Burning for Love Prologue

Burning for Love

My eyes fixed on my swollen, cut-up knuckles and I snickered. Gwen and I didn’t belong together. I didn’t do relationships. Even if I did, I’d force myself to stay away from her, despite how badly my dick wanted her. The last thing she needed was for me to break her heart. She was the kind of girl who believed in love and I wouldn’t be the one to spoil that for her.

-Declan

Declan

For single guys, weddings were good for one thing: getting laid. Something about the love and romance got all of the women in attendance horny as fuck. Even though I went solo to my buddy Dylan’s wedding, I had no doubt that I’d be crawling into bed with a woman that night. Does this make me a prick? Maybe. But frankly, I don’t give a shit. Having my heart fileted by a woman was something I didn’t need to experience. If you put your heart on the line, getting it stomped on was inevitable. No thanks. I’ve seen it happen and that was one agony I’d hard pass on.

I leaned against the bar as I watched couples spinning on the dance floor during the reception. Bringing my glass to my lips, I took a fiery pull of my bourbon on the rocks, draining it, and enjoying the burn before it smoothed out.

“Another?” the bartender asked as I placed the empty glass on the bar top.

I nodded as I unfastened my cuff links and deposited them into my pocket. Then, I rolled the sleeves of my dress shirt up to the mid-point on my forearm, exposing part of my tattoo sleeve, which was as far as they’d go before my muscles got in the way. I’d already shed the jacket and tie earlier in the night. Frankly, I was proud of myself for lasting as long as I had in that monkey suit. It'd been a long damn day. Not to mention, I’d had to pose for an ungodly number of photos. If I never saw a camera again, it’d be too soon. The bartender passed me another bourbon and I tilted my chin in thanks before resuming my perch and scanning the room again looking for my target.

Before the wedding, Dylan had made it clear to both Jace and I—the only single groomsmen (not counting his brother Kyle because he couldn’t be less interested in the tail)—that hooking up with bridesmaids was a no-go. I’d listened and nodded in agreement, but in truth, if I found someone I liked, I was going for it. Sorry, not sorry, Dylan. Then, at the rehearsal dinner, my sister, Lana, who was one of the bridesmaids on account of her being engaged to Dylan’s brother, Jesse, made me swear to keep my hands off the women in the bridal party. She’d said something along the lines of, “I’ve got to deal with them all weekend, and I really don’t want to show up at the brunch on Sunday and have to listen to any of them bitch about how you screwed them then left like it meant nothing.”

My sister knew me well. She’d put up with a lot of my shit over the years, so I’d give her this one concession. I’d crossed my heart and promised not to touch the bridesmaids. Admittedly, it was probably for the best. Being that it was a destination wedding at a ski resort in upstate New York, I’d be trapped with them for an entire weekend, too. That was practically asking for a clinger. No thank you. While Dylan and Lana had been explicit about my pursuing a bridesmaid, they’d said nothing about any of the other attendees. Should I have inferred that all friends and family members of the bride and groom were off limits? Yeah, probably. But I was more of an ask for forgiveness, not permission kinda guy.

When I ’d gotten to the resort, I’d scouted out a few options that I’d planned on pursuing, but that had been before I’d seen her. She’d waltzed onto the patio where the ceremony rehearsal had been held, looking uptight as fuck in her black and white pinstripe pant suit clutching an iPad, but when I’d caught sight of the iconic red soles on her black high heels, my interest had piqued. Not a blond hair had been out of place in the sophisticated looking bun atop her head and her makeup had been flawless. While she’d been busy doing whatever wedding planners do, I’d been busy watching her. She’d commanded the scene and I’d immediately deduced that she was wound up like a fucking toy.

Yes, she was perfect. I’d convince her to let her hair down and get her to release all of that pent up tension that clutched her shoulders, pinning them back super-humanly straight. I’d spent all of the previous night, studying her from a distance trying to figure out what made her confidence peak (giving her staff tasks); what made her smile (watching the couple be all cute and coupley); what made her brow furrow (the servers bringing out the wrong hors d’oeuvres); what made her let her guard down (nothing).

All I’d have to do was fuck her with my eyes all day, slide in a few flattering lines mixed with some surprising ones, and flash her a smile that made her curious to know more. She’d be writhing beneath me in no time. I’d bet anything she’d never been with a man like me before.

