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His breath hitched as her fingers laced with his. He bent his arm, bringing her hand to his mouth. “You’re welcome.” His lips brushed lightly over her knuckles, lingering a fraction longer than necessary.
Her chest tightened at the contact. The warmth of him, the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the way his thumb shifted against hers. She wanted those lips, those hands, to move all over her body. She wanted him with an urgency that surprised and scared her.
Soon, he would see her differently. She was certain of it.
But before that happened…
“Can you stay longer?” The words came out in an urgent rush.
Something deeper settled in his gaze. His hand didn’t let go — instead, his grip tightened just slightly, anchoring. “I can.”
“So, if I visit the bathroom quickly, you’ll still be here?”
Some needs were more pressing than others.
His mouth curved. “How about this — I make a quick dash first, get the ladies up and sorted, maybe put some coffee on, and then we continue … this.”
Felicity watched him for a second longer than necessary, aware of the lingering warmth where his hand had been, the imprint of him still wrapped around her.
Maybe … just for now, before she faced the shitstorm waiting outside Galina’s little house, she could pretend they were a normal couple.
Linger. Absorb everything good he had to offer, hold onto it a little longer.
Soon, it would be gone.
“Get to it, Marine. Before I change my mind.”
The grin — God, that grin — spread slow and easy across his face.
Ronan leaned in, brushing his lips against hers. Fleeting. Barely there.
And still … she felt it.
All the way down to her aching core.
She watched him walk out, her gaze following the easy confidence of his stride — the breadth of his shoulders, the quiet strength in the way he carried himself. That tight ass of his.
A smile curved her lips.
Hers. All hers.
She allowed herself to bask in that knowledge.
Just for a while, she reminded herself, her smile dimming.
The toilet flushed. Pipes gurgled, fell silent again.
A knock on the doorframe. He leaned in, catching her eye. “Bathroom’s all yours.”
She slipped across the bed, pausing where the sheets still held his warmth. His scent lingered, faint but unmistakable.
The back door opened. Dogs scrambled across the deck.
With a quiet reluctance, she pushed herself up and left the bed.
Reality slapped her upside the head when she caught her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was a tangled mess, a sleep crease cut across her cheek, shadowy smudges beneath her eyes, her skin dry and lacking any hint of glow.
She looked worn out. Used up.
