Chapter 8 Thursday, December 22nd #2
I smile. He knows Thai food is my favorite. That and barbeque.
“The usual?” I ask, already selecting the small restaurant four blocks west from here, then quickly add our favorite dishes to the cart for delivery.
Ronan nods. “The usual. I’m going to start the shower,” he says with a smirk and a wink. My body is already heating in anticipation.
I hurriedly finish ordering the food. Delivery time is an estimated thirty minutes—plenty of time to have a little snack before dinner—then toss my phone onto Ronan’s bed.
I can already hear the water running in the shower.
I pull off my oversized knit sweater and drop it on the bed, heat blooming deep in my core.
T-minus too many seconds until I’m naked, wet, and pressed up against him.
But before I can get too excited, my gaze lands on his desk. His phone lights up, buzzing against the wood. And the name on the screen sends my pulse skittering.
Miranda.
Guess she really is back in his life. Suddenly, it feels significant again.
I take the phone, the vibrations traveling up my forearm as if tiny bugs are crawling beneath my skin, and walk into the bathroom.
Ronan is already half-undressed, shirtless—and perfect; always so perfect—his jeans unbuttoned and hanging loosely on his hips, giving me the perfect view of his beautiful chest, those abs, and that delicious V leading to his manhood.
I just learned in my biology class that there’s an actual term for the muscle group in his lower abs, the grooves that run diagonally from his hip bones to his…
groin. It’s the Adonis belt, and I’d say that’s a pretty damn perfect term.
I salivate every time I see it, my fingers itching with desire to trace it.
It’s enough to temporarily distract me from the phone buzzing excitedly in my hand.
That’s until Ronan turns to me with a smile and his eyes move to his phone.
I hold it out to him. “Your phone,” I say, even though it’s completely unnecessary.
“Who is it?” he asks, already reaching for it.
I don’t respond, watching instead as recognition flashes in his eyes and his lips tug into a small smile.
I don’t think his smile is as big as the one he gave me when he saw me walking into the bathroom five seconds ago.
Or is it? Does he seem excited? I find myself listening intently to the pitch of his voice as he holds the phone to his ear.
“Hey Randi! I take it you made it?” His lips curl into something soft.
Just hearing her name makes my heart twist.
Ronan moves around and past me. “Get under the shower. I’ll be right there,” he whispers to me, gives me a quick kiss against my temple, then leaves, closing the bathroom door behind him.
I stand for a moment, the muscles in my back tensing with the rigidity of my spine.
Ronan left me to speak with Miranda in private.
Does that mean he doesn’t want me to hear what they talk about?
God, what is wrong with you, Cat? Why are you so sensitive lately.
Stop being ridiculous. The water’s running.
He probably left to escape the background noise.
His smile wasn’t any wider than the one he gave you.
I strip off my clothes, then step into the tub and under the warm shower. My muscles relax immediately, my eyes closing with the warmth. I let my head fall back and allow the water to run over my head, drenching my hair. I run my hands through it slowly.
Ronan’s voice comes as a needy rasp. “You’re a ten on a normal day, a damn twelve naked, but fuck, naked and wet? There isn’t a scale high enough to measure how fucking perfect you are, baby.”
My eyes fly open just in time to see him step into the shower with me.
I didn’t hear him get back to the bathroom or undress himself, didn’t even hear him pull aside the shower curtain.
The look on his face tells me he means every word he just uttered.
Ronan steps in, the water catching the edges of his shoulders, but his attention is fully on me.
He reaches for my hips, tugging himself closer to me until my nipples brush against his chest. They harden immediately at the sensation running straight to my core.
My inner muscles clench as if searching for something to squeeze, searching for him.
He lowers his head and ghosts a kiss against my cheekbone, then my ear, then the spot right below on my neck. My eyes shut with his caress.
“Are you happy that you got to see Randi again?” I manage to moan as Ronan’s lips traverse the side of my neck, slowly but surely making their way toward my collarbone.
“Yeah, sure,” he groans against my skin, but he doesn’t stop kissing me, licking the water off me slowly.
I’m torn between my desire to lose myself in Ronan and seeking enough information about Miranda to still my insecure thoughts, at least partially. The latter wins. “You missed her, huh?”
Ronan doesn’t break the contact with my skin.
“Not as much as I missed you,” he growls, his breath hot against my skin.
