Turning onto my side to face him, I

Turning onto my side to face him, I say, “I’ll try, okay? But I can’t promise anything.”
He nods, and for several seconds, the only sound in the room is the movie. I’m not watching it, though. My eyes are glued to him, roaming over anything and everything I see. 
I’ve never allowed myself to look at him this long or openly. It’s like my eyes are greedy for him, like they’re making up for lost time. 
My fingers skim his arm, pausing on a rose. I still can’t get over the detail and shading of his tattoos. These must have taken hours to do.
“My mom’s name was Rose.” Declan’s voice breaks my concentration. “They’re for her.”
I can’t even imagine what it’s like to have a real parent, let alone one you loved. . . How different would my life have turned out if I had decent parents? Where would I be? Who would I be?
There’s no way to know. But I can unequivocally say I wouldn’t be lying here with Declan right now, and for once, I think I’m glad life has led me here, to this exact moment. 
I trace the rose and glance up at him. “What was she like?”
His breath leaves him on a long exhale. He rolls onto his back, but not before I see his brows bunch. “Loyal to a fault. She was the warmest, kindest person I’ve ever met. Loved my dad more than he deserved. 
“She stuck by him through everything—every DUI, every ruined holiday, every time he gambled away their mortgage payment. I’d get so mad at her for staying with him every time he fucked up. I mean, I was just a little kid, but I knew she deserved better than him. I knew she could leave him if she wanted. But she wouldn’t. 
“She’d just tell me when you marry somebody, you take the bad with the good. Said he wasn’t always like that, that he was sick and he needed our help to get back to good.” His jaw tenses. “And then one day he just left. After everything she did for him, everything he put her through, he just walked away from her like it was nothing.”
I study his face as he looks at the ceiling, but he’s not really seeing it. He’s too busy reliving something awful from his past. 
“Have you seen him since then?” The words are quiet as they leave me. I don’t want to encroach on whatever’s going on inside his head, but I’m curious. Plus, I think we’ve established by now that questions are fair game.
If he can ask me if I got off the last time I had sex, I think I can ask him if he’s seen his father.
Declan shakes his head. “Blake has, but I refuse to. As far as I’m concerned, he died the second he walked out that door.”
His jaw’s grown tighter the longer he’s talked and I’m regretting ever bringing up his mom to begin with. I hadn’t meant to put a damper on the conversation.
Since we’re in a sharing kind of mood, I do something I’ve never done before: talk about my father. There’s really nothing to tell, but maybe it’ll get his mind off his parents to talk about someone else’s.
I roll onto my stomach and say, “I’ve never met my dad. Don’t even know his name.”
He looks over at me and pets my hair. “Do you remember your mom at all?”
“I have little snippets of memories, but not many. I can’t even remember what she looked like, really, just that her eyes were supposed to be blue.”
“Supposed to be?”
Shit.
My mouth snaps shut at my slip-up. ‘Her eyes were blue.’ Were blue. How friggin’ hard is it to say that?
I push away the last memory I have of her, fuzzy from my four-year-old mind, but haunting nonetheless. I didn’t tell Declan this, but I’m the one who found her after she overdosed on our couch. Her open eyes had turned gray and filmy, and she wouldn’t wake up, no matter how much I tugged on her and yelled. 
I finally went upstairs, to Mrs. Donaghy’s apartment, and asked her make me some cereal. It wasn’t the first time I’d turned to her when my mother was . . . indisposed, but it was the last.
I look away from Declan’s inquiring eyes, to his arm wrapped around my head. “Yeah, I think. I don’t really remember.” My fingers run up his forearm, then over the hard bulge of his bicep. “I love your tattoos,” I say, peeking underneath the sleeve of his t-shirt to get a better look.
He sits up and begins tugging his shirt over his head. I’m momentarily relieved that my distraction tactic worked, until his shirt lifts enough to reveal dark, discolored patches dotting his side. A few litter his chest. One big, oblong bruise covers his stomach.
My breath tangles in my throat as my heart literally stops. 
They look so much worse than the other night. What was once red, angry splotches have now turned into inky, black pools. 
There are so many of them.
Declan sinks back onto the pillows leaning against the headboard. I can tell he’s trying not to wince. 
A burning sensation settles into my eyes and I belatedly realize I’m trying not to cry. I swallow down the jumbled mess of emotions tearing through me and sit up. Maybe that will help me breathe, because for some reason, I can’t.
“I could kill whoever did this to you,” I say, running the lightest touch over a bruise on his side. His abs tense and I look up at his face, seeing his eyes clamped shut.
I jerk my hand back and grimace. I hadn’t meant to hurt him. “Sorry.” 
His eyes shoot open as he stills my hand. “Please, don’t stop. I love it when you touch me.”
That was a look of pleasure on his face?
