“Take my come!” I roared. When I exploded in her it was with shuddering force, pumping come so deep inside of her she couldn’t form words, couldn’t do more than claw at my back, my buttocks, wanting more of me as if there could be anymore, as if she could possibly take even another inch. I filled her so completely.
I sank down on top of her, resting most of my weight to the side but staying inside of her still.
“You blow me away,” I murmured, kissing the side of her face.
She nuzzled against me and murmured, “I love you.”
I basked in her smell, her softness, completely sated. “I love you, Kara.”
I didn’t know about anything else I’d heard that day, but I knew that much was true.
CHAPTER 10
Kara
I didn’t settle down, not after we had sex, not after we showered and had sex again, not after he went to work out and I took a brisk walk along a hiking path.
I might never settle down again.
What an insane story! I felt like I’d stepped right inside an over-the-top soap opera, the kind where people had amnesia, mistook their worst enemy for their husband, and then discovered that they were a queen of a small European country.
Declan’s lawyer, Stephan, had stopped by briefly to say goodbye. He apologized for all the drama, advised Declan to give it some thought before he made any decisions, and left us with a dossier. A full file folder of information about the Kavanaugh family. Thick and black, it beckoned to me.
But I didn’t open it. That was Declan’s decision. I wanted to tuck into it like a tantalizing new book from my favorite author, but it wasn’t my call. This was his past. Now he had to decide about his future.
Declan came back from the gym like he usually did after a workout, shirtless, dripping with sweat and looking like a model for some kind of protein powder supplement. His chest was so chiseled and defined, his muscles so sculpted and perfect I had to admit I forgot for a moment everything that was going on. He was that drop-dead sexy.
“I can’t believe this,” he said, standing there with his hands on his hips.
“It’s a lot,” I agreed, forcing my attention back to the matter at hand.
I sat on the couch, the black leather binder in my hands like a Christmas present. “Can we open it?”
Bless him, a brief smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?”
“No. Well…” I paused, trying to express the whirlwind of emotions struggling through me. “I realize you learned a lot of crazy things today about your past. And your mom…she’s not winning any parenting awards. But you also learned about the present. And, yeah, it kind of sounds interesting, doesn’t it?” Interesting was a mild, watered-down way of my saying, “Declan, WTF!!! A family of brothers and a sister! And two hundred and fifty million dollars to boot?” Not bad for a day’s revelations.
“Aren’t you the least bit curious about them?” I asked.
He exhaled, running a hand through his thick hair. “I don’t know, Kara.” He shook his head. “It’s a lot to take in.”
I should leave off, stop pressing. Give him time and all that. But, come on! That thick file of information just about burned through my hands.
He sighed again, looking at me. The man knew me well. I didn’t even have to say a word. I raised my eyebrows and tried unsuccessfully to suppress a smile.
He nodded in defeat. “All right. You win, Kara. We’ll look through it.”
I squealed in excitement. “Come and sit. Let’s meet the family!” I patted the couch next to me.
“Let me pour a drink first,” Declan said wryly, making his way over to the wet bar. But with a scotch in hand, he joined me on the couch and we opened up the portfolio.
The first page was a big photo of an extremely handsome family. Holy shit, they looked like a Brooks Brother catalogue! Obviously a professional photo. Who did black and white photography anymore? I guessed uber-wealthy families in New York City, that’s who.
On the next page was a huge family tree, with lines and more lines connecting people way on back in the Kavanaugh lineage.
“Ooh, look, there’s a family tree. I LOVE FAMILY TREES!” I clapped my hands together in delight and couldn’t suppress a squeal.
“I think you just spoke in all caps,” Declan wryly observed.
“I did,” I confirmed. “Look!” I pointed at the rectangles, each representing one of his half-siblings. “Here’s a brother, and another brother, and here’s your sister!”
“You sound like you’re looking at a box of chocolates.”
“Yes, it’s exactly like that.” I knew he was teasing me, but my enthusiasm remained undaunted. “Ooh! I love the name Kavanaugh. Does that sound Irish to you? Or Scottish? Maybe you have a family crest? Or a plaid?”
“I was probably related to Braveheart.” He sounded so deadpan I believed him for a second.
“Or you might be British? You might be related to the royal family! I’ve always wanted to meet Kate. She’s so classy.”
“I don’t see Kate Middleton in this.” Declan gestured down to the papers before us and, true, he probably was not related to Duchess Kate and Prince William. Still, this was pretty cool.
I turned the page and we got a bio of his older brother, Colton, now head of Kavanaugh Investors. Colton. It sounded so refined and snooty. He wasn’t even a year older than Declan. Huh. The math on that one made you wince. He must be the baby his father had left at home with his wife while he’d flown out to Montana to make himself another baby.
Anyway. I turned the page to the next sibling. He had an even fancier name, Asher. Wait. I grabbed onto Declan’s arm. “Declan!” I yelled, though he was sitting right next to me.
“What?” He leaned over, wondering what had alarmed me.
“Declan, do you see who your brother is?” I looked up, wide-eyed and open mouthed. “Ash Black!”
“Ash Black?” He showed no recognition.
“Ash Black!” I continued, as if just the repetition of his name would jog his memory. There was no way he hadn’t heard of the guy. He was the lead singer of a hugely popular rock band. I loved his music. “You know, the lead singer of The Blacklist?”
“The Blacklist.” Declan nodded as if vaguely recalling something associated with that name.
“Come on, you know! ‘Get up, Get out?’ ‘Starfish?’ ‘I’m Outta?’”
“I Oughta?” He looked at me like I was speaking another language.
“No, I’m Outta. You know, like,” I drew myself to sit up tall and began belting it out, Ash Black style, “I’m outta here! You never even knew my name!”
“Yeah,” Declan nodded, “I think I’ve heard that.”
“Everyone’s heard that!” I guessed amassing your own real estate empire by the age of 27 like Declan had didn’t exactly leave much time for listening to music. But, still, The Blacklist was the hottest band I could think of. So hot, the music and the lead singer.
“I can’t believe it,” I gushed, looked down at the portfolio again. There was no picture included on the page devoted to him, shame. But there was a brief descriptive bio, how he’d formed the band at 18 under the name Ash Black. Now 26, he lived in San Francisco.
“What are the chances?” I asked, amazed.
“Slim to none,” Declan answered, sounding like he wished it were the latter.
“He’s so hot!” I looked over at Declan sitting beside me on the couch, now decidedly glowering. OK, maybe hot wasn’t the right word to use. “I mean, he’s not as hot as you.” It was completely true, no one held a candle to my Declan. But it didn’t sound true coming out of my mouth, not at the moment.
“OK, that might be enough meeting my family.” He moved his hands to take the portfolio out of my lap.
“No! No!” I snatched it in my greedy little hands. “OK, I promise! No more Ash Black! Even if it is crazy that you’re related to a rock star.”
“I don’t see what
’s so great about it,” he grumbled.
“All right, look.” I turned the page. “The next brother is named Heathcliff. That’s a ridiculous name. And he lives in Vermont. No one lives in Vermont.”
Declan grunted, non-committal.
“And Georgiana! Your baby sister! That’s so cute!”
“She’s only four years younger than you. She’s not an actual baby.” Again, he tried to temper my enthusiasm. To no avail.
“I know! We might become good friends! Ooh, she’s in school at Vanderbilt University. That sounds fancy.”