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But I’ve been a fool before. And I’d be even more of a fool to pass up the opportunity, to not play the hand I have in hopes of winning the whole pot. I’d risk it all for her.
Her legs tremble around my head, her breathing growing labored and desperate, and I know that when she lets out a squealing, “Yes, Daddy,” it’s not an accident. It’s her way of claiming me. Marking what’s hers. Making it clearly known who I belong to, a message to the single person within earshot. And although it’s a little excessive, it makes me pretty fucking proud. I would have done nothing less for her.
And that gives me more hope than anything else.
RULE #23: ALL DREAMS COME TO AN END—SOME MORE ABRUPTLY THAN OTHERS
Daisy
Stepping foot back in Ronan’s apartment feels like coming home from one vacation and immediately starting another. Somewhere in the parking garage below the building is a white van in desperate need of a cleaning, packed to the brim with belongings I don’t ever want to see again. Everything I need is in this raggedy old backpack.
I’m staring out the large window, overlooking the city, when I feel a pair of arms wrap around me from behind.
“Are you okay?” he whispers in my ear.
I nod. I’m better than okay, really. I’m in this luxurious apartment with a man who is crazy about me and a journal full of songs I’ve written. Life is good.
So why do I feel unsettled? As if my feet have touched down, but I haven’t fully landed.
“I’m fine,” I reply, wincing as I flex my neck from side to side. “Just a little tired.” I slept plenty on the plane, but I can’t shake thisrun-downfeeling that’s starting to creep up on me.
“Why don’t you go lie down for a little while?” he suggests.
“We’re going to the club tonight, right?” I reply eagerly.
“No. We’re taking the night off, Daisy. Now, go rest.”
“What if I don’t want to?” I say with a coy smile.
“Then I’ll put you over my knee.” He growls in my ear.
“Promises, promises.”
“Go, baby,” he says, this time with a tone of sincerity.
“Okay, okay, I’m going.” Reluctantly, I pull myself away from his warm embrace and walk toward the bedroom—hisbedroom.
I feel pathetic for not having a room of my own. Or ahomeof my own. Does he think I’m pathetic? If he’s not sick of having to take care of me now, when will he be?
Trying to shove the thoughts away, I shut the door behind me as I stumble toward his bed. Sitting on the edge, I realize a moment too late that my sudden onslaught of weakness and overall raggedness is due to the fact that while I slept on the plane—and enjoyed two orgasms—I didn’t eat anything except for a buttery chocolate croissant before we took off. I was so caught up with the conversation we were having and his expert fingers, I didn’t even think about it.
To be honest, I’m actually a little relieved. I’d rather it be my cursed low blood sugar than something more serious. So, instead of lying down, I stand from the bed and start toward the door.
“Ronan,” I call, ready to explain—and that’s when it hits me.
I stood up too fast. Ears ringing, vision tunneling, head spinning, I go down fast.
Trying my best to break my fall, I reach for the dresser, but only manage to knock nearly everything on it down to the floor in a deafening shatter. It all feels so far away to me as the room diminishes to a tiny circle, until I’m completely swallowed in darkness.
* * *
When I peel my eyes open again, there are voices around me. I’m still on the floor of Ronan’s bedroom, my head burning from where I must have landed against the rug. My vision is blurry, as if my eyes are filled with water. But I can hear a familiar, frantic voice.
“I don’t know. I just found her on the floor. She passed out.”
Ronan.God, he sounds terrified.
“Is she all right?”