I swirled my bourbon letting some of the ice melt to dilute it. Gwendolyn Roth, I’d come to learn, was one of the Roths—as in the billionaire family who owned a good chunk of Manhattan. Forget leagues, she wasn’t even on the same planet as I was. As a crass Scotch-Irishman with tattoos and an affinity for beating the piss out of grown men in an MMA cage, my calloused hands didn’t belong anywhere near her body.

But that’s what made me want to put them on her most. I’d show her how a real man pleasured a woman. I’d make her come on my fingers, my tongue, my cock…hell, I’d get the princess to let down her hair and enjoy herself for once in her damn life. Sure, I didn’t know her, but I didn’t have to in order to know that my analysis was dead on. I was good at reading people—especially women.

Her pretty hazel eyes had paused on mine out in the garden when I’d given her a look that said, I see you. And I want to see more of you. She’d frozen on the spot, her ivory cheeks flushing a pale pink. Following my stare was a smirk that had her spinning from the spot she’d frozen to, breaking eye contact, and seeking out her fancy insulated water bottle.

Game on.

With the reception in full swing, her job was largely over so it was time to make my move. I’d been fucking her with my eyes all damn day and even though I’d yet to say a single word to her, I knew I had her hooked. To a woman like her, I was danger personified. In my experience, every good girl craved the bad boy experience, at least once. And that’s what I could offer Gwen. One night of unrestricted pleasure.

My eyes found her off to the side gazing out the window at the mountains. That was my cue. Turning to the bartender, I said, “Could I get two glasses of champagne?”

He cocked his head at me as I’d been drinking bourbon all night. I knew how I looked. I made my living as a fireman and a fighter. My muscles stretched the limits of the tux and my close-cropped strawberry-blond hair gave me a military vibe. Then there was that scar in my eyebrow and, of course, all the tattoos, some of which were revealed since I’d rolled up my shirt sleeves. In short, guys like me didn’t have champagne tastes. To the guy’s credit, he didn’t question me and simply poured the flutes before sliding them across the bar.

Taking them both in one hand, I licked my lips to give them an attention-getting shine and made my way over to her. Coming from behind, I leaned over and whispered, “See anything interesting?”

She startled, her hand flying to her chest as she spun toward me, but she recovered quickly. Shrugging, she replied, “I don’t get out of the city much. The mountains are a nice change.”

I nodded, taking a step so that I was beside her and peering out the picture window. “I’d have to agree with you there. Although there’s not much to see now that it’s dark. Especially with the reflection.” I turned to look at her and the way her breath hitched as she gazed into my emerald eyes wasn’t lost on me. Women loved my eyes. Letting my lips curve upward into a friendly grin, I asked, “I was just about to go out and get some fresh air. Care to join me?”

She hesitated. Her head scanned the room and I imagined her mind going through a list of catastrophic scenarios that could occur if she wasn’t there to supervise.

I nudged her shoulder with my bicep. “The party’s pretty much over. Everything’s gone off without a hitch. They can do without you for ten-minutes.”

She bit her lower lip and fuck I wanted to grab it with my fingers and tell her that I’d be the only one biting that pretty pink pout of hers that night.

Flatter her. “Your assistant seems competent. I take it you hired her? Trained her?”

She nodded.

“Then the party is in good hands.” I stepped away from her, and headed for the door. “Come on.”

She followed.

Atta girl, princess.

I slid open the patio door and let her step out first. There was a slight chill despite it being late June, but the clean mountain air felt good. Gwen’s heels clicked on the stone patio as we made our way to the edge, right at the base of the mountain. She crossed her arms and inhaled deeply, closing her eyes. This was the most relaxed I’d seen her in the two days we’d been there.

Filling the space beside her on the railing, I handed her one of the champagne flutes. “For you.”

“Oh. Thank you, but—”

“It’ll help keep you warm,” I coaxed. “Besides, we should toast to your success. And one glass won’t kill you.” Then I leaned close enough to her ear to give her goosebumps and whispered, “I promise not to tell.”

She took the flute from my hand with a grin. “Thank you.”

I held mine out. “Cheers to you for successfully getting my friends married.”

She clinked her glass to mine and gave me a smile that sent my heart into a weird rhythm for the briefest moment. I chose not to dwell on it. All was forgotten when she brought the flute to her lips and I imagined how she’d taste.

