I give him a confused look once we leave class. “Was not showing it to me ever an option?”
“No fucking way.”
Thirty minutes later, we’re laughing and still a little slap happy as I unlock the door.
But the second it closes with a whoosh, Declan grabs the waistband of my jeans, backs me up against the wall, and slams his pelvis against mine.
“Whoa, cowboy,” I say, since he’s frisky. “We should make sushi more often.”
Declan covers my mouth with his in an enticing, entryway kiss that’s a prelude to one thing only. His mouth is possessive, consuming mine in a way that says I want you, I need you, I’ve been thinking about touching you all day long.
I go shivery-hot all over. He tugs my bottom lip between his teeth, makes a throaty purr, then coasts his mouth along my jawline, nipping me. I groan as pinpricks of pleasure zip along my skin.
“Did you like cooking class?” he asks, all hot and commanding.
But I can’t follow the question. “Uh, it was fun. Why are you asking now?”
“I really liked cooking class,” he continues, his voice husky, suggesting his mind isn’t on class at all.
His mind seems solely on me as he pushes a hand on my chin, exposing my throat so he can sweep his tongue along my Adam’s apple, while holding me in place. His lips are on a mission. They travel across my chin, my throat. He sweeps those soft, full lips along my jawline, igniting a blast of sparks down my spine. I grab his hips, curl my hands tight around them, letting my head fall back against the wall as he rumbles, “I liked class so much.”
And I get where he’s going now. At least I think I do. “Declan Steele, did you use that class as foreplay or something?”
“I didn’t use it as foreplay, but guess what? It turned out to be. Want to know why?” he whispers, all smoky in my ear.
“Yes, I do,” I say on a gasp.
Declan takes his time answering, choosing instead to close his mouth over my earlobe and suck. “Fuck, yes,” I moan, my eyes floating shut as my man shows me everything his mouth can do to me.
He pushes his crotch harder against mine, then his lips leave my skin.
I open my eyes. Declan’s brown gaze is shimmering with heat. “Because I love being with you, babe,” he says. “Spending time with you turns me on.”
“Making sushi?” I ask.
“Getting coffee,” he adds.
“Going for a run?”
“Watching a movie,” he continues, and Declan grinds his hard cock against mine, showing me how very turned on he is. “Being with you excites me,” he says. “So damn much.”
“Evidently,” I tease, and I sneak a hand between us, squeezing his erection, then cupping his balls.
“Yesssss,” he moans. I fondle him through his clothes. “You turn me on, Grant. I fucking love being your man. And I hope you’re having a good time with me too.”
My heart glows, shining brighter, growing bigger. “We don’t need our relationship to feel like a week in Ibiza, Deck. I’m completely happy with us being very, very San Francisco.”
He breathes a sigh of relief, smiles, then lets out a sexy rumble. “Thank you for letting me make you happy.”
I tug on his jeans. “You do make me happy. Especially when I can sit on your dick.”
Declan growls as his hands roam up my chest. “I want that. But I want something else too.” He tips his forehead to the stairs. “Bedroom. I have a plan.”
My balls tingle as my dick does a happy dance. I grab his hand and press the palm against my hard-as-steel cock. “I’m down with whatever you have on the sex agenda tonight.”
Our shoes come off.
As we go up the stairs, I shed my shirt, tugging it over my head with one hand, dropping it to the floor. Declan does the same with his. When we’re in our bedroom he stalks me again, pushes me against the wall by our bureau, slams his hands roughly against my pecs.
My breath hitches as pleasure shoots through me.
“You like that,” he says, all hot and gravelly. “When I manhandle you.”
“Always have. Ever since we first hooked up,” I say. A wave of goose bumps rolls over my skin, making the hair on my arms stand on end.
Declan grabs my wrists, pins them to my sides, and rubs his pelvis against me.
Another moan falls from my lips. “Yeah, like that,” I murmur as he keeps me in his grip.
With a tight hold on my wrists, he dips his face to my chest, licks a path between my pecs. He bends, traveling lower, flicking his tongue across my abs while keeping me locked against the wall. I’m a live wire, vibrating with lust. When he reaches my pelvis, he presses a hard, hot kiss against the ridge of my erection, then rises, his face meeting mine.