Free Declan + Coraline by J.J. McAvoy Page B

not only clothes brought up for her, but also a personal maid just in case she needed anything while we were here. Glancing down at my hands, I smiled at the memory of her in my arms; how she’d kissed me, how I’d kissed her. She was the only woman I had dated since I was a teenager. I didn’t kiss women. Allowing them to kiss my body, fine. Fuck them, yes. But I never felt the need to make it any more personal than it had to be. Maybe it was because I had seen how my parents kissed each other as a child. It meant something and I didn’t want to waste it, I didn’t want it to be meaningless. Liam thought I was insane, but we all had our lines. He never said a woman’s name in bed. Neal, before Olivia, never took a woman to any place other than a restaurant on Fifty-Sixth Street. Not once had I ever been tempted to go over my line, and yet from the first moment I met her, I wondered how her lips would feel on mine. And now that I knew, I still wanted more.
    You’re losing it, Declan.
    “Declan?”
    Turning around, I froze. She stood there dressed in plunge-neck white dress with a thigh-high slit. Which meant I could see her perfectly long legs and smooth thighs, along with the curve of her breasts. She was trying to kill me.
    “Shoes or no shoes?” She lifted the heels beside her.
    I shook my head. There was no way I was letting anyone else see her tonight.
    “Dinner is waiting for us on the beach” I said softly, as I walked towards her. “You look…beyond words, Coraline.”
    She smiled, crossing one foot over the other as she brushed her hair behind her ears. “Thank you. You don’t look half bad yourself.”
    “Shall we?” I offered her my arm.
    Linking arms, I led her towards the stairs, and out of the house. The beach would have been pitch-black, had it not been for the row of lanterns that lit the path and led right to the table in the center. A waiter stood waiting for us and as we approached, he pulled her chair out and seated her.
    “Wow,” she whispered, glancing up at the stars above us.
    “You like?”
    “I’m a little past like by now.”
    Good.
    “You’re fine with seafood, right?”
    “I love seafood.”
    Our waiter motioned to the servers who brought out our dishes on silver trays.
    “Grilled lobster tail with chive and ricotta gnocchi.” He presented the plate to her and she smiled so beautifully.
    It was a smile I selfishly wanted to keep for myself, but instead, I thanked the man as he placed my food in front of me.
    “What would you like to drink, sir?” he asked.
    “Two pomegranate mojito cocktails,” I said, and he nodded, walking off. Finally I turned to her and asked, “Why don’t you drink?”
    “It’s not that I don’t drink, it’s more of I don’t like the taste of alcohol.” She removed a chunk of the meat from her lobster tail.
    “You don’t like any alcohol?”
    “I know it’s weird. In school, there was a lottery going for who could make me a drink I could actually enjoy. But at least I can say I remembered everything that happened while in college.” She giggled to herself.
    “You’re the eternal optimist, aren’t you?” I liked that about her.
    She nodded. “I’m on the beach in Cancun, eating what I’m sure is the best lobster in the city, with a hot guy who has made it his personal mission to make me have fun. How could I not be optimistic about life?”
    I leaned in. “You think I’m hot? I was trying to tone it down.”
    “Well, you failed tragically,” she replied as she took a bite.
    “At least I’m not the only one,” I said, as my eyes drifted down her neck. “I couldn’t think of a word before, but I think sinful works now.”
    “That’s exactly what I was going for.”
    Our eyes met again, and if it wasn’t for the waiter who brought over our drinks, I might have cut dinner short. I reached for my ice-cold glass of water and drank deeply in the hopes that it would cool me down enough to make it to the end of