He places my palm on his chest, right over his heart. I feel its steady thumping right under my fingers, under hard muscle and warm skin. I gnaw on my lip as my own heart skips a beat, then starts back up at a slightly faster clip. I think the damn thing’s trying to synchronize itself with Declan. 
“You sure I’m not hurting you?”
“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.” It’s obvious there’s a double meaning to his statement when he’s looking at me like that—like he just freaking won the lottery. It makes me wonder if he has an undiagnosed concussion or something. . .
After a beat, he removes his hand from mine and folds his arm behind his head, letting me know he’s mine to do with as I please. And right now, what I please is to see that look on his face again. The one that’s strung so tight in pleasure it almost looks painful.
My fingers carefully trail down the expanse of his torso. Every hard ridge I pass has my stomach somersaulting. It’s a beautiful sight to see him stretched out before me, bruises or not.
He’s perfect.
Scooting down the bed, I rest my hands on the mattress and lean down, placing soft kisses on the bruises lining his side. The ends of my hair brush against him as I go, but I don’t move it out of the way. Knowing how he feels about my hair, he probably loves this.
A quick glance up at him confirms it. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and his free hand fists the sheet on the other side of him. 
I smile against him and press my lips to his skin, noticing the way his abs tighten with every kiss. Not wanting to neglect them, I kiss my way down his stomach, and that’s when I see it. 
The look.
It’s even better than the first time I saw it. I watch his face while I kiss the dips and curves of his muscles, then boldly flick my tongue out in an open-mouthed kiss.
Declan’s reaction doesn’t disappoint. His lips part as his breath catches, and I know I’m in real trouble now. 
Because that just officially became my favorite sound in the whole world, and now I’m anxious to see what kinds of variations I can make him come up with.
Sitting up, I wait until his eyes open in a daze to say, “So did you ever finish, um, jackin’ your beanstalk that night?”
“No.” He puffs out a breath and scrubs his hands over his face, not even bothering to hide that he’s rock hard. “Call me crazy, but the mood was kind of ruined.”
My fingers skim the waistband of his pajama pants, then barely dip inside. “I could give you a hand, if you want.”
“Seriously?”
The look on his face right now would be funny if I wasn’t so turned on. “It’s only fair after you . . . you know, helped me out the other night.” I dip my fingers lower, grazing hair before he grabs my wrist and pulls me back.
Why does he look so pissed? I thought he’d want this.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Declan says as he sits up. “That’s not how this is gonna work. I don’t want you to do this because you feel like you owe me one. I want you to do this because you want to.”
I do want to. I want nothing more in the world right this second, but I’m not ready to admit just how bad I want it. So instead I yank my hand out of his grasp and say, “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t.”
His mouth breaks into a smile. “So you want to?”
God. I roll my eyes at his increasingly cocky grin. “Yes.” 
“Hmm. . .” He squints, like he’s really trying to figure out if he believes me. “I’m afraid I’m gonna need more convincing. Say, ‘Declan, I want to touch your cock.’”
Yeah, he’s perfect all right. A perfect ass.
My chin juts out as I stare at him. “I’m not saying that.”
He chuckles and leans down, kissing the spot on my shoulder where my shirt’s slipped down. “C’mon. I just need to make sure your heart’s in it. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
Bullshit. He just wants to hear me say it. I roll my eyes again and sigh. It’s too bad my desire to touch him and find out what he looks like when he comes apart from my doing far outweighs my reluctance to say those seven little words. So I mumble, “Declan, I want to touch your cock.”
He jerks back and holds up his hands, looking at me like I’m insane. “Slow down there, Kitten, this is our first date. I’m not gonna let you touch my cock on our first date. I’m not that kind of guy.”
If you look up “aghast” in the dictionary, I’m sure it’d have a picture of my face right now. “After all that and you tell me no?” I shriek. “Are you shitting me right now?”
“Maybe if you’re good I’ll let you touch it tomorrow.” Declan laughs and tries to fend off my hits as I swing at him.
“I hate you!”

