Sunbeams and Thunderstorms (now published so sample only)

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Summer shifted in her sleep but something seemed different, a delicious difference she wanted to keep with her. She knew that scent, she knew it all too well. With a sigh, she burrowed beneath her covers and tried not to think about Declan as her first thought of the morning.

"Good morning, Sunbeam." His voice, the voice she craved to hear sounded so close.

She squeezed her eyes tight shut. It took effort, but she had to clamp down on the desperate need to call out his name. Her heart began to pound and she bit down on her lip.

"God, how I've missed you." He kept speaking words she wanted to hear but Summer froze.

She sat upright in a rush. With her hope growing, she turned to face what she assumed was an apparition. Her jaw dropped open when she saw a half-naked Declan taking up a good portion of her bed.

That small smile of his appeared and she could only stare. He had no right to look so darn perfect! Her eyes didn't move from drinking in his familiar figure and then his handsome face. A frown marred her forehead before the smile could come forth.

She scrubbed her hands together and forced her eyes to stare at them instead of him. Was he lying there looking smug and glorious or had her overactive imagination taken control?

"Declan?" her voice choked out his name.

"Morning, Sunbeam." The smile he gave her this time seemed nervous and she raised her brows.

"I'm not dreaming." She gulped in a breath.

"But you were last night when you called out my name." his teasing comment earned a glare.

"Give me a minute here." She scrubbed her hands into her hair and rubbed her eyes.

"I like that portrait of me. It's got to be the best one I've ever seen."

Declan pointed to the portrait and Summer winced. She had painted that without even realising one afternoon. After setting up her paints, she had stared at the blank canvas only for his face to appear in her mind. A few hours later, she had that painting of him forever engrained in paint strokes. She couldn't bring herself to throw it away, so she placed it in the one spot she never thought to find him, her bedroom.

"Shut up, Declan. I need to think," she stood up and marched over to the window until she heard a strange groaning noise from Declan. "What is it?"

"You're wearing my shirt." His voice deepened and settled over her with a thrill.

She knew she couldn't deny it when she always wore his shirt to bed, but she intended to try, "I am not."

"Yes, you are, baby. I'd know that shirt anywhere and it's mine." He jumped off the bed and approached her.

"Don't call me that!" she snapped.

"What?"

"Don't call me something you've probably called a hundred other women." She narrowed her eyes on him.

"Sunbeam."

"And now you sound patronising. Get out!" she thrust a hand towards the door.

"I didn't mean anything by it. Give me a chance here."

"Don't walk into my home and presume you can tell me what to do." Her voice turned cold as ice.

"I'm not telling you to do anything, Sunbeam."

"You left me and I'm not allowing you to hurt me like that anymore. Leave now."

"If you give me a minute to explain." He pleaded.