threw it across the floor.

He looked at me, and his whole face changed.

"God," he said. "Look at you."

"Don't talk."

"Okay."

"You don't touch until I say."

His hands, which had been reaching for my waist, dropped flat to the tile.

I saw what it cost him. His fingers curled, and the muscles in his forearms went tight.

I bent and kissed him slowly, so that he had to lie there and take it.

I kissed his jaw where I had slapped him, and his throat, and the hard line of his collarbone.

I bit his chest, and he groaned.

I moved down his stomach, scraping with my nails, and I felt him shaking under me.

"Miriam," he said, rough. "Please."

"Not yet."

I opened his belt and pulled him free.

He was already hard, thick and hot in my hand, and he made a sound I had never heard from him in two years.

I stroked him once, slowly, from the base to the tip, and watched his eyes close.

"Look at me," I said.

His eyes opened.

I held his gaze and took him in my mouth.

He swore. His hips jerked off the floor, and his hands slapped flat against the tile, because he would not let himself grab my hair.

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