Ireland (Crossroads #1)

Chapter 11

Ireland turned in a slow circle. The former Vidal offices, now emptied of furniture, looked like a dystopian wasteland. The ever-present music that had once enlivened the air had been silenced. The space seemed cavernous, the open windows creating a whistling breeze that echoed throughout. Cords dangled from the walls and lay like snakes on the carpeted floor, having no equipment to connect to. Torn bits and pieces of paper were scattered on the floor, along with one of her business cards— Ireland Vidal, Chief Executive Officer his view repeatedly interrupted as Jules paced back and forth in front of him. Not that he was actually watching the disaster movie playing on the large flatscreen on the wall. He had enough disasters of his own to deal with.

“ Merde , Jules! Either sit or find a woman to burn off that energy.”

Jules glared at him as he marched past. “How can you be so calm? That woman strung us along for months!”

Setting his elbow on the armrest, Ronan propped his head in his hand and yawned. “Elizabeth Vidal was never a sure thing.”

He was tired. He’d spent an hour in the hotel gym, half the time running full bore on the treadmill and the other half on the weight machines, hoping to wear himself out enough to finally sleep. But until he was certain Ireland wasn’t going to do something incredibly hardheaded, such as go back into the offices, he was keeping his eyes open. He’d asked the lobby guard at Vidal Records to notify him if she came in but had walked over around nine to check for himself—just in case.

“I don’t like being played!” Jules’s volume was nearing a yell.

“It was always a gamble,” Claudette agreed, her legs tucked at the other end of the sofa. “Which would she choose: to screw over her ex-husband or protect the careers of her children? Perhaps we thought she’d choose revenge because our parents never put us first.”

Jules snorted and paused to point his finger at her. “None of that talk. Let’s focus on getting this wrapped up before something else goes wrong. We’ll start liquidating tomorrow.”

“Not yet,” Ronan said.

“ Pardon? ”

“A few extra days won’t hurt us. It’ll get done.”

Jules stared at him with a hard expression. “You’re holding off for her.”

Ronan stared at the television. “If you’re referring to Ireland Vidal, then?—”

“Who else? Mon dieu , you piss me off!”

“Ireland is going through the finances now. It won’t be long before she understands the hopelessness of the situation.”

“And then what?” Jules threw up his hands. “She’ll forgive you and spread her legs again? Is that the new plan?”

“Don’t be ugly, Jules,” Claudette scolded.

“ Désolé but we’ve spent years working toward this moment, and now that we’re finally here, he won’t act. He’s paralyzed by lust and can’t see straight.”

“Will you shut up about that already?!” Ronan barked. “I’m sick of hearing you complain about Ireland.”

“ Beau-frère , I haven’t begun to complain.” Jules’s tone took on a dangerous edge. “This is no longer just about you. I went to goddamned law school to further this goal. Claudette became a fucking accountant!”

“And I will be forever grateful to you both. I couldn’t have gotten here without you, and I never forget it. I never will.”

Jules’s wide, sensual mouth compressed into an obstinate line. “We committed our lives to getting you this revenge, and I won’t let you jeopardize everything because you’re thinking with your dick!”

“That’s enough!” Ronan slashed his hand through the air. “You came along for the ride because you get off on tearing things down. We’re finally at the part you enjoy, and you’ll have your kill. We can give Ireland a little time to reach her own conclusions, that’s all.”

“She and her brother were always going to be collateral damage,” Jules argued. “That was never a problem for you before you met her.”

“What do you want me to say? That I like her? That I regret having to hurt her? Both are true. She can’t stop what’s coming. Give her time to make peace with it.”

“But why? What does it matter? We could be home with the Vidals buried and left behind us. If they hate us afterward, it means nothing.” Jules’s gaze narrowed with incisive consideration. “Or are you hoping for more time with the daughter of the man you’re destroying?”

“It is rather romantic, isn’t it?” Claudette smiled. “Like the Montagues and Capulets.”

“Oh, please. Ronan can’t lose Scarlett over a woman he has no possible future with. Ireland Vidal is not leaving this place, and our dear brother gets the frissons here! And that’s the least of their problems.”

Ronan’s phone lit up where it lay on the coffee table, and Ireland’s photo filled the screen. Scrambling for it, he answered. “ Oui, cher .”

