While he typed in my number, I looked at the ring still on my left hand. It really was beautiful. A thin, delicate piece engraved with a twisting Greek key. It looked so natural there that the idea of removing it physically hurt.
All the more reason to get it over with.
“Here.” Hurriedly, I started to twist it off but was stopped when Ronan’s hand closed over mine.
“Stop. That belongs to you.”
“What? No, I can’t?—”
“It has your name in it.” His voice dared me to contradict him. “Take a look.”
I blinked, then allowed him to remove the ring for me. I watched as he held it so the light caught on the inside, revealing a delicate inscription on the inside of the band.
To my Ariadne.
Oh, my heart.
I watched as he replaced the ring on my finger, wondering at the sudden urge to burst into tears.
“Okay,” I whispered.
Ronan seemed reluctant to release me. “One more thing.”
“What?” I was almost afraid to ask.
He pulled me close enough so that our chests touched. “You let me kiss you goodbye.”
I swallowed. It was a dangerous request. One that could easily lead to more, and though the manipulation I’d seen before was nowhere to be found on those chiseled features, I couldn’t trust that it wasn’t there, lurking under the surface. Ronan Black was smooth. Too smooth.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t enough to dissuade me. Because, I realized, I wanted one thing—onefullyconsciousmemory of this strangely intense connection—to take with me when I returned to my life of steady obligation. One sweet souvenir to go with this beautiful ring. Just for me.
And so I nodded. “Okay.”
Relief flickered across his features as he released my phone. Once I’d stowed it, he took my hand and yanked me into his arms.
Warmth and electricity sizzled through his touch like butter meeting a hot pan, and I melted into his touch. The scents of hotel soap and coffee and man enveloped me along with that solid fit as one hand slid up my back and the other cradled my head under his chin. Despite the difference in our sizes, we’d been molded to each other’s shapes.
We just… fit.
I closed my eyes, breathing him in as he buried his mouth in my hair. After this, I’d never see him again. I’d go back to Seattle and my failing business and my grief. He’d return to Boston and his family and whatever problems billionaire playboys had.
This moment—this strange, impossible connection—would be over.
I felt him tighten his grip even as he released my head so he could tilt up my chin.
“Ronan—”
His name was barely a breath before his mouth descended on mine.
It wasn’t like the kisses at the club. There was patience in this kiss along with the intensity I remembered. He took his time with it, using his tongue and lips to write an ode to the night we’d never remember, to the future we’d never share. My hands slid up his neck and into his curls, memorizing their silky mess, tugging him closer as I moaned.
He pulled away too soon, and I panted, fighting the urge to tug him back.
We stared at each other. His eyes were dark and intense. My heart was racing again, and he seemed to know it.
“All right?” he murmured.
I pressed a hand to my chest, and he tracked it there until it fell away. “I’m all right.”
