Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
K iera
My face was burning as I walked away, still naked and trembling, the heat from our encounter still burning through me. Every step felt heavy, my legs unsteady beneath me, but I didn’t dare look back. Not until I was a few paces away.
Then, as if drawn by some invisible force, I glanced over my shoulder—and instantly regretted it.
Ronan stood where I’d left him, calm and composed, as if the last hour hadn’t fazed him in the least, even though it had completely unraveled me. His broad shoulders seemed impossibly large in the warm glow of the penthouse lighting, the muscles in his arms flexing slightly as he slid his shirt back over his torso. The crisp white fabric clung to him, highlighting the hard planes of his chest and the lean strength beneath.
He moved with deliberate ease, buttoning the shirt from the bottom up, his fingers quick and sure. There was something almost ritualistic about it, the way he tucked the hem neatly into his slacks before fastening the belt, the leather sliding through the loops with a faint whisper.
I couldn’t stop staring.
The man was infuriating, maddening, and—God help me—utterly captivating. His dark hair was slightly tousled, the faintest shadow of stubble lining his jaw. His gray eyes, sharp and unreadable, flicked up to meet mine just as I realized I’d been caught watching.
My breath hitched, and I turned away quickly, my cheeks burning hotter as I hurried down the hallway.
The walls were a rich, deep gray, accented with warm lighting that gave the space an inviting glow. The hardwood floors beneath my feet were smooth and polished, but all I could think about was the taste of him and myself still lingering on my tongue.
A series of black-and-white photographs lined the walls, each one capturing rugged landscapes that I guessed were Irish—rolling hills, craggy cliffs, and misty coastlines that seemed to stretch endlessly into the horizon.
At the end of the hallway, I pushed open a door and stepped into the master bedroom. My breath caught as I took it in.
The room was massive, with floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the glittering city skyline like a living painting. Heavy curtains in a deep emerald green were drawn back, their color complementing the soft tones of the room. The centerpiece was a king-sized bed, its frame sleek and modern, dressed in crisp white linens and a thick, plush duvet. A collection of textured pillows in varying shades of gold and green added a touch of warmth.
A fireplace sat against one wall. Above it, a large painting of a stormy Irish coast hung, the dark waves crashing against jagged rocks in a way that felt both wild and serene. A seating area was tucked into one corner, with two leather armchairs flanking a low glass coffee table.
But it was the door to the en suite bathroom that caught my attention.
I stepped inside and felt a rush of envy I didn’t want to admit.
The bathroom was a masterpiece of modern design, all marble and glass with accents of polished chrome. A massive shower dominated one wall, its glass enclosure revealing multiple rainfall showerheads, body jets, and even a built-in bench. The floor was heated, the subtle warmth seeping into my bare feet as I padded across the space.
A deep soaking tub sat beneath a window, its sleek curves framed by a tray holding a neatly folded towel, a small jar of bath salts, and a single white candle. Double vanities stretched along one wall, their marble countertops pristine and gleaming under the soft glow of recessed lighting.
I caught my reflection in the mirror and cringed. My face was flushed, my hair a wild mess, and my eyes still red from earlier.
I looked… undone.
I turned around to see my ass was still bright red. Not only that, but there were three rectangular welts marking my bare cheeks.
From his belt…
With a sigh, I stepped into the shower and turned the handle, the water cascading down from the overhead rainfall fixture in a warm, soothing stream. The heat wrapped around me, washing away the lingering tension in my muscles as I leaned against the glass, closing my eyes.
The water rushed over my skin, easing the sting that still radiated faintly from my backside. I let out a shaky breath, the sound swallowed by the steady hum of the water. For the first time that night, I felt like I could finally breathe.
But even as I stood there, letting the water rinse away the remnants of the evening, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. About the way he’d looked at me, the way his hands had felt, the way his presence filled every corner of the room.
I shook my head, trying to push the thoughts away, but they clung stubbornly, as persistent as the steam rising around me.
“Get it together, Kiera,” I muttered under my breath, reaching for the sleek bottle of body wash.
But no matter how hard I tried to focus on the soothing warmth of the shower, the sound of the water, or the overwhelming luxury of my surroundings, one thought kept echoing in my mind:
I wasn’t sure what scared me more—how much I hated him, or how much I didn’t .
The warm water cascaded over my body as I lathered soap on my skin. The subtle, woodsy scent of the body wash filled the air, and I took a deep breath, trying to let it calm the storm still swirling inside me.
I worked slowly, my hands trembling slightly as I scrubbed away the tension lingering in my shoulders, my neck, my cum-coated thighs—every inch of me still burning with the memory of Ronan’s touch, his words, his unrelenting presence.
With a frustrated groan, I turned toward the glass, letting the water rinse the soap from my skin. My mind was a tangled mess of anger, humiliation, and something darker.
Unwanted desire.
I stepped out of the shower, wrapping myself in one of the soft, oversized towels hanging nearby. The heated floor warmed my bare feet as I padded over to the sink. I opened the drawers until I found a brush and a hair dryer. I dried my hair, brushed it, and took a deep breath before I strode back into the bedroom, the cool air swirling against my damp skin.
Spread out on the bed was a dress—a stunning, floor-length gown in a rich forest green that shimmered faintly in the soft light. The fabric was luxurious, the kind of thing you’d see on a runway or a red carpet, with a fitted bodice and a flowing skirt that seemed designed to make anyone wearing it feel like royalty.
Beside it sat a pair of sleek black kitten heels, simple yet elegant, their pointed toes catching the light.
And then there was the other item.
I froze, my cheeks flaming as I picked up the thin scrap of fabric lying atop the dress.
They were panties, technically, but calling them that felt generous. The lace was delicate, nearly see-through, and so minimal it seemed to exist solely for decoration rather than function. The black material felt weightless in my hands, the intricate floral design leaving very little to the imagination.
“What the hell,” I grumbled under my breath, my heart racing as I held the racy garment between my fingers.
The blush spread from my cheeks to my neck, my entire body burning as I imagined what I’d look like wearing something like this. Worse, I couldn’t stop the treacherous thought that flickered through my mind: Ronan picked these.
I shook my head, tossing the scrap of lace onto the bed and quickly reaching for the gown. The fabric slid over my skin like water, soft and smooth, hugging my curves in a way that felt both indulgent and infuriating. I slipped into the heels, the small lift making me feel taller, more poised.
But my eyes kept drifting back to the panties.
With a groan, I snatched them off the bed and marched toward the living room, the fabric clutched tightly in my hand. My heels clicked against the hardwood as I entered the open space, my frustration bubbling over as I spotted Ronan near the windows, his back to me as he stared out at the city skyline.
“Ronan,” I said abruptly, my voice carrying more anger than I’d intended.
He turned, his dark eyes sweeping over me in one slow, deliberate glance. The faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, and I felt the heat in my cheeks flare even hotter.
I held up the lacy panties, my hand trembling slightly.
“I can’t wear these.”
He stepped closer, his presence as commanding as ever, and I hated how my pulse quickened as he reached out to take the fabric from my hand. His fingers brushed mine briefly, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from reacting.
“You don’t have to wear them if you don’t want to,” he said calmly.
The simplicity of his response caught me off guard, and I blinked up at him, my anger faltering slightly.
“I… what?”
He tilted his head slightly, his gaze steady. “I said you don’t have to wear them. It’s your choice, love.”
My breath hitched, and I swallowed hard, my fingers curling into fists at my sides. I watched as he tucked the sheer fabric into his pocket, and I realized that there weren’t going to be any other options.
I wasn’t going to be wearing anything under my dress tonight.