“You’re the reason I can’t sleep,” she accused in that voice he loved. Assertive yet smooth, with the softest of rasps, it was as sexy as the rest of her. “You’ve given me carte blanche with your body. It damn well better make my insomnia worthwhile.”

He was on his feet and moving. “I’m on my way. Give the doorman my name.”

“Which one?” she asked caustically.

“Whichever you prefer. See you soon.” He hung up and shoved the phone into his back pocket.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jules yelled. “She calls, and you go running? We’re in the middle of a conversation!”

Ronan went to his room, shoved a string of condoms into his front pocket, and slid his feet into loafers. Then he headed toward the exit. “Don’t wait up.”

“ Pour l’amour de dieu! ” Jules called after him gripping his head in both hands. “ C’est fou, gros bête! ”

The door swung slowly closed, and Jules stared at it in utter amazement. He turned to his sister. “Can you believe this? I don’t recognize him.”

Claudette eyed the door thoughtfully. “Perhaps a night with her will do him good. Their liaison on Monday was too short to satisfy the envie he has. He’s too noble sometimes, and that little chivalrous streak won’t allow him to admit he’s using the woman for revenge.”

“Do you really think so?” Jules dropped gracelessly onto the sofa beside her.

“He’s like you, Jules. Women are a pleasant diversion. What makes this one so special? She’s a Vidal.”

He slouched, petulant. “We’re so close to having what he’s long wanted. He could finally put this all behind him and try to be content for once. He deserves peace more than anyone.”

She draped her arm across his shoulders and gave him a comforting hug. “Imagine if Scarlett was to hear of this somehow? Ireland Vidal is photographed on the street all the time. If Ronan is with her…”

His handsome features hardened. “I won’t let her ruin everything. If I have to, I’ll do what our brother can’t.”

Studying Jules, Claudette noted the obstinate line of his clenched jaw. He was the impetuous one among them. Bold, brash, and unafraid of consequences. Mostly, they used those traits to their advantage. They knew to be wary when Jules got that look in his eye.

“Don’t get any stupid ideas, Jules,” she admonished. “Ronan has never failed us. He won’t start now.”

Ireland turned her phone off after receiving the doorman’s heads-up that Ronan was on his way to the elevator. How many times had she reconsidered her decision to invite him over? At least a hundred. She’d had his contact card open on her phone screen since they’d hung up, but she couldn’t seem to hit the button to make the call.

It had been easier to avoid him the night before when she’d been rushed to get things finalized. Now, she was awake and frustrated by fatigue, but thoughts whirled ceaselessly in her mind. Mixed in with the mental chaos were taunting, tempting memories of Ronan. It felt like the worst betrayal that the man targeting her father—for a reason neither of them seemed willing to tell her—was the same man whose presence made her feel alive in new and compelling ways. She was being selfish, indulging herself with him, her defenses weakened by her self-doubt and the soul-deep weariness that felt like a smothering weight.

Perversely, she wasn’t too tired to be excited. Her breathing was quick, her pulse quicker. He still turned her on, still lured her with a heady attraction. It infuriated her that the yearning was so insistent, which gave an edge to her desire. The near-feral sex they’d had should have been enough to satisfy her for a while, but she only wanted him more now.

Opening her front door, Ireland tried posing herself on the threshold in a way that would drive Ronan wild. She rested her forearm against the jamb above her head and adjusted the white silk of her kimono to bare her leg. Then she fluffed her hair and widened her neckline. She bared one shoulder, then covered it again. Then she tried leaning her back against the frame and bending her leg to brace herself.

But when the elevator’s soft chime signaled its arrival, she found herself paralyzed, lamely standing in the doorway.

The car doors slid open, and Ronan appeared, his breathtaking face wearing the hard, hungry look of a man whose base needs were driving him to the edge. Their gazes locked and communicated so much in the mere blink of an eye—wariness, anticipation, desire, and the sensual joy of seeing someone whose presence was a wild thrill.

While she was frozen with indecision, Ronan was determined, and he ate up the distance between them with his long-legged stride. He caught her up in a crushing embrace, lifting her feet from the floor. His mouth sealed over hers in a greedy, demanding kiss.

