Chapter 12 Ciara
Chapter Twelve
CIARA
The silence in the car is thick and hums with tension.
I cross my legs and press my back deeper into the leather seat, as if it might swallow me whole. But it doesn’t, and I’m still here, sitting beside Ronan in his very expensive car as his driver takes us to his very expensive house after participating in a very expensive wedding I never asked for.
And it’s only just beginning.
I risk a glance at him, telling myself I’m checking to see if he looks as miserable as I feel, but he doesn’t.
He’s nothing but relaxed as he looks out of the window, one elbow resting on the armrest between us and his other arm across his lap.
His casual demeanor makes me want to scream, but I can’t.
That’s what he wants, and I’m not about to give Ronan Sullivan the satisfaction of seeing me break.
When he catches me looking at him, his lips pull up into a smirk that’s pure arrogance.
God, I hate that smirk.
“So, tell me… How does it feel to be Mrs. Sullivan?” His voice drips with that signature smugness.
I roll my eyes. “It makes me sound like a fifty-year-old housewife with a coupon drawer.”
I force my attention from the hulking great man beside me to the window instead.
Ronan laughs. An actual real laugh, rich and deep, which takes me by surprise.
I don’t think I’ve ever heard the man laugh before. In all honesty, I didn’t think he was capable of it.
“Well, when I’m done with you tonight, you’ll feel anything but fifty.”
I snap my head toward him, narrowing my eyes. “Let’s get something straight right now. Just because we’re married does not mean we’re sleeping together.”
His smirk deepens. “Who said anything about sleep?”
“God, you’re disgusting.”
“I prefer honest.”
“I prefer silent.”
“Ciara, I’m kidding. What exactly do you expect from me tonight?”
I don’t answer.
A frown appears between his dark brows. “Do you think I’ll drag you to the bedroom? Try to claim what’s mine now that I’ve put a ring on your finger?”
My jaw clenches, and I ball my hands into fists as my anger spikes.
The thought of him having any claim over me makes me sick to my stomach. But then the edge of my ring digs into my skin, and I realize it’s too late to fight him.
Even if he doesn’t take me to bed, I’m still tied to him in every other way.
“I’m not that man, Ciara. Despite what you think.” His voice is hard.
I look at him then with a mixture of anger and disgust. “No? Then what are you?”
“Your husband.”
The words settle between us like a loaded gun.
Ronan’s eyes darken as he looks at me, but I can tell he’s enjoying every second of my discomfort and the twisted power play happening between us. What’s worse is that I think a part of me is enjoying it too.
Fighting with him is giving me something to hold on to when everything else has been stripped away.
Being angry is a hell of a lot easier than being miserable, so I cling to that anger with every ounce of strength I have left because I don’t think I can survive my new life without it.
The car turns into the long, winding driveway lined with hedges manicured to within an inch of their lives. His house, or rather our house, looms at the end like a castle, and I half expect there to be a drawbridge and moat.
Even before my own family’s estate fell pretty much into ruin, it was never this grand. But I refuse to let myself be impressed by the ostentation.
The driver parks the car and cuts the engine, but neither Ronan nor I make any move to get out.
“You know…” Ronan eventually turns in his seat. “There’s a clause in the contract about wifely duties. It’s all very traditional.”
“I must have missed the part in the contract where I agreed to become your personal plaything.”
He shrugs before reaching between us to unbuckle my seatbelt. He’s not close enough to touch me, but I still catch a waft of his cologne and bite back a moan at the rich, musky scent.
God, he smells incredible.
“I’ve got a sharp memory,” he murmurs. “I’m pretty sure it was in the fine print.”
“You can service yourself, Sullivan. I’ll have no part in it.”
He doesn’t even blink. “I might do just that. And I can guarantee, sweetheart, that when I do, you’ll be front and center in my mind.”
I almost choke on my own breath as Ronan’s gaze travels down my body, lingering a fraction too long on my breasts.
“Especially, in that dress. Or maybe out of it.”
Heat born of anger, and something else I refuse to name, flares across my cheeks, but before I can clear my head long enough to retort, Ronan slides out of the car and walks around to open my door, then he offers me his hand as if he’s some sort of gentleman.
I hesitate but think of my heels and my long dress. It’s less mortifying to take his hand than to trip on my dress.
Except the moment our palms meet and I step out of the car, Ronan yanks me forward with zero warning, pulling me flush against his chest.
“See?” His lips brush my ear as his hands move to grip my hips. “You’re already falling for me.”