I took a sip of mine as well, trying not to scrunch up my face. Champagne was low on my list of choice beverages. I held my right hand out to her. “We haven’t officially met, even though you’ve been bossing me around all day.”

That earned me a sexy smirk.

“I’m Declan Murphy.”

“Gwendolyn Roth.” She slid her dainty hand into mine. It was soft and smooth and I didn’t want to let go, but I had to. We weren’t there yet.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

She took another sip of champagne. “Likewise.”

We both gazed out into the darkness, the sound of crickets and frogs and nocturnal birds filled the night. I leaned both arms on the railing. “It’s peaceful here.”

She nodded. “Yes. Quite so.”

I’d hoped she’d lean with me, but she didn’t. Maybe the one-percent didn’t lean. Or we weren’t connected enough for her to mimic my movements yet. That’s all right. We’ll get there.

Glancing at her through the corner of my eyes, I found her ogling the tattoos on my exposed forearm. Nonchalantly, I clenched and released my fist, making my muscles bulge further and my ink dance along my skin. She watched and I could practically feel her desire to reach out and trace the lines of my Celtic design with her fingertips as I kept up my show.

Time to surprise. “You have any ink?”

Her stare snapped away from my arm. “Excuse me?”

I held my arm up. “Tattoos?”

She shook her head vehemently as she blushed from having been caught staring. “No.”

I already had the top button of my shirt undone, so I went for the next two buttons as I spoke. “I’ve got a sleeve. It’s a Celtic tribal design that stretches over my shoulder and onto my chest.” I turned to her and pulled aside the top of my shirt. “See?”

Her eyes fell to my partially exposed pecs. The very tip of her tongue poked through her lips before retreating. I doubted she even knew she’d done it. Releasing my shirt, I forced myself to take another sip of champagne, keeping my eyes fixed on her hazel spheres that reflected the light of the nearly full moon.

“They’re nice,” she said.

This was the closest I’d been to her all weekend and damn was she even more beautiful up close. Her bone structure was sharp, but perfectly symmetrical, reminding me of a runway model, though she wasn’t quite tall enough for that. Even in her heels, which I estimated to be about four inches, she was eye-level with my chin. At six-foot-one, I wasn’t terribly tall, but my muscles gave me a larger appearance, and she was thin—almost too thin—making her seem all the more delicate and fragile in comparison to me. Her blond hair was pinned back in one of those chignon things, at least that’s what my sister had called it, which served to accentuate her pronounced cheek bones.

Back to flattery. I flashed her a smile. “Anyone ever tell you you look like Natalie Portman?” She had the same naturally classic beauty about her.

Her lips ticked up on one side. “Actually, yes. When my hair was darker, I got that quite often. Not as much anymore.”

Letting my voice dip low, I said, “You’re strikingly beautiful, Gwen.”

She blinked at me blankly for a moment before responding. “Oh, umm, thank you.”

I needed to know what it was that had made her uneasy with the compliment, but before I could ask, she offered the information up to me.

“No one’s ever called me Gwen.”

I cocked my head. “No?”

“It’s always Gwendolyn.”

I thought about offering to call her by her full name, but I kinda like that I was the only one to ever call her that. “Well, I guess that’ll be our thing then, Gwen.”

She smiled and the flecks of gold in her eyes sparkled in the moonlight as she turned her head. “I think I like it.”

Laughing, I replied, “Good. So do I.”

I’d noticed that she’d ditched the blazer she’d been wearing a little while earlier, leaving her in a sleeveless black cocktail dress. Tiny goosebumps had formed over her ivory skin. Placing a hand on her upper arm, overtaking her bicep beneath with my palm, I rubbed. “You cold?”

She didn’t flinch. The opposite actually. She leaned into my touch. “A little.”

After releasing her long enough to put my glass down on a nearby table, I came up behind her and placed a hand on each of her shoulders. Pulling her back, I eased her against my chest then rubbed her arms, letting the friction build.

“I’d offer you my jacket, but it was too hot in there with all those layers, so I ditched it. I can give you my shirt if you’d like. As long as I won’t get kicked out for walking around here shirtless.”

Laughter shook her body against mine. “While I’m sure that would be quite a sight, and I appreciate the gesture, I’ll be okay. Thank you, though. It’s sweet of you to offer.”

Was my princess flirting back with me?

I bent my lips toward her ear and whispered, “Of course, I’m happy to keep you warm.”