Wrapping her legs around his waist, Ireland held on, kissing him back with the same voracious need. His groan echoed in the small vestibule, the sound so searingly erotic a shiver swept through her.

Everything rushed by them as he carried her into the condo and kicked the door shut behind him. All the lights were off, the sole illumination coming from the moon shining through her large, uncovered windows.

He took her straight to the bedroom and lowered her to the bed, toeing off his shoes before stretching out beside her. Their legs twined, his well-worn jeans soft against her bare legs. It was all so fast, mere seconds from his arrival to falling into bed together. There was no time to think or second-guess. His lips moved across her cheek, and then he buried his face in the crook of her neck. He breathed her in with a long, slow inhale and nuzzled deep.

Then he stopped moving at all.

After a few moments, Ireland lay confused. “Ronan?”

“A moment, cher ,” he murmured. “Just to hold you.”

Slowly, she felt his big body relax. His hard planes and valleys settled against her slight curves as the fine tension drained from his long frame.

It took her a bit more time to loosen up, her mind arguing that she shouldn’t draw any comfort from the man who tormented her. But she couldn’t stop the easing of her tight muscles. It was an involuntary reaction to the feeling of being… enough . With Ronan, she didn’t feel like she needed to be more, do more, give more. She wished she knew what he drew from her in return.

Ronan Boudreaux was either her dream man or a nightmare, and she was drained by the effort of figuring out which was true. In the end, it didn’t really matter. He would always be the enemy of her family. She had him now, and if she did her job right and fought off his takeover attempt, that was all she would ever have.

And why was she even thinking of anything beyond the next hour or so?

Her fingers slid into his hair to hold him to her as she burrowed into his embrace and followed his lead, allowing his opulently seductive scent to permeate her senses and soothe her agitated nerves. It felt so good to be held after the upheaval of the past days, and she permitted herself to enjoy it. She’d thought she wanted hard, grinding sex and knew he could—and would—give it to her. But this moment of reconnection before such wild intimacy had been needed, too. He’d apparently known that, but she was just now catching on.

Ronan’s warmth, their companionable silence, and the steady thrum of sexual affinity between them served as a balm for her raw emotions. He was a highly sexual creature, one who radiated such hot male animal energy, and yet he was content for the time being just to be close to her, one thick biceps pillowing her head and his hand curved possessively around her butt cheek.

Her fingers traced the sharp objects that formed his tribal tattoo, then she ruffled the rough silk of his hair. She closed her eyes, but sleep was far from her mind. Ronan was too exciting, even when he was doing nothing.

Eventually, he pulled back and looked down at her. He searched her expression with a thorough once-over.

Had he held himself back so she could come to grips with her choice to invite him over?

“No regrets,” she whispered, able to confirm that because of his actions—or inaction, as the case might be. He could’ve used her body in countless ways since they’d met if that had been his aim.

“ C’est bon.” His bright smile and gleaming eyes were radiant in the moonlight slanting across her bed. “ Bonsoir , cher .”

His casual attire made him look younger than his age. Lying in bed together, dressed as they were, felt almost adolescent, as if a boyfriend had snuck into her room on a school night. She’d never had that experience. Her family was intimidating, and their former Dutchess County mansion hadn’t been the kind of residence that lent itself to secretive trysts. In so many ways, Ronan delighted her, her mysterious magic man.

“Hi back.” She gently twirled a thick strand of his hair around her fingers. The darkness was more than a shield… it separated them from who they were during the day.

“I’m glad you called.”

Her smile was rueful. “I won’t lie; I kicked myself for doing it. But it’s not so bad now.”

“Not so bad?” His grin gave her butterflies. “I’ll have to work on that.”

“Why don’t you start here?” She grabbed the end of her kimono tie and pulled it loose.

Heat flared in his gaze. Lowering his head, he pressed his lips to hers, his tongue licking along the seam. She reached for his waist, but he abruptly rolled away.

“Hey!” she protested.

“I’m taking my clothes off this time.” He moved with impatience, standing and reaching behind him for the neck of his T-shirt to yank it up and over his head. Every muscle in his back and arms flexed with the aggressive movement, giving her a delicious eyeful of how beautifully powerful he was. She briefly saw the scars again, some thin and silvered, others puckered and pink. One looked like a nasty knife wound that had been sutured without finesse.

