Chapter 20
Colton
“He has us. And so do you.” The words should sound simple.
But they don’t, not to me. Because no one has ever said something like that to me before and meant it.
I search Ronan’s face automatically, looking for hesitation, for pity, for some sign that he doesn’t fully believe what he’s saying.
I don’t find any. His stare is too steady.
Something tightens in my chest so hard it almost hurts.
I don’t know what to do with the feeling that moves through me, warm and terrifying all at once. Because I have never had this before.
Never had someone look at me like I belong to them in a way that feels safe instead of dangerous.
Never has someone offered to stand beside me instead of asking what they can take.
The feelings inside me are too tangled to sort through.
All I can do is nod, because I can’t fully process what those words mean. Not yet.
“Come on, we’re going home,” Ronan says when we finish eating.
“But I haven’t finished the last report,” I protest.
“It will be there in the morning,” Ronan says, grabs my bag, and hands it to me.
I want to argue with him, tell him we need to figure this out now, that we need to make it make sense.
But I’m exhausted in a way sleep won’t fix.
Not physically. Emotionally. Deep in my bones.
Thinking your parents are monsters is one thing.
Seeing proof is another. The contracts. The signatures.
My father’s name scrawled across the page in black ink like it means nothing.
The images keep looping in my head, over and over, and I can’t make them stop. Every what-if piles on top of the next until I can barely think around them. I feel trapped inside my own head, like the walls are closing in. Ronan is right. It will still be here tomorrow.
We drive back to his penthouse in silence.
It should feel awkward, but somehow it doesn’t.
Not completely. The quiet stretches between us, equal parts comforting and unbearable.
Ronan drives with both hands on the wheel, focused and steady.
He doesn’t fidget. Doesn’t fill the silence just to fill it.
He just drives, calm and certain, like he can carry all of this without it crushing him. I keep stealing glances at him.
There’s something about the confidence in the way he moves, the way he exists, that settles me more than words could.
Like if he’s here, if he’s still solid beside me, maybe I won’t come apart completely.
But the silence gives my thoughts too much room.
And every mile home lets the storm inside me grow louder.
As we enter the foyer, my phone dings. I pull up the text and am greeted by a smiling Ollie sitting in a high chair. A short, heavy-set man with a beaming smile stands to the side. The tray on the high chair is smeared with food.
“That’s Franklin,” Ronan says from over my shoulder. “Mom’s chef.”
“Ollie looks happy,” I comment. He truly does in the photo. Even through the mess of food on his face, his dimples are on full display. He’s safe. That one picture shows me he is safe and happy. It loosens something in my gut, a knot that I didn’t realize was there.
“Why don’t you look happy?”
“I don’t know. Everything today is hitting me hard.
I keep thinking about my parents and what that means for Ollie and me.
Will I be able to give him a life? I mean, not just a life but a happy one.
” I try to explain myself to Ronan, but my thoughts are a jumbled mess in my own head.
So trying to verbalize them is next to impossible.
Ronan cocks his head to the side. It’s a movement that’s become endearing.
I know that’s his tell when he is trying to process what he is seeing.
He must figure something out because he takes my hand, not tightly or forcefully, just a firm pressure on my skin.
I follow, letting him take the lead wherever he wants. We enter his bathroom.
Ronan still isn’t saying anything; he just starts to undress me, and I let him.
I focus on his hands, on the way he unbuttons my shirt.
Then he folds it and places it in the hamper.
He drops to one knee, then, raising my left foot, he removes my shoe and sock.
He repeats the process on the other foot.
Soon, I’m standing before him naked. Standing, he turns on the shower and adjusts the water temperature.
Then he undresses himself. He’s not hurried; each move he makes is deliberate.
I haven’t seen him fully naked before. Each article of clothing he removes reveals more of his body.
I’m captivated by the sight. Each muscle ripples with his movements. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.
Once he is fully undressed, he takes my hand and pulls me into the walk-in shower.
It’s huge and could easily fit four people.
He directs me under the spray of warm water, sliding over me, loosening my muscles.
Still, he remains silent. He pours the shampoo into his palm and, tilting my head back, he washes it, massaging my scalp.
I close my eyes, getting lost in the feeling.
He washes my body with the same care. His large hands are moving me where he wants me.
I concentrate on just his hands, just on him.
In this moment, I give him full control.
I don’t have to think about what to do. I’m not in charge, and I fall into it gladly.
For the first time since Ollie was born, I’m not the one responsible for everything.
As my mind clears and focuses on him, my body starts to react to his touch.
My cock is painfully hard. I glance down and see he is affected as well.
Ronan dries me, then himself. He speaks for the first time.
“Say stop, and I’ll stop, understand?”
I nod. I don’t want him to stop. I want to take everything he is giving me.
He’s in control. He leans in and kisses me.
I melt into him. None of the hesitancy I’ve felt every other time is there.
I should be nervous. I’m not. I kiss him back as a calm I have never felt pulses through me.
His hands slide down my back and cup me behind my thighs.
Effortlessly, he lifts me, and I have to wrap my legs around his waist. He never breaks the kiss as he walks with me to the bed.
Gently lowering me onto the bed, he follows me down, his body pressing down on me.
When his cock rubs against mine, I have to close my eyes. Sensations that I have only read about are filling me. I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, and I want to fall. Ronan will catch me when I do.
He lifts away from me, and a whimper leaves me.
I tighten my hold around him to pull him back to me.
He reaches for something on the nightstand.
I hear the snick of a cap being opened. When he pulls away this time, I let him go.
He settles between my spread legs. Anticipation rushes through me as he pours the clear liquid on his fingers.
He leans back over me, placing kisses on my chest. He starts with my right nipple, nipping and tugging.
My focus is on the sensation of his mouth on me, and I’m startled when his fingers circle my hole.
No one has ever touched me there before.
I moan when he breaches me with one finger.
A second finger is added as he kisses down my stomach to my belly button. Dipping his tongue in once, twice. My body arches of its own accord. My breathing is ragged. He licks my cock from root to tip, licking the precum that is dripping from it.
I’m lost in every touch, every caress, every lick and nip he gives me.
His fingers are fucking in and out of me, but then he changes angles.
An electrical current shoots through me.
He hits the spot over and over again. The hot, wet feeling of his mouth when he swallows me down is my undoing.
On a continuous moan, I say his name as I cum.