My hands rest against the broad muscles of his chest to steady myself as his breath tickles my ear.
The heat radiating from his powerful body is overwhelming, and that, mixed with the feeling of his fingers digging into my hips, sends my mind into a frenzy.
Before I can stop myself, I lift my face up to his and kiss him.
I don’t know what possesses me to cross that line. Maybe it’s exhaustion from the weight of the day, or maybe, just maybe, I want to prove that I can control him. That if I take the lead, I can take something back and make him feel powerless for once in his life.
But the second our lips meet in a tangle of desperation, I’ve already lost.
Ronan kisses me back, his soft lips a stark contrast to the hard wall of muscle that is the rest of his body.
Instantly, he takes over as he presses me against the side of the car, commanding my body to move as his tongue forces its way into my mouth.
Tasting him should repulse me, but the first stroke of his tongue against mine starts a moan building in my throat, and my body melts against his.
I sink my fingers into the material of his shirt, holding him closer as our tongues tangle together.
Ronan’s hand moves to my head, and his fingers press into my hair, tugging on the strands so I have no choice but to tilt my head back for him to deepen the kiss.
My legs are about to give out, and every inch of my skin feels as if it’s on fire, all from a kiss.
When he finally pulls away, I swallow a whimper. But then he lifts me into his arms, his dark eyes blazing with need as he carries me up the front steps and into the house.
Neither of us speaks as he takes me upstairs. The only sound is that of our heavy breathing.
My arms loop around his neck, my fingers resting against the soft material of his shirt as he heads down the hall and into what looks to be the master bedroom.
His bedroom.
I shouldn’t be here.
We shouldn’t be doing this.
But then he sets me on the enormous bed like I’m something precious and looks at me with such need, as if he actually wants me, that I can’t find it in me to be disgusted. And that might be the worst part of it all.
I relax into the plush bed as Ronan moves over me, caging me between his arms as his lips find mine once more.
There’s nothing delicate about the way he claims my mouth, but that only turns me on more.
Clawing at his shoulders, I arch into his touch as he kisses along my neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin with his teeth.
Fuck, I don’t think I’ve been this turned on in my life, and he hasn’t done anything other than kiss me.
I’m desperate to wrap my legs around his waist, to pull him closer against me to see if he’s just as aroused as I am. But my dress is becoming tangled in my legs, which only adds to my growing frustration.
I must make a sound as Ronan pulls back and looks down at me, his trademark smirk playing on his swollen lips.
“Everything okay?” His dark eyes sparkle with amusement.
“Take it off.”
“What was that?” He pinches my waist.
“My dress,” I pant as I try to reach around my body to undo the buttons. “Take it off.”
His eyes flash, and then his mouth is once again on mine as his hands move over my body.
“How the hell do you get this thing off?” he growls.
“The back.”
He pulls back and flips me onto my front in an instant, and I gasp.
His hands move down my back, undoing the buttons one by one until the dress falls open and reveals the very skimpy lace panties I chose.
“Were these a part of the extortionate bill you racked up?” He dips his finger into the waistband and tugs on them.
“Maybe…”
“There’s nothing to them.”
“That’s what makes them so expensive.” I glance over my shoulder. “Which is why I couldn’t afford a bra to go with them.”
Ronan looks seconds away from snapping as his eyes roam my bare back, as if just now realizing that the only thing shielding me from him is a scrap of lace.
“Fucking hell,” he groans as he rubs a hand over his face.
I guess I do have more control than I thought.
The thought has me fighting a smile as Ronan moves to stand at the edge of the bed before bunching the material of the skirt in his hands.
I cling to the bed as he pulls my dress away, leaving me in nothing but the white lace panties.
“Turn over.”
I take a breath before doing as he says. Every instinct in my body tells me to shield myself, to not be vulnerable in front of this man, but I ignore each of those instincts, if only to see the look on Ronan’s face when he sees my bare breasts.
But to my surprise, he gives nothing away. His dark eyes remain locked on mine, which only adds to the building ache between my thighs.
“Take off your panties.”
My mouth is painfully dry as I consider the fact that once my panties are off, I will be completely naked and exposed. But the throbbing between my thighs makes it hard to think straight.
I need relief, and if I have to get it from Ronan Sullivan, then so be it.
Keeping my eyes on his, I lift my knees to my chest and slowly slide my panties over my thighs.
His body is entirely still as he watches me, as if he’s been carved from stone.
That is, until I toss the panties aside and slowly spread my legs to reveal myself to him.
Only then does he falter.