Declan’s hands were under my shirt then, kneading me through my bra. “Did Trick say no more shower sex, or is all bathroom sex completely verboten?” Declan asked as he nibbled his way down my jaw and onto my neck. His fingers dipped under my bra so he could trace the soft undersides of my breasts while brushing over my nipples with his thumb. At the same time, he gently bit the spot where my shoulder and neck met. Whatever answer I’d been about to utter came out as gibberish.

“You’re right,” Declan said, acting like I’d given him a real answer. “Best not push it. Especially since we don’t know where the ferrets are and they tattle.”

He eased back from me and for a moment, I thought he was going to call everything off. I may have actually squeaked in protest, a sound I wasn’t proud of but was too far gone to care about. I grabbed his belt, yanked him back, and moved to undo his zipper. In a second, I had him in my hand, caressing the soft heat of him with my fingers.

Declan let out a moan and braced himself against the counter with his palms. I loved the feel of him, but also the knowledge that he was as completely undone by me as I was by him. Still, it wasn’t enough. I wanted more.

Now it was Declan’s turn to let out an undignified squeak as I let him go and nudged him back. I leaned over, locked the door, and hopped off the counter. I pushed him against the sink, dropping my knees, the thud softened by the thick bathmat.

Making quick work of Declan’s belt, I shoved his jeans down around his thighs. I’d never known I had a thing for thighs until I saw Declan’s, but they were a work of art. I’d paint them, if I could paint. Sculpting was equally out of the question. Or I’d maybe write an ode to them, except I couldn’t write either. Since I couldn’t do them justice through art, I did them justice with my tongue and fingernails, his breath stuttering out of him before I even took him in my mouth.

Declan put his hand in my hair, closing a fist around a handful of it close to my scalp. He pulled—not hard, just enough to make me moan around him. He shuddered at the sensation, his breath gusting out of him.

“Fuck, that’s—” He groaned again, words dying as I took him deeper, pulling back slowly and circling my tongue around the head. He moaned again, louder this time. I didn’t think anyone was home, but Declan could get loud sometimes. I leaned back, using one hand to slide over his shaft as I reached into the lower cabinet and grabbed a washcloth.

Letting him go for a moment, I stood, rolled up the washcloth, and held it in front of his face. “I have a suggestion.”

His brows drew together. “I have a wash?”