Well, maybe not just his wits, I thought as he pulled off his shirt, baring the ridiculously chiseled chest and stepladder of a stomach that was entirely too Greek-god-like to be fair.
Then the mask dropped, and with it, he dropped to the edge of the bed with a huff, balling his shirt in hands. “Guilty. But, fuck, I’m tired. You can’t blame me for not being on point.”
I took a seat next to him and tentatively rubbed his shoulder. His skin was warm, dappled with a few freckles over his deltoids. Despite the fact that he’d kept my hand firmly in his all night,suddenly I felt shy at the contact. He was so big next to me. So immediate.
“You don’t need to be on point with me,” I told him honestly. “In fact, I kind of prefer it when you’re not.”
Once again, those eyes met mine, this time with a sharpness that shook. “Is that so?”
I nodded. “I promise.”
His hand came up to cup my cheek, and he watched me for a long moment while his thumb brushed over my cheekbone. Then, slowly, he bent down and set his lips on mine.
It felt good. Too good. But while I’d have been lying if I said I wanted him to stop, something also had me pulling away.
He pulled back with a confused expression. “What’s wrong?”
“I—nothing. I just wasn’t expecting that.”
He wasn’t buying it. “You weren’t expecting me to kiss you? Ari, I’ve been wanting to drag you out of that arena all night. It’s Friday. If I’m going to reach my weekly quota of orgasms by tomorrow, I need to get to work.”
I couldn’t help but smile. But when he bent to kiss me again, this time I pushed him away with a hand on his chest. “Ronan, stop.”
This time, he sat up fully, looking confused. “What is it? Be honest.”
It was hard to explain. But something about the combination of the contract, the party, his family’s intensity, and the realization that Ronan’s personality and Ronan’s mask were possibly one and the same had me a bit rattled.
Did you marry my son for money or for love?
How many people were going to wonder that exact question over and over again?
How could I claim the latter, or anything close to it, when I wasn’t sure I knew him at all?
“It’s just been a long night,” I said quietly as I stood.
He remained still, watching me with that sharp, dark-eyed gaze as I unzipped one of my suitcases and pulled out a pair of pajamas. I’d unpack in the morning. Right now, I needed sleep.
“I know we’re supposed to share a bed,” I said, waving at the yacht-sized mattress. “It’s in the contract. I get that?—”
“Fuck the contract.” Ronan’s voice was solemn. “Ari, what do you really need?”
Something about that name made me still and turn to face him. “I need some space. Just for tonight. I need to process everything. The party, your family, what exactly we’re doing here. So for tonight—just for tonight, I promise—do you think I could have a room to myself?”
Ronan’s brow furrowed, and his hands gripped the bedspread hard enough to turn his knuckles white. He looked like he wanted to argue with me. Or maybe he was just stopping himself from pulling me back to him. I didn’t know why I wanted him to, but I also knew it was for the best that we didn’t.
“Please,” I added, just for good measure.
A magic word, indeed. His shoulders deflated, and he gave a nod. “Of course, yeah. Sure. You stay here, and I’ll take the guestroom.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t do that?—”
“It’s fine,” he cut in as he got up. “My wife doesn’t sleep anywhere but in my bed. Understood?”
I should have said no. Should have told him we weren’t there yet, that maybe he should easy up on the whole “my wife” talk until we had a better sense of exactly what we were together.
But I couldn’t. I found I didn’t want to at all.
“Okay,” I said. “I—thank you for understanding.”
