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He shifted us again, then again after that, folding me into every position, over me, under me, beside me. I let him take charge, too lost in a cloud of lust and insanity.
I couldn’t guess how long it went on. My world had contracted to Ronan’s hands and mouth. The sweaty sheets. His hard, unyielding body. This man, this bed, this night. Him, him, him.
We were side by side again, his fingers working in and out of me, lips tangling lazily, more breathing each other in than kissing. My high was wearing off, and my body was shutting down. Blackness crept in at the edges of my vision, but that didn’t stop me from coming on Ronan’s hand another time. He held me through it, shushing me and whispering what a good girl I was.
I melted into Ronan like wax, plastering my limp body to his. His lips brushed back and forth across my forehead, soothing me.
“You’re okay,meala.I have you. You can go now. You’re safe. I’m here.” The vibrations from his voice went straight into my head, caressing my mind into a trance. I believed him, that he was here, that he’d take care of me. I trusted him.
“I’m okay,” I whispered. “Don’t let go.”
His arms tightened. “I won’t.”
I woke up alone and aching everywhere. My muscles were so sore, it felt like I’d run a marathon. Raising my arms over my head, I stretched, but that only seemed to make it worse. I needed coffee and a soak in my bathtub, order not important.
There was a cool bottle of water on the nightstand beside me. Forcing myself into a sitting position, I swallowed half of it down before taking a breath.
The T-shirt Ronan had given me was in a pile on the floor. I slipped it on, then rummaged in his dresser and found a pair of basketball shorts. They went past my knees and I had to cinch them tight around the waist, but I wasn’t about to make my walk of shame without pants on.
Cooking sounds were coming from the kitchen, and my stomach rumbled. Despite my hunger, I really wasn’t ready to face Ronan yet. I went into the bathroom and scrubbed my face. There was a brand-new toothbrush on the counter, so I ripped it open and cleaned the fuzz out of my mouth. My hair was hopeless, so I left it wild.
Instead of opening the door and heading for the kitchen, I sat down on the closed toilet and held my head in my hands. When I told Ronan I’d remember what happened last night, I hadn’t been lying. Some of it was lost in a fog, but for the most part, I could close my eyes and bring back every detail. His scruff on my thighs. Warm lips covering my clit. His tongue in my mouth. My wild, insatiable cries for more. The hours and hours we spent rolling around his bed in every position. Ronan making me come again and again until I finally passed out.
If I thought I could sneak out of this apartment without getting caught, I would have. I didn’t know how to feel about what went on between us. Part of me leaned toward being embarrassed, but from what I remembered, Ronan had been as into it as I was—and he didn’t even get off. So maybe I wasn’t embarrassed, but I was all topsy-turvy, unclear on which way was up and which was down.
My head jerked up at the light tapping on the door. “Come out, Iris. No more hiding. I have food for you.”
“Why do you think I’m hiding?”
“There hasn’t been any movement for ten solid minutes. Come on.” The doorknob jiggled, but I’d locked it so it didn’t open.
“Why are you listening to me in the bathroom?”
Something clunked against the door. Something solid and large. Probably his head. “Iris…” he groused.
With a sigh, I got up and cracked the door, peering at Ronan through the narrow opening. I half expected him to already be in a suit, but he wore a T-shirt and sweatpants. His hair was perfectly in place, though. “What did you make?”
Chuckling under his breath, he pushed the door open and yanked me out by my hand. “Come see.”
Fingers twined like old lovers, he walked me to the kitchen where two steaming plates heaped with bacon and eggs sat waiting on the bar for us. I could have fallen face first into the food, I was so hungry, but thankfully, I’d gotten control of myself since last night.
Ronan helped me up onto the high stool. His hand slid over my ass, and I swore I felt him squeeze, but his face remained impassive, so I might have imagined it.
I tucked in right away, stacking scrambled eggs on my toast and shoving it into my mouth. Ronan watched me as he ate in a much more civilized manner, but he never once admonished me or told me to slow down.
When I’d eaten half of my food, he asked, “How do you feel this morning?”
I swallowed some orange juice and wiped my mouth with my napkin. “I’m okay. Sore and achy and I could sleep for another day, but it’s not as bad as my worst hangover.” I tilted my head toward him. “Have you ever taken E?”
“I haven’t. Never been interested.” He brushed my hair away from my face, then smoothed his palm down the wild tangle in the back.
“Matt didn’t need to tattle on me last night, and I didn’t need rescuing.” Maybe I felt a little judged, but it was also true. Roddy didn’t come and whisk Hope away because he trusted her to keep herself safe. “God, I need to call my friends. I can’t believe I left them.”
Ronan took a phone from his pocket and pushed it toward me. My phone. “I texted them both last night and again this morning. Matt saw them home safe and sound.”
“You used my phone?” I snatched it off the counter and checked my messages. Sure enough, there were several I hadn’t typed. My indignation eased slightly when I saw Ronan had identified himself in the texts to let them know he was messaging on my behalf. But only slightly, since I definitely hadn’t given him permission to use my phone. “Do you know any boundaries?”
“I used your phone to message your friends. I didn’t look at anything else.” He was so unbothered by my pissiness, I wanted to throw eggs at him and ruffle his goddamn hair.
