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Mac lets the insult slide off his back and looks down at me, “I think you might be the love of my life.”
Ummm what?
He gives me one big loud smooch before dropping me to my feet and speed walks toward the kitchen like he didn’t basically just tell me he loved me.
“Baby, you didn’t make dessert, did you?” Ronan asks with a mouthful of burger while Mac and Finn assemble theirs.
“Uhhh, no? Was I supposed to?”
“Nope. We’ve got it covered.” Ronan fistbumps Mac across the counter.
What is even happening right now?
36
Harper
After lunch, I spent almost the rest of the day in my room, popping out occasionally to get a glass of water or grab a quick dinner. The guys said they had some things to discuss and disappeared into Ronan’s office. I know something is going on, considering the fact that Ronan and Mac slipped out of the apartment so early this morning only to return hours later freshly showered and in a different change of clothes. I doubt that Mac was kidding when he said he had to wash off the blood of his enemies. I don’t know if it’s because I’m too afraid to ask or if I trust the fact that they’ll tell me what I need to know when they’re ready, or a little bit of both, but I didn’t question them, and left them to their own devices.
I’ve rarely gotten time to myself since they brought me here all those weeks ago, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss it. As much as I love spending time with them, or interacting with customers at the bookstore or making conversation I meet with people on the street, I find solace in myself. So, I spent the day taking a long bubble bath, painting my toes, and I’m currently curled up on the chaise that Mac, chapters deep in a new book.
As I turn the page, I snuggle deeper into my spot, pulling the blanket further off my body, and continue reading my book. This one is different from my usual choice. I ordered a few new ones online and had them delivered to the desk downstairs. Usually, I’m all about the happy ever afters—the typical story. A handsome, grumpy man reluctantly falls in love with the beautiful, bubbly girl next door. They get married, buy a house with a white picket fence, get a dog, and have 2.5 kids. You know the one. However, considering my current position in life, I thought I’d give something else a try.
Dark romance it is.
Currently, the morally grey male character, actually scratch that; I think he really might be a psychopath, is chasing his “chosen” through the woods to fulfill her fantasy. While it isn’t something I am necessarily interested in, I see the appeal. The idea of giving over every ounce of control to someone else. Of letting someone make your every dirty and forbidden wish come true. There’s something so freeing about wanting what others consider taboo and not giving a damn about their judgment. As long as it’s between two consenting adults, gets you weak in the knees, and makes your panties wet, who gives a fuck?!
Ha. Good one, Harp.
The more I read about him pinning her down and fucking her into the forest floor, the more I wiggle in my seat. There’s a knock at my door, and I snap my book closed. Ah, perfect timing.
Ronan pushes open my door, immediately spotting the book on my lap. “Wutcha reading?” He asks in a very un-Ronan sing-songy voice.
“A book…” I quirk my head at him, still standing in the doorway, meeting his trouble-making gaze head-on.
“Well, judging by the flush in your cheeks, I’d venture it’s safe to say you were just getting to a good part?”
“I think that would be a safe assumption. Perfect timing for you, don’t you think?” I slide my glasses up to the top of my head. I don’t know why he’s being so flirty, but I’m here for it.
“Actually,” he steps into my room, and to my surprise, Finn and Mac follow behind him, “we remembered something when we were sitting in my office.”
I cross my arms over my chest, “Oh yeah, and what was that?”
“We never had dessert earlier.” His tall frame is now towering over me, looking practically edible in a pair of suit pants and white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and the top two buttons undone.
“I told you I didn’t make anything for dessert.”
He bends over me, placing his hands on the back of the chaise, caging me in. His usual smell of whiskey and smoke warms my chest. “And I told you,” grabbing a fistful of my blanket, he rips it off my body, revealing my silk pajamas. It’s a lavender cami and short set, trimmed with white lace, and covers the absolute bare minimum, but it might be the softest thing I’ve ever put on my body. Mac got me five sets, each a different color. “We already know what we want.”
Between the greedy looks in his eyes and the fact that all three of them are in my room, I’m pretty sure I know exactly what he’s thinking. Yet, I remain firmly seated in my spot, not ready to cave. “Any of you care to explain to me what happened to you two while you were gone this morning?” I look between them, but it’s still Ronan who speaks.
“Later, baby.”
“Promise?” I ask. I don’t want them to hide things from me. If I’m in this with them and them with me that I want to be all in.
“We promise.” Mac and Finn nod their heads in agreement behind him. “Right now, the only thing I can think about is being between those delicious fucking legs of yours.”
Okay, my resolve is dwindling… rapidly. I uncross my arms as Ronan brazenly looks at my heaving chest, nipples hard under the silk of my top. “Oh, really?”