She wanted to ask him about them but held back. Too much intimacy would not be good for her when it came to him. Better to keep in mind that his past and future weren’t hers to know and never would be.

Still, she was reminded of how dangerous he was despite always feeling so protected by him. She saw the same hypervigilance in Gideon’s security detail, the kind of awareness that came from living with threats and fighting for survival. How her mild-mannered father could do anything to incite the fury of a man like Ronan was impossible to grasp; her mind just couldn’t do it. Maybe it was all a terrible mistake.

Tossing his shirt onto her clothes chair, already piled high with her garments, Ronan faced her. “And I won’t hurry, either. If you misbehave and rush me like last time, I’ll tie you to the bed.”

“Really? I’d like that.” And she knew she would, emboldened by him, despite never having trusted anyone to restrain her. He was the cause of all the upheaval in her life, and yet, in moments alone with him, there was an ease between them, a sense of safety.

“Then we’ll add it to the list.” His teeth flashed white in the dimly lit room as he pulled a string of condoms out of his front pocket and tossed it on the nightstand. He pulled his phone out of his back pocket, turned it off, and set it down.

“What list?” she asked, her voice made husky by the quantity of condoms he’d brought with him. If he kept to his previous ratio of three orgasms for her to one condom for him, she was in for a wild night. Her blood heated, and her breathing quickened.

“The one with all the things I want to do to your enchanting body, cher. ”

Rolling to her side, she propped her head in her hand to watch the show.

He shoved his jeans and boxer briefs to the floor in one swift, forceful movement. Then he straightened and stepped out of the puddled denim and cotton, shamelessly erect.

And why wouldn’t he flaunt himself? She’d never seen a more perfect male body. Ronan could even, maybe, put a bit of weight on; his ripped physique was all golden skin and taut muscle without an ounce of extraneous flesh. He was like a rogue lion in need of a mate to look after him.

And his cock… Her mouth watered. It was hard and thick, curving upward to nearly touch his navel.

Her thighs tightened against the empty ache between them. “Enchanting. I haven’t heard that one before.”

“Enchanted. Bewitched. Possibly cursed. Whatever it’s called, I couldn’t get to you fast enough. Jules thinks I’ve lost my mind.”

He returned to the bed and pulled her effortlessly into the middle. She barely caught a warning glimpse of the feral gleam in his smoky eyes, and then he lowered his head and took her mouth in a slanting, tempestuous kiss. His shift from cautiously playful to ravenously lustful was instant and unmistakable, and it set her on fire. She could taste his need; it deepened the lush intoxication of his seductive flavor.

His hand slid into her kimono and cupped her breast with proprietary aggressiveness. The shock of his warmth against her cool skin made her breath catch.

“I love the sounds you make when I touch you,” he said hoarsely.

“I love when you touch me.”

His agile fingers finished untying her kimono sash, and then he parted the silk as if he were unwrapping an expensive gift. The icy illumination of the moon detailed every curve and hollow of his muscular body. The flexing of his biceps was brilliantly defined by light and shadow as he plumped her breast with gentle kneading. She grew heavy and taut within his grasp, her body blooming under the fierce heat of his lust.

“How is it possible that you’re more beautiful every time I see you?” he murmured, more to himself than to her.

Lowering his head, Ronan blew a cool stream of air across her nipple, making it pucker. He smiled with purely male conquest before bathing it in a long, savoring lick.

She moaned as his mouth wrapped around her, drenched the taut peak in wet heat. His cheeks hollowed as he suckled delicately, the lazy drawing pulls radiating through her body and echoing in her womb.

He licked across her cleavage to her other nipple, lavishing it with the same unhurried, focused attention. His hair hung around his face as his working mouth sucked rhythmically, his low groan vibrating through her.

She began to writhe against him, her hands stroking over every inch of him that she could reach. It felt almost desperate, the need she had to memorize how he felt beneath her questing fingertips. Her ferociously carnal desire heightened all of her senses, making every contact sizzle with near-unbearable pleasure. “Ronan…”

Lifting his head, he adored her body with gleaming eyes and tender hands. “ Dieu, but you’re delicious.”

