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chapter
forty-nine
“Meg.”
I really don’t want to open my eyes, but the voice speaking to me sounds distraught. It seems rude to ignore it. Also, it would probably be good for me to know where I am?
My eyelids are lazy, so I use the lag time to mentally retrace my steps.
I woke up feeling itchy and too hot with all that manly man-ness in my bed. I got on my phone and looked up the workouts Archer suggested. Realized I’d look like a clown trying to do them in front of the others for the first time. And then I decided to sneak down to the gym and practice not looking like a dork while doing burpees.
Declan.
He came in, we were arguing, his scent spiked. Then mine did and… oh no.
Sure enough, I open my eyes and find Declan’s infuriatingly gorgeous face looming over mine.
We’re still in the gym. I see the ridiculous No Days Off mural behind him. I wince, my eyes fluttering against the stinging brightness of the lights overhead.
“Shit,” he mutters and stretches. Something tugs inside my body just before he settles back over me, hovering on his elbows and using one hand to mess with his phone. Within seconds, the lights above us dim. He grunts, dropping the phone and panting while he hangs his head dangerously close to my chest.
My bare chest.
I jerk up onto my own elbows, gaping at the way we’re arranged. Declan is on top of me.
And sooooooo naked.
Just… naked-naked. Not a stitch to cover any of his eight-pack abs or his broad, sculpted shoulders or anything below his chiseled hips.
The same hips pressed insistently into mine. So close that I’m forced to wonder… where his penis is? Because there’s no way it’s between us, with the way we’re locked together?—
Locked. Together.
Oh. My. GOD.
We’re knotted.
“Meg,” Declan says again. I whip my head back to look at him, ready to chew his face off, but his expression stops me cold.
He’s agonized.
“Meg,” he breathes, shimmying on his elbows to brush tentative fingers over each of my temples. “God. Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Should I call someone?”
He seems so upset, I can’t help but wonder if he has a point. I stretch both of my legs around his, trying to find some hidden injury. But all I feel is his knot, pulsing deep and wide inside me. And how slick I am around it.
“I—I think I’m okay.”
He isn’t convinced. His frown deepens, blue eyes scanning my face. “Your head. Did I hit it when I tackled you? Are you dizzy or nauseous? What about a headache? Concussions are serious shit, Meg. We should call Archer. Or an ambulance. God, they need to check your whole body. X-ray everything. Or an MRI, even. Fuck. I could have hurt you or bitten you or?—”
I reach up on instinct, slapping my palm over his lips. His horrified panic melts into an owlish look that almost makes me laugh.
“Hey. Breathe. I’m okay.” I try to make a joke. “Luckily, it seems you lived up to your nickname and were pretty vanilla.”
My hand falls from his stubbled jaw just in time for me to catch his glower. “This is serious, Megera. I basically just assaulted you.”
Is that what happened? Because it doesn’t really feel that way to me. And the way he’s locked inside of me… well, based on that and the smell in here, I’d say we attacked each other.
“You have to believe me,” he continues, rasping. “I didn’t mean to do this. I never wanted to do this.”
