One Night Only by Catherine Walsh

32

There’s someone in my bed.

Or rather, I’m in their bed.

I watch Declan as he sleeps. I’ve been watching him sleep ever since I woke up. Like a lunatic.

I can’t help it. It’s the first time I’ve been able to look at him. Properly look at him. No more sneaky glances from the corner of my eye, no more hoping he won’t catch me staring. I can look. Look at the slight stubble on his chin, the faint bags under his eyes. There’s a tiny scar close to his hairline, nearly invisible. Acne maybe? Or did he fall?

Suddenly his random texts when he was gone don’t seem so stupid anymore. I want to know what his favorite bird is. I want to know what his favorite food is. I want to know what he’s like when he’s tired and when he’s happy. I want to know what kind of movies he likes, what music he listens to, what places he visits when he has the time.

I want to kiss him again.

Will we kiss when he wakes up? I definitely have morning breath. Should I brush my teeth? I don’t have my toothbrush. I don’t have anything. Nothing but my clothes on the floor and whatever is in my purse.

I don’t even know what time it is though the bright light bathing the room tells me it’s earlier than I think. I do know it’s morning.

The morning after the night before.

I let my eyes drift back to Declan, waiting for something to change, for this feeling, whatever it is to go away. But it doesn’t. The more I look, the more I feel. Warmth and comfort. Peace.

I watch him until his breathing changes and he slowly begins to wake. He’s such a heavy sleeper, I probably could have showered, dressed and left by now and he wouldn’t even have stirred.

Why haven’t I left?

Because I don’t want to.

The realization makes me giddy. I don’t want to and I don’t have to.

I can stay and watch him to my heart’s content.

When his eyelids flutter, I shut my own, feigning sleep as I listen to the gentle rustle of the sheets, his quiet exhale.

There’s a whisper of movement as he runs a finger down my nose and across my lips. It tickles my skin and I feel his breath on my cheek.

Is he going to kiss me?

“I know you’re awake,” he says, loudly.

Busted.

I open my eyes to find him staring at me, one brow raised.

“Morning,” he says.

I try to think of something to say. Something clever and cool but my mind goes blank.

“Hi.” The word comes out like a squeak. I’m immediately mortified.

He smiles as if he knows exactly how I’m feeling. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Um…” I lose all track of my thoughts as he moves closer.

“Sarah?” he whispers.

My mouth runs dry. “Yes?”

He’s inches from me now. I could probably count his eyelashes if I wasn’t staring at his mouth.

“I’m going to have to kick you out.”

My eyes shoot to his and I scowl. “Why do you always ruin things?”

He only laughs. I reach out blindly to hit him, but my fist gets tangled in the sheet. He catches it easily and before I can move, he’s on top of me.

“Go away.”

“No,” he says. And he kisses me.

I no longer care about morning breath.

And I’m beginning to think I’d be perfectly happy staying here all day when our little cocoon is broken by a harsh vibrating sound from somewhere nearby. His phone.

Declan ignores it. He doesn’t even seem to hear it as he concentrates on kissing me, soft and tender and oh so sweet.

The noise stops for a few seconds only to start again.

I break away from the kiss, but he merely changes course, nibbling on my ear.

“Shouldn’t you get that?”

“Nope.”

“What if it’s an emergency?”

“They’ll leave a message.”

“What if it’s your mom?”

He raises his head to look at me, exasperated when he sees I’m serious. With a muttered curse, he flops to the side, landing with a thud on his back. In one swift movement, he grabs the phone from the nightstand and answers the call. He doesn’t even check the number. And then he’s right back on top of me.

“Hello?” he says as I frantically hit his shoulder. I can hear murmuring on the other end of the line. What if they hear us? What if it’s Paul?

“No,” he says. “Wait. Yes. Why?”

I clap a hand over my mouth to stop any unbidden noises as he licks a line between my breasts before capturing a nipple in his mouth.

He releases it far too soon. “Okay.”

He ends the call, dropping the phone to the pillow as he kisses me again. My hands go automatically to his hair as he keeps going, drawing a path down my stomach. The sheet moves with him as he goes, leaving me very naked as he moves lower and lower and then stops.

“Hey!” I protest as he sits up, swinging himself neatly out of bed.

“That’s for making me pick up the phone.”

I pull the sheet back over at me, flushing. “Who was it?”

“It’s actually an emergency.”

Oh. “Is your mom okay?”