She didn’t stiffen. She didn’t step away. So, I kept grazing her smooth skin with my calloused hands.

“Since you know what I do, tell me about yourself,” she asked.

While I knew what she meant, I couldn’t resist the chance to mess with her. “Well, I’m a taurus. My favorite color is green. My favorite food is pizza. The thin crust kind, none of that Chicago garbage.”

She laughed. “While all that is good to know, I meant what do you do?”

“Ahh, but you could easily find that out. As for my favorite color, I’m willing to bet you’re one of maybe three people at this party who knows that answer.”

She hummed. “Valid point. I’m a virgo and my favorite color is pink.”

My lips curled up, not surprised in the least by that last admission. When she didn’t continue, I asked, “And your favorite food?”

She sighed. “I suppose niçoise salad.”

My hands froze. “Your favorite food is salad?”

She tensed slightly, so I continued to rub her arms, eventually feeling her relax beneath my touch. “Not just any salad. The niçoise salad from Balthazar. Have you ever been?”

“Can’t say that I have.” I knew Balthazar to be a trendy French restaurant in SoHo, but that really wasn’t my scene.

“You should go. It’s amazing. If you’re from the city, that is. I just assumed with your accent...”

I rested the side of my jaw against her head, getting a good whiff of her honey and amber scented hair. “I live in Brooklyn.”

“So do I,” a hint of excitement filled her voice. “I’m in DUMBO. What part do you live in?”

She lived close. Too close. That should’ve been my cue to release her and back away, abandoning my plan. But for some reason I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

“Declan?”

“Sorry. Uh, I’ve got a place in Williamsburg.”

“Oh, we're neighbors then. I adore Williamsburg. Have you been to the Brooklyn Winery?”

“No, I haven’t.” I kept to the same local haunts. None of the pretention, all of the cheap beer.

She spun around to face me. Dangerously close. I didn’t let go even as she smiled up at me—all innocence and goodness. “What? We’ve got to change that.”

We’ve? Fuck. I didn’t belong with a woman like her. And she sure as hell didn’t need to get mixed up with me. But why couldn’t I let her go? Her bright, hazel eyes locked with mine, no doubt sensing my desire because her smile fell and I caught a glimpse of the heavy rise and fall of her chest. No words were said. We simply stood there staring at each other. And it did all sorts of screwed up things to my insides.

Warning bells blared in my head, but my body ignored them. My neck curved downward, bringing my lips inches from hers. She didn’t move away. Didn’t say a word. Hell, she angled her neck backward, giving me easier access to her lips.

Warning! Warning! You’re feeling something here, Murph. Back the fuck up. Abort! Abort!

Her name fell from my lips in a whisper. “Gwen…” It was a warning for her to pull away from me because I clearly had lost my mind and was seriously about to go through with kissing her.

But she didn’t move. No. Her perfect pink lips parted with a soft exhale and I was screwed.

The sound of the sliding door squeaking open behind me broke our trance. My hands fell from her arms and I stumbled back as a few of the guests—firemen I assumed based on the boisterousness of their laughter and voices—filed onto the patio behind me.

Unsure who looked away first, I avoided making eye contact with Gwen again as I said, “It was good talking to you. I’d better get back inside.”

“Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “Me, too.” Her heels clicked against the stone. “Thanks for the champagne.”

“Sure thing.” I dipped my chin as she passed me, then followed behind her from a safe distance as we went back into the ballroom and turned opposite directions.

I bellied up to the bar and ordered another bourbon, desperately needing to shake off whatever the fuck that was. One minute I was flirting, getting her to warm up to me, and the next…

The bartender handed me the glass and I didn’t bother to wait for the ice to melt before taking a gulp. The next…I was feeling like I wanted to cuddle her against me and never let go. I laughed to myself. Declan Murphy didn’t cuddle. And I sure as hell didn’t catch feelings. I ran a finger over my eyebrow—the one with the scar—and I downed the rest of my bourbon, then promptly ordered another. If I wasn’t getting laid, I was getting drunk.

One thing was certain: I’d be staying far away from Gwendolyn Roth.