Every inch he kisses feels claimed. When his mouth skims the swell of my breast, I arch toward him involuntarily, my nipples already aching, straining for his tongue.
A couple more inches and he’ll reach the stiff peaks.
I moan and move my hands to his hair, grasping his wet strands just as he reaches my areola and begins circling his tongue around the pebbled bud.
“Ran,” I whimper when he takes my nipple between his teeth, carefully nipping at my sensitive skin before drawing it deep into his warm mouth. “Did you sleep in the same bed with her?”
He retreats. The sudden loss of Ronan’s physical contact causes me to open my eyes. He stands, naked—and very hard—in front of me. His green eyes, though lidded and filled with want, also carry confusion as his brows dip. “Why are you asking me all of this, baby?”
Despite the warm water, a cold shiver runs through me. He’s right in front of me, but I miss him. This makes no sense at all. What am I doing?
I shrug. “Is this not a question I should be asking?” I truly have no intention of picking a fight, but something inside me is needling.
Maybe it’s Vada’s words about not having to be okay with everything Ronan does, or Tori’s suggestion to ruffle some feathers occasionally.
I don’t like any of this, hate the feeling of dread settling in the pit of my stomach. What if I push him away?
Ronan’s face sobers, the lust draining from his eyes as his gaze remains pinned on me. “You can ask me anything, baby. Anything, anytime,” he says, unwavering.
Relief lightens my shoulders. “Okay then.”
“The first night, yes, we shared a bed. Randi asked me to stay in her room with her because she was afraid the guy would come back. Her room only had one bed, so… The second night, in Nashville, I got us a room with two beds and we each slept in our own.”
The information definitely eases my mind.
“And even when we slept in the same bed, I was fully dressed and slept on top of the blanket while she slept underneath it.”
I’m immediately taken back to the morning I woke up on Shane’s couch after some guy slipped me a roofie.
Ronan lay next to me, fully dressed and sleeping on top of the blanket that was draped over me.
Ronan did for me then what he did for Miranda these last two days.
He was an amazing, supportive, protective friend.
He did what I’ve always loved him for, and I need to get a damn grip.
“Honestly, baby, I don’t want to talk about Randi. I want to talk about you and me, or better yet not talk at all”—he steps toward me again—“if that’s alright with you.” Always seeking my consent. Still moving at my pace.
I just nod, my skin heating with a delicious tingle at the sight of Ronan’s pupils widening as his eyes gloss once more. My “yes” served as the drug hitting his bloodstream. “I missed you, Cat. I hate being away from you, hate physical distance between us. It’s like I leave my heart behind.”
“Yeah?” I breathe.
“Uh-huh,” he groans. His body comes flush with mine, and I gasp with the swiftness with which Ronan spreads his palms over my butt cheeks, then hauls me up and against him, only to shift and press my back against the tiled wall.
His mouth is on my breast a fraction of a second later. “And you know what else?”
“What?” I whimper.
His left hand glides under my thigh and between my legs, slickening his fingers with my arousal before he begins to sweep them up my sensitive flesh.
“I’ve been hard for you since the second I left.
I didn’t touch myself once. Not even this morning.
I wanted it to be unbearable by the time I had you under me again.
And now? Baby, I’m fucking starving for you. ”
I let my head fall back and against the tile, breathing heavy with the feel of his fingers circling my swollen clit. “Can I ask you something else?” I breathe barely loud enough to be audible through the water.
“Anything,” he groans, his breathing just as deep, just as labored as mine.
Ronan slips a finger inside me, and I gasp, white-hot pleasure surging through me.
“C…can I… God, Ran,” I break off with a moan when he sucks hard on my nipple.
He works a second finger inside me, curling them to stimulate my inner walls in the most delicious way.
“Can I have a key?” I manage to squeak before a moan tears from my throat and reverberates loudly through the bathroom.
“To the apartment?”
How Ronan is able to formulate complete sentences while giving me such unspeakable pleasure is beyond me. Unlike him, I don’t manage to form a coherent word and make do with a simple nod.
He stills, just for a second, as if the weight of the question hits him. Then his lips curl into a bright smile. “Fuck, yeah. Of course you can, baby.”
I don’t know if it’s my brain—high on all the sexy, feel-good hormones—or if he really is as excited about me having a key as I think he sounds, but I decide to take this as a win. I finally allow myself to melt into him, letting reason slip away, giving in to need, to love, to him.