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“If you want it, I don’t doubt you’ll have it.”
“So, your apartment is ready for you to move back in. I have work to do this afternoon, so I thought I’d take you there this morning. If you’re ready to move back, of course. You might feel safer here or prefer living with Adam.”
“Can I shower first? I need to wake up.”
“Please do. You smell like the floor of a pub.” He sounded so dry, I pictured a field of withered clovers.
“I spilled some beer in my hair last night.” I threw a pillow at him. “Have you ever had fun, Ronan? Do you live in that suit? Is it grafted to your skin?”
He chuckled softly. “When we met, I wasn’t wearing a suit.”
“You didn’t answer about having fun.”
“Go take a shower, Iris.”
“I will, when you tell me the last time you had fun. Like silly, inconsequential fun. And it can’t have anything to do with going to the haberdashery to pick out a tweed for your winter suit.”
I swore I saw his shoulders shaking in the shadows, but if hewaslaughing, he did it silently.
“One, I do not wear tweed. I’m not my granddad. And two, I’m thirty-five years old. I’ve had all manners of fun in my life.”
“Thirty-five? Wow, I thought you were older.” Actually, I hadn’t. I was surprised to find he was a decade my senior. Ronan was aging like a fine fucking wine, that was for damn sure. “You didn’t tell me when you last had fun.”
He leaned forward again, peering at me from his shadows. “True. I didn’t.” He rose to his feet, crossing the room to the door. “I’ll wait in the kitchen for you. Try not to take too long.”
I flopped back and pulled the covers up to my chin. “What if I fall back to sleep like Ireallywant to?”
He lifted a shoulder, glancing back at me from beneath a heavily furrowed brow. “I’ll have to punish you.” With that, he strode from my room, leaving me slightly breathless and more than a little slick between my thighs.
I threw another pillow at the empty doorway, but it didn’t take away any of my frustration. An ice-cold shower would have to do.
Damp hair thrown into a ponytail, tank top, stretchy skinny jeans, and unlaced combat boots on my feet, I felt almost human. Ronan leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, scrolling through his phone.
“Hey, can you help?”
He glanced up, trailing his eyes from my breasts to my face, settling his gaze on my forehead. “What do you need?”
I held out a small tin. “Joaquin whipped up a balm for me to use. I can’t reach the whole thing. Adam did it for me yesterday, but he’s still in la-la-land. Would you?”
He hesitated, then he laid his phone down and took the tin. I turned away from him, tucking my ponytail over my shoulder and out of the way.
Ronan was silent as he dabbed the balm on my healing tattoo. He had to tug my tank top down to get to all of it, and I barely suppressed a shudder when his knuckles pressed into my spine and then grazed a little lower. My teeth dug into my bottom lip, and I concentrated on breathing normally. I’d already made a big enough fool of myself in front of this man. The last thing either of us needed was for me to become obviously aroused while he did me an innocent favor.
“Done.” He wrapped his fingers around my ponytail, lifting it off my shoulder and bringing it behind my back again. “It looks good. Healing nicely.”
My lips curved and one eyebrow arched as I peered back at him. “Not a colossal mistake?”
The shake of his head was barely perceptible. This morning’s Ronan was even more closed off than usual. He had no idea that his lack of reaction to me was like catnip. It made me want to pounce on him, bat him around with my paws, play with him until he had no choice but to react.
“There’s coffee and breakfast in the car, if you’re hungry,” he said.
“Magic words.” With Daisy in tow and my bags slung over Ronan’s shoulders, we made our way down to the car. Daisy insisted on sitting with Ronan in the front, which made me laugh, but he didn’t try to fight her. Not even in his suit, which had to have cost a pretty penny.
On the back seat was a paper bag, and a steaming to-go cup waited in a cup holder. I snatched the bag first, and unwrapped a bacon, egg, and cheese bagel dripping with butter. My stomach growled, and I took a big bite, closing my eyes as the salty, buttery flavor hit my tongue.
“Thank you,” I said around my food. “You’re my hero.”
“You’re welcome.”