Gwen

I slipped into the coat room closet, glad to find it empty, and planted my back against the wall. What on earth was that? I’d nearly kissed a total stranger, which was so not like me. While I wasn’t a prude, I’d never had an intimate moment of any sort with a man I hadn’t been dating. Even then, I’d never experienced such magnetism. I’d let Declan hold me against his strong, broad chest, rubbing my arms, making me feel safe, and all I knew about the man was his favorite food, favorite color, astrological sign, and the neighborhood he lived in. We’d spoken for all of ten minutes, maybe, and if those guys hadn’t come out onto the patio, interrupting us, I would’ve let him kiss me.

I slammed my hand against my forehead. “God, what were you thinking?” I murmured. I was at work. I’m a professional for heaven’s sake. I’d never allowed myself to be distracted at an event like that before, let alone act like a teenager because the sexiest guy in the room brought me a glass of champagne. I whimpered. “Pull it together, Gwendolyn.” After a few steadying breaths, I went back into the ballroom and prepared for the final task of the evening: the cake cutting.

Once the dessert had been served and the party had wound down, I sought out my clients to wish them good night. Dylan had his arm draped around Autumn, both of them looking deliriously happy, and they were surrounded by a few members of the bridal party. Thankfully, Declan wasn’t one of them.

“Pardon me.” I stepped into their circle. “I wanted to congratulate you both again and say thank you for trusting me with your special day.”

Autumn stepped away from her new husband and flung her arms around me. “Thank you so much for everything, Gwendolyn. It was absolutely perfect.” She released me and I couldn’t help the warm, happy feeling filling me up.

“Yes, thank you.” Dylan shook my hand.

“It was my pleasure.”

One of the bridesmaids, Lana, clapped her hands together. “Gwendolyn, you must do Jesse’s and my wedding next spring.” Her emerald green eyes were wide with excitement and something clicked as I remembered the names on the bridal party roster. Lana Murphy. Declan Murphy. No doubt they were related.

I blushed. “Oh. Sure, why don’t you give me a call this week and we can set up a meeting.”

“Perfect.” She flashed me a familiar grin.

I needed to get out of there. “I’ll make sure the brunch is set up for you tomorrow. Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”

Autumn nodded. “Thank you.”

I spun on my heels and made a beeline for the hallway, picking up speed the closer I got because obviously if I walked faster, he wouldn’t see me. Once down the hall, I squeezed into the elevator as the doors were shutting. I was about to release a sigh of relief, but coughed instead when the doors closed behind me, trapping me in the elevator with the one person I’d been hiding from.

“Declan,” the name fell from my lips, not so much addressed to him as it was the result of my shock.

His eyes widened. Clearly, he’d been as surprised as I’d been, but then his shoulders released and he grinned. “Gwen.”

I stood there staring at him like an idiot. Why couldn’t I recover as quickly as he did?

“What floor are you going to?”

“Right.” I spun around, facing the panel of buttons, finding that my floor was already lit up. Of course. “Looks like we’re going to the same place.” I stepped backward, placing my back firmly against the mirrored wall, nowhere near him.

He chuckled, but said nothing, and I didn’t engage.

Goodness, Gwendolyn, you’re twenty-seven-years-old. Get over yourself! You can handle being in an elevator with an attractive man. I managed a small smile and loosened my grip on the railing behind me. No, that wasn’t accurate. Declan wasn’t an attractive man. He was sexy to the point of being sinful. That man had basically had me wrapped in his arms not even an hour before, but seeing him in the brightly lit elevator made my pulse quicken. His jacket was draped over his arm and his tie hung like a scarf over his shoulders.

I had to force myself not to look at the exposed skin where he’d left his buttons undone, imagining the tattoos he’d shown me. I cleared my throat. “Did you enjoy the wedding?”

He nodded. “I did.”

“That’s good.” I stifled a groan. Why am I so awkward?

“One part in particular, I found to be quite enjoyable.”

“Oh?”

He took a step toward me and his bright eyes practically sparkled. “Yeah.”

No other words were needed. I knew what he meant, and he knew that I knew.

I pressed my lips together.

The elevator dinged on our floor and the doors opened.

“After you.” Declan put his arm out to make sure it didn’t close on me.

“Thanks.” I stepped past him and turned right. He followed. When I arrived at my door. I stopped and he did as well. I cursed myself for not having dug my key card out while in the elevator. As I searched through my purse for my wallet, he leaned against the wall beside my room.

“Might as well make sure you get in safely. Since I’m here.” His voice was deep and sultry. The man practically had a neon sign flashing above his head that said, Made for Sex. For the first time in my life, the thought of having a one-night stand crossed my mind. Albeit, a fleeting thought, but still a thought.