Hasil (Bahasa Indonesia) 1:

Beralih ke sisi saya menghadapi dia, aku berkata, "Aku akan mencoba, oke? "Tapi aku tidak bisa menjanjikan apa-apa."Dia mengangguk, dan selama beberapa detik, hanya suara dalam kamar adalah film. Saya tidak menontonnya, meskipun. Mataku terpaku kepadanya, roaming atas apa saja dan segala sesuatu yang saya lihat. Aku sudah pernah membiarkan diriku untuk melihatnya ini lama atau secara terbuka. Hal ini seperti mataku serakah baginya, seperti mereka membuat untuk waktu yang hilang. Jari-jari saya skim lengannya, berhenti di mawar. Aku masih tidak bisa lebih detail dan shading tato nya. Ini harus diambil jam untuk melakukan."Nama ibu saya adalah Rose." Declan's suara istirahat konsentrasi saya. "Mereka sedang baginya."Aku bahkan tidak bisa membayangkan apa itu akan seperti memiliki orangtua nyata, apalagi yang Anda cintai... Betapa berbedanya akan hidup saya ternyata jika aku punya layak orangtua? Di mana saya bisa? Yang akan menjadi?Tidak ada cara untuk mengetahui. Tapi aku bisa tegas mengatakan saya tidak akan berbohong di sini dengan Declan sekarang, dan untuk sekali, saya pikir saya senang hidup telah menuntun saya di sini, untuk saat yang tepat ini. Aku melacak mawar dan melirik ke arahnya. "Apa Apakah dia seperti?"Napas meninggalkan Dia pada napas panjang. Ia berguling ke punggungnya, tetapi tidak sebelum aku melihat banyak alis nya. "Setia untuk suatu kesalahan. Dia adalah orang yang terpanas dan paling baik yang pernah kutemui. Mencintai ayahku lebih daripada dia pantas. "Dia terjebak oleh dia melalui segala sesuatu-setiap DUI, libur hancur, setiap kali ia berjudi pembayaran hipotek mereka. Aku akan mendapatkan begitu marah kepadanya untuk tinggal bersama dia setiap kali dia kacau. Maksudku, aku hanya sedikit anak, tapi aku tahu dia pantas lebih baik daripada dirinya. Aku tahu dia bisa meninggalkan Dia jika dia ingin. Tapi dia tidak. "Dia hanya akan memberitahu saya ketika Anda menikah dengan seseorang, Anda mengambil yang buruk dengan baik. Mengatakan dia tidak selalu seperti itu, bahwa ia sedang sakit dan ia membutuhkan bantuan kami untuk mendapatkan kembali ke baik." Tenses rahang nya. "Dan kemudian suatu hari ia hanya pergi. Setelah semua yang dia lakukan untuknya, segala sesuatu yang dia menempatkan Rahel, ia hanya berjalan menjauh dari mereka seperti itu tidak ada."Saya belajar wajahnya sebagai dia tampak di langit-langit, tapi dia tidak benar-benar melihatnya. Dia terlalu sibuk menghidupkan kembali sesuatu yang buruk dari masa lalu. "Apakah Anda melihat dia sejak itu?" Kata-kata tenang ketika mereka meninggalkan saya. Aku tidak ingin mengganggu pada apa pun yang terjadi di dalam kepalanya, tapi aku penasaran. Plus, saya pikir kita telah didirikan oleh sekarang bahwa pertanyaan adalah permainan yang adil.Jika ia dapat meminta saya jika aku turun dari terakhir kali aku telah berhubungan seks, saya pikir saya bisa meminta dia jika dia melihat ayahnya.Declan getar kepalanya. "Blake memiliki, tetapi saya menolak untuk. Sejauh yang saya prihatin, ia meninggal kedua ia berjalan keluar pintu itu."Rahang beliau yang tumbuh lebih ketat semakin lama dia berbicara dan aku 'm menyesali pernah membawa ibunya untuk mulai dengan. Saya tidak bermaksud menempatkan peredam pada percakapan.Since we’re in a sharing kind of mood, I do something I’ve never done before: talk about my father. There’s really nothing to tell, but maybe it’ll get his mind off his parents to talk about someone else’s.I roll onto my stomach and say, “I’ve never met my dad. Don’t even know his name.”He looks over at me and pets my hair. “Do you remember your mom at all?”“I have little snippets of memories, but not many. I can’t even remember what she looked like, really, just that her eyes were supposed to be blue.”“Supposed to be?”Shit.My mouth snaps shut at my slip-up. ‘Her eyes were blue.’ Were blue. How friggin’ hard is it to say that?I push away the last memory I have of her, fuzzy from my four-year-old mind, but haunting nonetheless. I didn’t tell Declan this, but I’m the one who found her after she overdosed on our couch. Her open eyes had turned gray and filmy, and she wouldn’t wake up, no matter how much I tugged on her and yelled. I finally went upstairs, to Mrs. Donaghy’s apartment, and asked her make me some cereal. It wasn’t the first time I’d turned to her when my mother was . . . indisposed, but it was the last.I look away from Declan’s inquiring eyes, to his arm wrapped around my head. “Yeah, I think. I don’t really remember.” My fingers run up his forearm, then over the hard bulge of his bicep. “I love your tattoos,” I say, peeking underneath the sleeve of his t-shirt to get a better look.He sits up and begins tugging his shirt over his head. I’m momentarily relieved that my distraction tactic worked, until his shirt lifts enough to reveal dark, discolored patches dotting his side. A few litter his chest. One big, oblong bruise covers his stomach.My breath tangles in my throat as my heart literally stops. They look so much worse than the other night. What was once red, angry splotches have now turned into inky, black pools. There are so many of them.Declan sinks back onto the pillows leaning against the headboard. I can tell he’s trying not to wince. A burning sensation settles into my eyes and I belatedly realize I’m trying not to cry. I swallow down the jumbled mess of emotions tearing through me and sit up. Maybe that will help me breathe, because for some reason, I can’t.“I could kill whoever did this to you,” I say, running the lightest touch over a bruise on his side. His abs tense and I look up at his face, seeing his eyes clamped shut.I jerk my hand back and grimace. I hadn’t meant to hurt him. “Sorry.” His eyes shoot open as he stills my hand. “Please, don’t stop. I love it when you touch me.”That was a look of pleasure on his face?He places my palm on his chest, right over his heart. I feel its steady thumping right under my fingers, under hard muscle and warm skin. I gnaw on my lip as my own heart skips a beat, then starts back up at a slightly faster clip. I think the damn thing’s trying to synchronize itself with Declan. “You sure I’m not hurting you?”