He whispered something in French as his fingertips stroked a featherlight line of fire between her breasts to her belly. Then lower to gently comb through the triangular patch of trimmed hair above her denuded labia. “I’ve lain in bed, stroking my dick, imagining tonguing your pussy until I’m drunk on you. That I haven’t had my mouth on your cunt every day since we met has been driving me insane.”

His gruffly voiced words swept like warm water through her, heating her from the inside out. When he parted her and stroked a finger across her slit, she arched off the bed with a hiss of shocked delight. Holding her gaze, he slid his finger into his mouth, his jaw working as he sucked her flavor from his skin. His sensual hum made her so hot she pushed up onto her elbows and shrugged out of the white silk.

“Sweeter than pralines,” he murmured, his tongue gliding along the seam of his lips as he savored the taste of her.

He moved to straddle her, his powerful thighs settling on either side of her hips. Pulling her close, he kissed her passionately, his chest hot and lightly furred against her tight, tender nipples. She wrapped her hands around the fiery steel of his upthrust penis, her head tilted back in supplication as he fucked her mouth with lushly erotic thrusts of his silky tongue. She whimpered as her body began to tremble with unappeased need, her fists working in tandem to slide up and down the impressive length and girth of his cock.

Ronan growled into her mouth as he swelled within her grip. A thick wash of precum leaked from the wide head, and she massaged it in with her thumb, using the lubrication to quicken her pace.

“Stop,” he ordered hoarsely, “I’m too close already.”

She slid her thumb into her mouth, tasting him as he’d tasted her. The rich and darkly compelling flavor exploded across her tastebuds, sending a wave of tingles across her skin. She moaned, and his gaze heated further, his features tightening with ferocious desire. Her pussy grew slick with a surge of arousal.

“Let me suck you off,” she whispered.

“ Non . It’s my turn to taste now.”

“We can share a turn.”

His thumb stroked the plump curve of her lower lip. “When I take your mouth, I’ll be selfish with it. Right now, I want you wet, cher . I want you slick and hot when I fuck your pussy with my tongue.”

Goosebumps raced over her skin, and he noticed, his slow smile promising dizzying delight. With his arm curved around her for support, he urged her onto her back with a filthy kiss. His hand slid between her legs. His knowledgeable fingers parted the plump lips of her pussy and stroked teasingly over the slitted entrance. The touch was like fire, sizzling across her nerve endings. She gasped into his mouth, and he nipped her lip with his teeth, a tiny tell that revealed the edge of his control.

Massaging her slit with two fingertips, Ronan spread the slickness of her desire up to her clit and rubbed, taking her to the very edge of orgasm. When her body tightened in anticipation, his touch moved lower, and he thrust inside her. She arched off the bed with a sharp cry, the feeling of fullness what she needed and yet not nearly enough.

His other hand slid beneath her head and supported her with his big palm, holding her steady as his fingers began to fuck her fast and hard, thrusting into her pussy in rhythm with his tongue strokes into her mouth. She grew slicker, hotter until she was audibly wet as he pumped his fingers into her, curling the tips so they rubbed over and over the sweet spot inside her. The orgasm was sharp and unbelievably intense, her channel clenching and releasing in ecstatic ripples. His growl of triumph made her shiver, the room darkening around them as her vision narrowed.

Then he was sliding away, his body losing all contact with hers. Ireland made a weak sound of protest, her senses overloaded, and then his broad shoulders were widening the spread of her thighs. She had an instant to register the feel of his hair brushing across her sensitized skin, and then his hot mouth was flowing over her clit, his tongue fluttering with maddening speed.

“Oh, god, Ronan.” It was too soon; she was too sensitive.

The sound he made was practically a snarl, his mouth eating her with ravenous greed. Her hands fisted into the comforter, her hips lifting into the heat of his lushly carnal licks. He shoved his hands beneath her, cupping her butt in both hands as his head tilted and his tongue speared into her slick opening. She tensed, every muscle screaming as the wicked pleasure of his mouth drove her to the edge of madness. His tongue plunged in and out of her pussy, his throat working as he swallowed. He drank from her as if he’d been starved for the taste of her, elevating her hips to his mouth so that he could shove his tongue as deep as possible.

