The room was silent save for the crackle of the fire and the occasional relaxed sigh from Mole who was flaked out before it. The room’s other occupants were cuddled together on the floor, relaxing against the couch, watching the flames dance, leap, and throw sparks onto the hearth.

A deep, pleasured sigh escaped the dark-haired man but his slender companion didn’t move or look back. All she did to acknowledge it was tighten her grip on his hands.

“Happy?” she prompted, a loving warmth underlying the ordinarily formal tones of her voice.

“Extremely,” he affirmed, kissing the back of her head. “It’s great here, isn’t it? Quiet, peaceful . . . ”

“Private,” Miranda interjected, amused.

His hands left hers, wandering to places that sent delicious shivers down her spine. “Yeah, private . . .very private.”

“You’re insatiable, Declan,” she accused affectionately, snuggling back against his bare chest.

“Can you blame me?” he teased, lips ghosting along the shell of her ear. “You’re beautiful.”

A rosy hue tinged her ivory complexion and she shifted to fit her head beneath his chin, her slim arms wrapping loosely around his torso. The movement causing the quilt covering their lower bodies to twist. Both ignored it in favor of each other, Declan’s hands skimming up and down her bare back while she cuddled even closer.

“You are, y’know,” he insisted quietly.

“I’m what?”

“Beautiful.” When she didn’t respond, he rolled them over, pinning her beneath him. “You *are* beautiful. You, Miranda Figelstein, are the most beautiful, intense, *incredibly* sexy woman I’ve ever met. A woman who - I might add - I am completely, head over heels, madly passionately in love with.” His mouth descended onto hers. “Passionately . . . ” he repeated against her lips, his body settling onto hers enough that she couldn’t slip free from the kiss. Not that she was trying to.

When they came up for air, Declan grinned lopsidedly. “So *now* do you believe me?”

She looked at him blankly. “We were talking?” Slipping a hand into his hair, she drew him down to her once more.

----

It was some time later before he brought up the subject again. In fact, he chose to wait until he had her in the one place she was guaranteed to be completely relaxed and therefore . . . talkative.

Well, more than usual.

They were in the bathtub, soaking in the luxuriously warm water, surrounded by bubbles, the room lit by softly scented candles.

“Miranda . . . ” Sliding the large sponge along one of her arms, he broached the subject *very* carefully.

“Yes?” Leaning back against his shoulder, she closed her eyes in relaxation.

“Why is it that every time I try and tell you you’re beautiful, you shut me out?”

His words were tentative but they had an effect nonetheless. Her eyes flew open and she stared in shock at the wall. “I...I don’t shut you out,” she protested weakly.

“Yeah you do,” Declan insisted, the sponge migrating across her mid-section. “You never want to hear it. Always find some way to change the subject or distract me.” His fingers found her rib cage, tickling. “So, c’mon, out with it. Why?”

Miranda fidgeted, taking the sponge from him and tugging at it. “I don’t know . . . ” she confessed quietly, feeling his hands move to slide up and down her arms reassuringly. “I...My . . . ”

“Parents?” he encouraged gently.

She nodded quickly. “Never said things like that . . .” She inhaled quickly. “I’m just . . . no good at . . . ” Miranda shook her head. “I’ve never . . . ”

“Been able to accept compliments?”

“Yeah.”

Declan’s heart pained for her and he held her close, bubbles around them moving and popping with the movements. “You’ll learn,” he promised quietly. “Because by the time we’re old and grey, you’ll be tired of hearing it.” A kiss went to her temple. “You’re beautiful, Miranda . . . and that’s all there is to it.”

finis

 

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