“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.” It’s obvious there’s a double meaning to his statement when he’s looking at me like that—like he just freaking won the lottery. It makes me wonder if he has an undiagnosed concussion or something. . .
After a beat, he removes his hand from mine and folds his arm behind his head, letting me know he’s mine to do with as I please. And right now, what I please is to see that look on his face again. The one that’s strung so tight in pleasure it almost looks painful.
My fingers carefully trail down the expanse of his torso. Every hard ridge I pass has my stomach somersaulting. It’s a beautiful sight to see him stretched out before me, bruises or not.
He’s perfect.
Scooting down the bed, I rest my hands on the mattress and lean down, placing soft kisses on the bruises lining his side. The ends of my hair brush against him as I go, but I don’t move it out of the way. Knowing how he feels about my hair, he probably loves this.
A quick glance up at him confirms it. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and his free hand fists the sheet on the other side of him. 
I smile against him and press my lips to his skin, noticing the way his abs tighten with every kiss. Not wanting to neglect them, I kiss my way down his stomach, and that’s when I see it. 
The look.
It’s even better than the first time I saw it. I watch his face while I kiss the dips and curves of his muscles, then boldly flick my tongue out in an open-mouthed kiss.
Declan’s reaction doesn’t disappoint. His lips part as his breath catches, and I know I’m in real trouble now. 
Because that just officially became my favorite sound in the whole world, and now I’m anxious to see what kinds of variations I can make him come up with.
Sitting up, I wait until his eyes open in a daze to say, “So did you ever finish, um, jackin’ your beanstalk that night?”
“No.” He puffs out a breath and scrubs his hands over his face, not even bothering to hide that he’s rock hard. “Call me crazy, but the mood was kind of ruined.”
My fingers skim the waistband of his pajama pants, then barely dip inside. “I could give you a hand, if you want.”
“Seriously?”
The look on his face right now would be funny if I wasn’t so turned on. “It’s only fair after you . . . you know, helped me out the other night.” I dip my fingers lower, grazing hair before he grabs my wrist and pulls me back.
Why does he look so pissed? I thought he’d want this.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Declan says as he sits up. “That’s not how this is gonna work. I don’t want you to do this because you feel like you owe me one. I want you to do this because you want to.”
I do want to. I want nothing more in the world right this second, but I’m not ready to admit just how bad I want it. So instead I yank my hand out of his grasp and say, “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t.”
His mouth breaks into a smile. “So you want to?”
God. I roll my eyes at his increasingly cocky grin. “Yes.” 
“Hmm. . .” He squints, like he’s really trying to figure out if he believes me. “I’m afraid I’m gonna need more convincing. Say, ‘Declan, I want to touch your cock.’”
Yeah, he’s perfect all right. A perfect ass.
My chin juts out as I stare at him. “I’m not saying that.”
He chuckles and leans down, kissing the spot on my shoulder where my shirt’s slipped down. “C’mon. I just need to make sure your heart’s in it. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
Bullshit. He just wants to hear me say it. I roll my eyes again and sigh. It’s too bad my desire to touch him and find out what he looks like when he comes apart from my doing far outweighs my reluctance to say those seven little words. So I mumble, “Declan, I want to touch your cock.”
He jerks back and holds up his hands, looking at me like I’m insane. “Slow down there, Kitten, this is our first date. I’m not gonna let you touch my cock on our first date. I’m not that kind of guy.”
If you look up “aghast” in the dictionary, I’m sure it’d have a picture of my face right now. “After all that and you tell me no?” I shriek. “Are you shitting me right now?”
“Maybe if you’re good I’ll let you touch it tomorrow.” Declan laughs and tries to fend off my hits as I swing at him.
“I hate you!”