Ireland thrashed under the relentless pleasure, her thighs splayed wide as he tongued her with taut focus. Her next orgasm hovered tantalizingly within reach, and she whimpered, desperate for a release from the shattering ecstasy of his ravenous mouth. He moved one hand to massage her pulsing clitoris, and she tightened around his thrusting tongue, her pussy convulsing, trying to pull him deeper. She screamed his name when the climax broke, flooding her senses with fierce, addictive pleasure.

And he didn’t stop, his lips forming a tight circle around her slit as he sucked her slick juices. Then he moved to her clit, lashing at it until she tried to push away weakly. Her low, soft moan as she came again made him growl with unmistakable exultation.

Dazed and spent, she offered no resistance when he pulled away and flipped her onto her belly, his tongue licking the sweat from the curve of her spine. He stretched away from her, and she heard a condom tear away from the others. Her pussy was throbbing in time with her racing pulse, wet and swollen from the avid attentions of his voracious mouth. When he gripped the back of her thigh to bend her knee and open her again, she jolted, so sensitized even his quiet shushing to calm her was too loud.

Ronan spooned behind her, fitting his larger body to hers. He took himself in hand, notching the broad head of his cock into her drenched slit. Gripping her waist with a steely forearm, she felt the coiling of his strength, and then he thrust deep, shoving the rigidly thick length of his penis in her to the wide root. The sound he made was one of pure animalistic indulgence, a guttural groan that almost made her come again.

Packed full of incredibly stiff cock, she moaned and squirmed against him, plastered to his torso by his weight and the grip he had on her hip. He linked their left hands together, stretching their arms above her head.

“ Mon dieu ,” he gasped, his hips hunching against her bottom as if he couldn’t stop himself from moving. “Your cunt is like heaven. Shoving my cock into you is all I can think about.”

“Please…” It was all she could say, the stretching of her sensitive channel so sublime her thoughts spun incoherently. The heavy tip of his penis rubbed deliciously inside her, stroking with tantalizing pressure.

“Yes,” he hissed, blanketing her back in the fiery heat of his sweat-slick chest as he began to rut furiously into her with all the power of his thickly muscled body.

Ronan took her like an animal, holding her captive beneath him as he fucked her ruthlessly, his heavy scrotum slapping against her clit in a frenzied cadence. Her orgasm seized her, her body no longer her own. It spread through her in waves, surging higher as he rode her clenching pussy with urgently deep thrusts, grunting every time he hilted inside her. She milked him hard in climax, her sheath tightening and releasing until she thought she’d die from the pleasure of it.

His teeth caught the muscle between her shoulder and neck, like a lion mating, and the feel of that soft bite was like an erotic wildfire in her body. She came again, burying her face into her pillow to silence her frantic cries, and this time, he came with her, pounding his impossibly hard penis into her melting, trembling core. His groan of release vibrated against her skin, drawing out into a sound of desperate need.

It was base and primal, unmistakably possessive, and she loved it in a way she’d never suspected she could or would.

Gasping, Ronan kissed the spot where he’d gripped her with his teeth. Then he rolled to his back, breathing hard, his sudden withdrawal leaving her empty.

“Come here,” he husked, coaxing and pulling her over to drape his body.

His heart pounded beneath her ear as she struggled to breathe with her cheek against his chest. Her entire body felt full of electricity, her skin carrying a charge that made the tiny hairs stand at attention. The smell of Ronan’s hardworking body was intoxicating, so delicious she pressed her nose against him.

His hands stroked up and down her back, his eyes closed as his body began to recover from its strenuous exertion.

Her stomach growled.

One of his eyes opened and focused on her. “Don’t tell me the last thing you ate was lunch.”

“Okay,” she murmured sleepily, her limbs growing heavy.

“Oh no, cher .” He shook her gently. “No sleep until we get some food in you.”

She yawned. “I’m too tired to eat.”

“This won’t be the only time I ride you hard tonight.” He rolled with her cradled in his arms and looked down at her with his hair a wild tangle around his stunningly gorgeous face. “You need the calories.”

“I need sleep. You need calories.”

He paused in the act of getting out of bed, twisting back toward her from his seat on the edge. “ Pardon? ”

“You’re too lean,” she told him, curling onto her side. “I think you’re leaner now than when I met you. You’re not eating enough.”

