your bed after satisfying you for hours and you don’t even look up. But the first mention of food, and you’re scrambling to get dressed,” he teased. Although, if he were honest, it had stung the smallest amount when Marlee hadn’t reached for him when he’d risen.
Declan had gotten out of a lot of beds, and that had never happened before. Normally the woman would be in his arms like a shot, kissing and caressing, reaching for his dick to try to get him to stay. Just another way Marlee was different.
“Priorities. It’s all about priorities,” Marlee shot back as she breezed past him. On her way to the door she stopped and reached to the floor for something, unknowingly giving Declan an eyeful as the shirt slid up her long thighs and revealed just the beginnings of her heart-shaped ass. She came up with the retrieved item—his scarf—slung it around her neck, flipped the excess around her shoulders like an old-time daredevil pilot, and proceeded out the bedroom door.
The sight of Marlee, long hair finally totally unbound and disheveled from their escapades, wearing only his shirt and scarf, made Declan harden again. The idea of Marlee wearing only the scarf about sent him through the roof.
His stomach growled, and for a moment Declan couldn’t decide which of his basic needs he would satisfy first. He followed her downstairs.
The lights had been out when Declan had carried Marlee upstairs. She’d now turned them on so they could find their way to the kitchen. Declan was shocked at Marlee’s living room decor. It was nearly a mirror image of his own. It was smaller, more modest, but the same layout, the same style, the same obvious care had gone into her choices as had his.
It was a country/contemporary look. It had warm, soft, oversized furniture that was certainly passable for formal entertaining, but was meant to be used by a family. Comfort being the main goal. A chair and a half with a large ottoman, an inviting sofa, a wooden rocker with a chenille throw lying over one of its arms.
One of the walls was painted a deep, dramatic color that Declan figured had some fancy name, but looked like a deep pink or light red to him. It was eye-catching, and was something he had tried in his home, only with a different color. He liked the way Marlee’s had turned out better. The textures were warm cottons and chenilles, deep, rich colors that made the room seem welcoming instead of formal. The fireplace was the focal point of the room, just as Declan had designed his.
He walked to the fireplace, drawn to the family photos displayed on the mantel. He had done the same thing at his place. Marlee had used wooden frames, all different, for her photos, while Declan had gone the same route, but with silver frames.
Marlee joined him. “I know, I know…it should be a gas fireplace. I thought about converting it. I know the sell…they’re cleaner, less mess, more heat, controllable, but…”
“It’s just not the same as burning wood,” Declan finished. “I feel the same way. I went round and round with the contractor over mine, but I was adamant. I wanted a real one. Plus, I love to chop my own wood every spring. It’s great for keeping my throwing shoulder loose during the off-season.” He pointed to the mantel. “I like what you’ve done with the pictures. I kind of tried the same thing. Problem is, my nieces and nephews grow so fast, it’s almost impossible to keep the damned things updated.”
Marlee chuckled. “I know what you mean. See him?” Declan followed her finger as she pointed to a photo of a cherubic three-year-old in a Captain Hook costume, holding what was undoubtedly a trick-or-treat bag. He had Marlee’s auburn hair, in a little boy’s mushroom cut, and Declan leaned in closer to see the boy had Marlee’s warm green-gold eyes as well.
“He’s now a freshman in high school. The others are more recent; I just could never bring myself to take this one down.
Declan had gotten out of a lot of beds, and that had never happened before. Normally the woman would be in his arms like a shot, kissing and caressing, reaching for his dick to try to get him to stay. Just another way Marlee was different.
“Priorities. It’s all about priorities,” Marlee shot back as she breezed past him. On her way to the door she stopped and reached to the floor for something, unknowingly giving Declan an eyeful as the shirt slid up her long thighs and revealed just the beginnings of her heart-shaped ass. She came up with the retrieved item—his scarf—slung it around her neck, flipped the excess around her shoulders like an old-time daredevil pilot, and proceeded out the bedroom door.
The sight of Marlee, long hair finally totally unbound and disheveled from their escapades, wearing only his shirt and scarf, made Declan harden again. The idea of Marlee wearing only the scarf about sent him through the roof.
His stomach growled, and for a moment Declan couldn’t decide which of his basic needs he would satisfy first. He followed her downstairs.
The lights had been out when Declan had carried Marlee upstairs. She’d now turned them on so they could find their way to the kitchen. Declan was shocked at Marlee’s living room decor. It was nearly a mirror image of his own. It was smaller, more modest, but the same layout, the same style, the same obvious care had gone into her choices as had his.
It was a country/contemporary look. It had warm, soft, oversized furniture that was certainly passable for formal entertaining, but was meant to be used by a family. Comfort being the main goal. A chair and a half with a large ottoman, an inviting sofa, a wooden rocker with a chenille throw lying over one of its arms.
One of the walls was painted a deep, dramatic color that Declan figured had some fancy name, but looked like a deep pink or light red to him. It was eye-catching, and was something he had tried in his home, only with a different color. He liked the way Marlee’s had turned out better. The textures were warm cottons and chenilles, deep, rich colors that made the room seem welcoming instead of formal. The fireplace was the focal point of the room, just as Declan had designed his.
He walked to the fireplace, drawn to the family photos displayed on the mantel. He had done the same thing at his place. Marlee had used wooden frames, all different, for her photos, while Declan had gone the same route, but with silver frames.
Marlee joined him. “I know, I know…it should be a gas fireplace. I thought about converting it. I know the sell…they’re cleaner, less mess, more heat, controllable, but…”
“It’s just not the same as burning wood,” Declan finished. “I feel the same way. I went round and round with the contractor over mine, but I was adamant. I wanted a real one. Plus, I love to chop my own wood every spring. It’s great for keeping my throwing shoulder loose during the off-season.” He pointed to the mantel. “I like what you’ve done with the pictures. I kind of tried the same thing. Problem is, my nieces and nephews grow so fast, it’s almost impossible to keep the damned things updated.”
Marlee chuckled. “I know what you mean. See him?” Declan followed her finger as she pointed to a photo of a cherubic three-year-old in a Captain Hook costume, holding what was undoubtedly a trick-or-treat bag. He had Marlee’s auburn hair, in a little boy’s mushroom cut, and Declan leaned in closer to see the boy had Marlee’s warm green-gold eyes as well.
“He’s now a freshman in high school. The others are more recent; I just could never bring myself to take this one down.
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