“She’s fine.”

I stare as he stands, gloriously naked and unconscious about it as he gets dressed.

“There was a water leak in O’Shea’s,” he explains. “I need to go check out the damage.” The boxer shorts go on. And then his jeans.

I push myself into a sitting position, wondering if I can reach my underwear on the floor without flashing him.

Declan frowns. “What are you doing?”

“I’m getting up.”

“You’re not getting up,” he says, grabbing a fresh T-shirt. “You’re staying here, naked, and when I get back, I’ll join you.”

I open my mouth to protest but before I can he climbs onto the bed until his body hovers over mine. “One of these days I am going to have breakfast with you.”

“Oh, you think we’re doing this again, do you?” I ask as he fits one long leg between my thighs.

“I won’t be long,” he says, his voice tickling my ear.

“I don’t care.” But even I can hear the smile in my voice.

“Are you going to tell me about your dream now?”

“I thought we covered that last night.”

“Was that before or after you jumped me?”

“I didn’t jump—”

“I’m not going to let this drop until you tell me, so you might as well get it over with.”

I scowl at the space above his shoulder. Declan doesn’t budge. Ugggggh. Fine. “I was naked.”

“Excellent start.”

I close my eyes briefly, trying and failing to fight the sudden wave of embarrassment. “And you were wearing your tuxedo.”

There’s a long pause and I want to shove him away, climb out the window and jump into an open manhole but he lifts himself up, his fists sinking into the mattress on either side of my head as he looks down at me, an almost thoughtful look on his face.

“You’ve got a suit thing?”

“A tuxedo thing,” I correct. “And before you—”

“I’ve still got it.”

My breath catches in my throat and he grins.

“Good to know.”

Quick as lightning he kisses my cheek and then he’s off, leaving a gust of cool air in his wake.

“Whatever you do,” he says, his voice further away. “Do not use my coffee in the second cabinet beside the microwave and do not, and I repeat, do not help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge.”

There’s some noise from the living room and then the front door shuts. I stare up at the ceiling, clutching the sheet to my chest.

I don’t move for a long time. I don’t think I can move. But, eventually, I come back down to earth. The noises from outside start to creep in, the sound of the traffic, voices on the street below. The pipework groans somewhere above me. My pulse starts to mellow.

I need to get up. I’m too awake to go back to sleep and I don’t want Declan to come back and find me waiting for him.

I mean I do but I don’t. It’s important to set rules early on in whatever this is. Important to carve back some sort of control.

And make him work for it.

I stand, wrapping the sheet around me, and realize for the first time I am alone in his apartment.

I’m careful to respect his space. I don’t rifle through his drawers no matter how much I want to. Not that there’s much to rifle through. There’s no storage space in the room. His clothes hang on an open rack that looks like it’s about to collapse, his pants folded into cheap baskets underneath.

The bathroom, which barely fits me with the door closed, is just off the hall.

It takes me a minute to get his shower to work and when I do the water alternates between hot and cold, so I allow myself only a quick rinse before hurrying out.

My clothes are creased from spending the night in a heap on the floor but I have no other choice so I pull them on as my stomach rumbles.

We finished his cereal at some point during the night but that was hours ago.

And I did have a lot of exercise.

I smile at the memory. At all the memories and the pleasant ache between my legs and the knowledge that we can do it all over again.

I find the coffee exactly where he said it would be along with half a loaf of bread in the freezer. I make a slice of toast as the smell of breakfast fills the apartment.

I wonder what we’ll do today. I wonder if I’ll even leave the building.

Maybe I should just get back into bed.

I take a sip of espresso, grinning at the thought when there’s a knock on the door.

It can’t be Declan.

Even if he did forget his key, it’s barely been thirty minutes. It would take him that long just to get to the bar. Not there and back.

I do a quick scan for any incriminating evidence and creep the few steps to the door.

I peer through the peephole but can’t see a face, only a crown of blonde hair as whoever it is looks down at their feet.

A neighbor perhaps?

But I know it’s not.

I think about not answering but curiosity overwhelms me and I don’t move away as she knocks again.

“Declan?”

That goddamn accent.

I open the door before I can stop myself.

Her head shoots up, light-gray eyes going wide when she sees me. Her fist is raised to knock again and it hovers in midair before she lowers it.

I recognize her instantly even though we’ve never met before. Even though she has no idea who I am. How could I not when I spent days staring at a picture of her?

Fiona.