He studied her with a slight smile, reaching over to run his hand through her hair. “You sound like Marcelle.”

“Hmm.”

He gave her a playful swat on the butt and stood, laughing at her grumbled protest as he pulled off the condom, wrapped it in a tissue from the box on her nightstand, and tossed it in the wastebasket by her vanity. “Get up, tigress. I’m certain there’s something in the kitchen I can whip together.”

“I doubt it.”

“Messy and can’t cook.” He bent and kissed her. “My dream girl. Allons .”

Moaning in protest, Ireland dragged herself to the edge of the bed and sat up.

“You make that sound again, cher , and you’ll get your wish to be flat on your back in that bed.”

She could tell he wasn’t making an empty threat because his cock had visually expressed its interest. She started to moan to get her way…

He put his hand over her mouth, laughing. “If you won’t behave for you, do it for me. I’ll need the energy to keep up with your insatiable demands.”

Nodding her acquiescence, she grinned when his hand fell away. Then she stood and swayed on her feet, her legs weak.

Ronan caught her and gave her a measured look. “Is that from lack of food, or was I too hard on you?”

“You were perfect.” She pushed onto her tiptoes to kiss his jaw, relying on his support. “You could even go harder if that’s what drives you wild. I love it when you lose control.”

“ You drive me wild.” He reached for her kimono on the bed and handed it to her, then grabbed his jeans and pulled them on, only partially fastening them. Slung low on his hips, the softly draped denim revealed twin dimples just above the curve of his magnificent ass and the most outrageously defined abs she’d ever seen. The way those hard muscles arrowed down to his hefty penis made her want him all over again.

Taking her by the hand, he led her to the kitchen.

In short order, Ireland had another glass of orange juice in front of her, and Ronan was flipping an omelet with caramelized onion and sharp cheddar cheese.

“Do you like cooking?” she asked from her seat at the island, taking the opportunity to memorize every scar on his back. There were at least a dozen by her count and three that looked traumatic.

“I don’t mind it. When I go to the bayou, I fend for myself. At home, I have Marcelle, and she fusses over me as you just did. She makes sure I eat regularly and often.”

“Have you not been eating enough in New York? We’re kinda known as one of the great cities for foodies.”

He shrugged, sliding the omelet onto a plate and setting it before her. “I lose track of everything when I’m working. A lot of moving pieces to stay on top of. It wasn’t easy to get… here.”

From the way he picked his words, she understood that he meant it hadn’t been easy maneuvering her father to the brink of insolvency.

My involvement with Vidal was years in the making by the time we met…

“A big strapping guy like you forgetting to eat?” she teased, agreeing that it was best to avoid discussing why they shouldn’t be together like this.

He cut off another pat from the stick of butter and dropped it into the pan. “I’ve been told that food restriction is common among those who grew up not knowing when their next meal would be.”

She paused in the act of chewing, startled then anguished. Despite everything, she cared for Ronan. It hurt to imagine him so young and vulnerable. “I didn’t know that,” she admitted faintly.

Pouring the last of the scrambled eggs into the melted butter, he faced her to put the bowl in the sink. He gripped the edge and held her gaze, dazzling her with the utterly masculine beauty of his body. “I can eat with you, though. I’ve found that being with you makes some things easier for me.”

Ireland’s face went slack, shocked by his revelation and how it tightened her chest.

His mouth curved wryly, and he returned to cooking as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on her.

She drank her juice, her throat so tight it hurt to swallow. It took so long to pull herself into a semblance of calm that Ronan was digging heartily into his finished omelet before she could continue talking.

“So, when this is all behind you, will you slow down and work less? Maybe take better care of yourself. Have you killed your great white whale?”

The lusciously sensual curves of his lips compressed into a thoughtful line. “I haven’t really thought of what would happen after.”

“Isn’t that the goal of revenge? To get on the other side of it and live the life you envisioned for yourself once the scales were evened?”

His nostrils flared on a deep inhalation. “I never looked that far ahead.”

“I guess it’s time you did,” she said quietly, forking another bite into her mouth.

Ronan nodded and resumed eating.

His subsequent thoughts took him far from her, just as life soon would.