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And entered her in a single thrust — hard and true.

There was nothing gentle in the way he touched her, nothing tentative. It was all need. Pent-up, dangerous, and impossible to ignore. She met it with her own, nails biting into his shoulders, breath coming in ragged bursts.

Every kiss, every grip, every push and pull was a clash, a contest neither of them wanted to win, nor concede. In that fierce, consuming moment, the past loosened its hold, leaving only the fire between them, burning hotter with every move.

And afterward, they lay sprawled across the tangled sheets, the air between them thick with the scent of sweat and sex, breaths coming in uneven pulls.

Felicity stared at the ceiling, every nerve still humming, her heartbeat refusing to slow. The room felt too small, too hot, and yet the chill of reality was already creeping in.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

Ronan ran a hand over his face, eyes shuttered, jaw tight. He looked like a man already bracing for the fallout.

Swallowing hard, she said, “Well … that was definitely a bad idea.”

He gave a low, humorless laugh, not looking at her. “Told ya.”

Silence stretched between them — heavy, messy, full of things neither of them were ready to say.

“I’ll be on my way then.” She crunched upright, swinging her legs off the bed.

His hand closed around her arm, firm but not rough. “Stay.”

She froze. The word was an anathema. She never stayed. Staying meant letting someone in, giving them pieces they could use to hurt her later.

“Please,” he whispered.

She looked back over her shoulder.

And instantly regretted it.

The pleading in his gaze slid past every wall she’d built, sinking straight into the locked, dust-covered room inside her chest where tenderness had been shoved away.

She told herself she didn’t owe him a thing; she was a wham-bam, thank-you-sir kind of woman. Seconds — worse, sleepovers — were never on the menu. They only led to cracks in the armor, and cracks let in light. And light had a cruel way of illuminating the hope that had withered and died decades ago.

Tonight’s blunder was already an all-round bad decision, a heat-of-the-moment mistake.

But the warmth of his hand on her arm, the quiet in his voice, the raw edge in his eyes … they whispered to something she didn’t want to hear.

Or feel.

Her breath hitched.

Staying … was a risk.

He needs you, a little voice whispered.

She should’ve pulled free, should’ve put distance between them. But his hand was warm around her arm, and that broken desperation in his eyes anchored her in place.

With a slow exhale, she let herself sink back onto the bed beside him.

Her voice was barely a whisper. “Biggest mistake of my life.”

Ronan’s lips curved, not in triumph but in something closer to relief. “Guess we’ll make it together, then.”

And she knew, even as she lay back against the pillows, that she’d just crossed a line of no return.

His hand slid down her forearm, light, yet deliberate, before linking with her fingers.