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Prologue
Hot Shot wasn’t overly crowded yet but it was only eleven-thirty. The girls from my Adolescent Development class convinced me this was a good idea. Let’s face facts, I was not much of a partier at any time of the year. I didn’t really like the taste of alcohol but right now, they had me nursing a beer that wasn’t too awful.
Most of the people I knew had gone somewhere for Spring Break. Aruba. Panama City. Cozumel. Cancun. Wherever the latest hot spot was for college students to go on Spring Break they went. Not me, I stayed in good, old Ohio. I didn’t even know where that hot spot might be. Mom and Dad would have sent if I wanted to go. I was graduating after all but it didn’t make sense to spend that kind of money to run around on beaches for a week in a bikini where the sole purpose of life was to drink too much. Have guys I didn’t know or like grope me when I could do that here, in downtown Cincinnati.
I hated the club scene. Hot Shot was one of the hottest clubs in the downtown area. It had great views on one side with an open balcony that you could walk out onto all year round although in winter it was a bit chilly with the frigid winds blowing off the Ohio River. On the other side of the club, you also have balconies that overlook the bright lights of the city with the bridges for scenery.
My girls were on the dance floor right now shaking their, well shaking their everything while I was tired and wanting to go home. Bright, colorful lights in vivid hues were swirling over their heads while the music beat a hard tune in my head giving me the start of a headache. I heard raucous laughter and thought I recognized one of the voices. I turned slightly glancing over my shoulder. It was Ronan Moore, just as I thought.
Six foot two of solid male perfection. I had known Ronan my whole life. We lived in the same small town of Pointe Royal, Ohio. We both went to the University of Cincinnati. He was studying law while I am an education major. We were both almost done. After spring break, we had about two more months of school. Several times a week, I received phone calls from him asking me to meet him on campus for lunch dates. I’ll admit it I have a mad crush on this man.
Who wouldn’t? He’s charming. Caring and sweet with me, at least. He always has been. Just a smile from him makes my heart do flip flops in my chest. The man has hands. Big, broad hands. He was a wide receiver for our high school football team. Nearly, black hair that is thick and falls into his beautiful pale, green eyes. Perfect hair that he runs his fingers through and it just falls into place. The kind of hair that makes a girl jealous.
Eyes that are so gorgeous against his golden skin. A smile that makes you want to say, yes Ronan, I will take you home with me. How quickly do you want to leave? I have seen many women offer themselves to him. Many, he has turned down. Many he has not, only to break their heart the next morning when he kicks them to the curb. I didn’t say he was a saint.
I sighed. Wow, he is beautiful. Like off the pages of a magazine, male-model beautiful and I don’t think he flaunts it. He just knows it. He’s confident and yes, he’s cocky and full of himself. Charming, I said that already. And yes he is a shit at times but I still love him.
He is smart as hell too. He’s set to graduate from law school in the top five percent of his class. As I watch him more intently, I recognize that he is wasted tonight or getting there. He sways a bit on his feet. Yep, Ronan is having a good time tonight.
His back is cut with muscles from football and working on his grandfather’s farm. His jeans are snug across his muscular ass. He has one of those asses. A firm perfectly shaped butt that you can grasp in your hands and hold onto.
I am wearing a flowing, lightweight material top that is sleeveless so I shouldn’t be warm but I am. His snug, cotton shirt outlines every inch of his torso. I knew I could go over and say hello. He would hug me and I could be close to that body. He would hold me against his firm, muscular frame but that is as far as it would ever go. I am no more to him than a baby sister.
Another sigh escapes me. I watch him a little longer. There are no girls surrounding him and his friends tonight.
What the hell. I am going over.
I slid off the bar stool where I was sitting, bored as hell and lonely. I maneuvered between tables until I was standing right behind him. He was nearly a foot taller than me so his friends had to lean around him to see me. All the Moore boys were tall like all the O’Halloran sisters were short. I am Skylar O’Halloran. The second to the youngest of the O’Halloran sisters. My two older sisters married Ronan’s brothers Ciaran and Fionn.
“Well who is this beauty?” one of his friends said noticing me standing behind Ronan.
He turned and looked down at me. His eyes lit up at the sight of me. He said my name with such a slow, sexy quality that I almost sighed out loud. Then he wrapped his arm around me. He was holding a beer in his other hand. Not his first, nope definitely not. His eyes were glazed but still beautiful.
“How are you Skybug?” He whispered near my ear. His breath warm against my neck. His fingers were pressed firmly into the skin just above my ass. I could smell beer on his breath but also his soap. Clean and damn, did he smell wonderful.
I wrapped my arm around his lean waist. “I’m good Ro,” I replied. He had me tucked hard against his side. Nothing sensual. Just firmly, like he was protecting me. He was looking down on me.
“You look amazing tonight,” he practically growled at me. His eyes were traveling up and down my frame.
I wasn’t even dressed like my girls. They were decked out in short skirts and sparkling tops. Some low cut. Four-inch-high heels showing off their long, slender legs. I was short even with high heels I didn’t have long legs. I had worn the high heels though with my skinny jeans that were practically plastered to my thin frame. I wore a flowy, gauzy top that was colorful and low cut with no sleeves. Tonight, Ronan was noticing me. His eyes were devouring me.
“Wanna share that with us Ronan?” one of his friends asked. I thought his name was Stokes. He was a nice looking guy too but every time I
saw him he was vulgar to me. I didn’t like that about him. A tall, blonde dude with a fake tan and pale, blue eyes. Always smirking and nasty. Just not my type.
“Not in this life Stokes,” he snapped without taking his eyes from my face. “Skylar is special.” He gave me a squeeze. His voice was deep and soft as he continued to talk about me. “I love this girl. You don’t touch her. Skylar’s from my hometown, Pointe Royal.”
“Man, she’s a fine piece of ass. Too fine for you,” he teased Ronan. He was trying to rile Ronan. I could see the gleam in Stokes’ eye. Ronan was not taking the bate.
I glanced up at Ronan’s face but he wasn’t looking at me now. He was glaring at Stokes. Then he guided me away from his friends. He sat on a barstool and put his beer on the table. Then he guided me between his legs with his hands, those big, glorious hands that I loved were resting on my hips; casually caressing me through my jeans. I heard more vulgarities come from Stokes but I chose to ignore them. Ronan glared at his friend over his shoulder.
I took my finger and touched his chin, covered in a fair amount of whiskers that contributed to his roguish charm. “Don’t worry about him,” I told him gently.
“What are you doing out tonight?” He asked. He knew I rarely went out.
“The girls in my Adolescent Development class convinced me to go out with them.” I looked over my shoulder showing him where they were dancing on the floor.
He chuckled. “And my Skybug doesn’t like to dance.”