I located my keycard, but it fell through my fingers as I pulled it from my wallet.

Declan retrieved it from the ground, slid it in the door, then turned the handle and pushed inward, holding it open with his foot, before handing the card back to me.

I gulped. “Thanks.”

His pupils widened, swallowing up his irises. “You’re welcome.”

Neither of us moved.

Want to come in? was on the tip of my tongue. Except I wasn’t one of those girls.

Declan reached a hand toward my face and I didn’t move—didn’t even breathe—as he swept an errant hair behind my ear. His hand lingered against my cheek and I practically melted. When he dropped his hand, I instantly missed the tingle. I held my breath as he bent down and kissed my forehead softly. “Good night, Gwen.”

My mouth went completely dry and I fumbled, “G-good night.”

He pushed my door all the way open and I forced myself through it, leaving him in the hall. Once safely in my room, I reclined against the door and breathed deeply. My head was spinning. If he’d have asked to come in, I would’ve let him, and I had no clue as to why. I’d been able to control myself around men before, why was this any different? The idea of having sex with a random stranger had never appealed to me, yet there I was, closing my eyes and imagining Declan in my room. In my bed. Naked.

My thighs clenched. I was a good girl. I didn’t do drugs, I didn’t drink in excess, I’d never skipped school, had never gotten a speeding ticket, and most definitely had never wanted to have a one-night stand with a god-like specimen of the male species. Why not, Gwen? I tested out his nickname for me, liking it. A lot. That was a good question. I was an adult. Plenty of women enjoyed casual sex. It’d been a couple of months since I’d even had sex, so why couldn’t I allow myself one night of pleasure. No pressure. No dating. Just…feeling…

Before I could give it a second thought I spun around, opened the door to my hotel room, and nearly collided with Declan, making me squeal.

“Sorry, princess. Didn’t mean to scare ya.” His voice was low and gravely and spoke directly to my core.

“What—?” I couldn’t bring myself to finish the sentence. I didn’t have to because he read my mind.

He ran a hand over his short strawberry-blond hair. “I told myself I’d wait for a few minutes and if you didn’t open the door, I’d go to my room and forget about whatever the fuck it is I’m feeling here.”

I blinked.

“Christ, I didn’t expect you to actually open the door.” He huffed out a small laugh.

I whispered, “I’m…umm, I’m not sure why I did.”

He nodded slowly, resting a hand against the door frame. “Tell me to go to my room, Gwen. Tell me not to touch you. Not to kiss you. Not to fuck you on every inch of this hotel room.”

I gulped and his eyes dropped to my throat.

“Shit, princess,” he growled. “I’m no good for you.”

My heart drummed against my ribs as I choked out, “Yes.”

His eyelids shuttered for a brief moment. “Yes, go to my room?”

I bit my lip.

“Or yes come in?”

My body forgot to breathe as I took a step to the side, making space for him to pass me, my eyes never leaving his.

His arm dropped from the doorway and he stood, towering over me with his presence. “Do you know what you’re asking for?” He pinned me with his stare.

I nodded. “Yes.”

He took a step forward, so he was half-in and half-out of my room. His gaze dropped to my lips and I took a step inside, letting the door fall from behind me, and he thrust his hand forward, stopping it from closing on him as he straddled the entrance.

He took a deep breath. “Last chance, Gwen.”

I clenched my fists by my side, digging my nails into my palms, and managed to say, “Come in, Declan.”

In a swift move, he was in my room, the door shut, his jacket discarded on the ground and he had me pinned against the wall with his body. His breath smelled of whisky and spearmint gum, but I liked it. It was manly and—

His lips crashed into mine and oh good lord, I saw stars. There were tiny explosions everywhere behind my eyelids as his palms hit the wall, caging me in. He wasn’t kissing me—he was devouring me, and I’d never felt so desired before. I moaned into his mouth and laced my fingers behind his neck. He answered me with a groan that was portentous and dominant and I knew then that I’d made a good decision. Declan was going to show me how sex—in its primal form—was supposed to be.

And that’s how I ended up having my one and only one-night stand, and I knew from the moment he’d kissed me, I’d never—ever—forget it.

Ready for more Declan and Gwen?

Burning for Love will be released on April 14, 2021

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