Chapter 5 Roni
CHAPTER FIVE
RONI
Nathan’s mouth is still on mine, like he’s afraid I’ll vaporize if he stops kissing me for even one second.
I’m pressed against the back of his office door, lips swollen, heart hammering so hard I swear it echoes through the room.
His hands are huge and gentle as they explore my body.
There’s a wild, desperate edge to him now—like he’s finally let himself off a leash he’s been on for six long years.
He pulls back a fraction, breathing hard, and tucks a wild strand of hair behind my ear. “Roni,” he breathes, sending shivers down my spine.
“I’m here,” I whisper. My voice is shaky. So are my legs. I’m pretty sure if he let go, I’d collapse in a puddle of goo.
He closes his eyes, collects himself, and leans his forehead against mine. “If I don’t get you out of here right now, I’m going to fuck you on this desk,” he says, dead serious. “And I want our first time to be special.”
My brain stalls out at “fuck you on this desk.” That’s where I’m at, emotionally. Then, I realize he said, “our first time.” This is really happening.
But Nathan’s already pulling out his phone, typing at lightning speed.
His hands shake, just a little, and it makes him seem less like a millionaire CEO and more like a regular, nervous human being.
He taps send with a vengeance. “I’m letting Eamon know I’m gone for the night and not to bug me unless there’s a fire. ”
The way he stares at me causes my face to heat, but I can’t bring myself to care. Nathan Brennan wants me. Like, wants me wants me. All the old rules are gone.
The hallways are chaos—everyone in the club seems to be celebrating, drinking, and generally being too loud. Nathan’s hand is warm and huge around mine as he steers us past the VIP bar, through a throng of half-drunk girls, and into the private elevator.
The doors slide shut. It’s just us, the hum of electricity, and the buzz of adrenaline still in my bloodstream.
Nathan leans back against the wall, looking at me like he’s memorizing every pixel. He moves closer, the space between us now just atoms. “You’re fucking mine.” He says it low, the way you’d say a secret or a threat. “You always have been.”
I don’t know what to do with that, so I kiss him again. His hand slides up my thigh, finds the hem of my dress, and I gasp into his mouth. The elevator gently slides to a stop, and I’m pretty sure we’re about to set off the sprinkler system.
He holds my hand tight and leads me down the quiet hallway leading to his private penthouse.
I used to tease him for having both a fancy house on the outskirts of town and a penthouse in the Midnight Mischief building, and he’d tell me he needed the penthouse for the times he’s too tired to drive all the way to his house.
Now I can see what he means. It would suck to wait for him to drive us to his home miles away.
The first time I visited, I was overwhelmed by the size.
It’s easily ten times the square footage of my entire apartment, all soaring ceilings and sleek black-on-black everything.
Floor-to-ceiling windows wrap around the main room, showing off a view of the city that makes you feel like you’re in a spaceship.
There’s a baby grand piano in one corner, and a wall of books that I always suspected were just for show.
Tonight, the whole place feels different—less like a hotel lobby and more like a lair. Dangerous. Inviting.
Nathan lets go of my hand and shrugs off his suit jacket, tossing it over a chair. Then he turns to me, and his expression alternates somewhere between “smug” and “starving.”
“So. You’re here.” He spreads his arms, and for the first time, I notice he’s nervous.
Not that he shows it—his hands are steady, his face perfectly composed.
But I’ve known him long enough to spot the subtle tells: the way his fingers tap twice on the counter, the way his shoulders hitch ever so slightly before he speaks.
“I’m here,” I echo, toes sinking into the plush carpet. “And now what?”
He comes over, stops just short of touching me. “Now, I figure out how to not scare you off by moving fast.”
“I hate to tell you,” I snort, “but six years isn’t moving fast.” My words are apparently what he was looking for because he picks me up like I weigh nothing and carries me to the kitchen island.
He sets me down gently and slides a hand up my thigh, slowly, watching as goosebumps erupt along his path.
I’m too busy cataloging every new sensation to worry about being embarrassed by my reaction to his touch.
The heat of his palm on my skin, the scrape of stubble as he kisses down the side of my neck, and the way his body slots between my knees all combine to turn my mind to mush.
“I need to hear you say it,” he murmurs against my skin. “That you want this. That you want me.”
I lean in, let my lips brush his ear. “Nathan Brennan, if you don’t take me to bed in the next thirty seconds, I’m going to kick your butt.”
He laughs, low and rough, and the sound goes straight through me. “Yes, ma’am.”
He lifts me off the counter and heads down the long, dark hallway that leads to his bedroom.
Nathan’s bedroom is somehow more intimidating than his office. This room is all shadows and velvet and floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the city, and a huge bed that could sleep at least ten people.
He sets me down at the foot of the bed but keeps his hands on my waist like he’s afraid I’ll vanish. Actually, I’m kinda worried about the same thing. God. If I wake up and find this is all a dream, I’m going to be crushed.
There’s this wild, feral tension in his muscular body, like he’s barely keeping himself from tearing my dress off right here.
He stares at me with his intense brown eyes, and for a split second, I swear I’m hallucinating. No way am I actually standing in Nathan Brennan’s bedroom with his hands on my hips and his mouth so close I can taste him.
Oh, man. I’m in trouble. So much trouble.
If he lets go of me, I’m genuinely worried I’ll just melt into the carpet like a popsicle left in the sun.
Nathan’s thumb brushes my cheek. The softest touch. I can barely breathe.
“Roni,” he says on a groan.
His voice breaks me. “Yeah?” I sound like I just ran a marathon. My brain is mush, and my knees are marshmallows. Sexy.
He cups my cheeks so gently I nearly lose it. Instead, I stare straight into his wild, dark eyes and let the world go fuzzy around the edges.
His thumb runs over my lips. “You’re so damn gorgeous,” Nathan groans. “You know that? You drive me insane.”
“I try,” I gasp. The words come out all breathy and ridiculous, but I mean them.
He tilts my chin and kisses me again, deeply and slowly, like he’s trying to own my soul. My body basically short-circuits. I grip his shirt, yanking him closer, desperate to get my hands on every inch of him.
My boobs are screaming for attention under this dress. My whole body is humming. I’m seconds from combusting into actual flames.
Nathan finally pulls back, breathing like he just ran a marathon, his hands sliding down to my hips.
He lays me back on the bed, following me down without ever letting go. His hands slide up my sides, tracing the line of my ribs before skimming the underside of my boobs. The whole time, he watches my face, like he’s making sure every touch is exactly what I want.
It is. Oh, God, it is.
He reaches behind me and drags the zipper of my dress down, slow and reverent, before dragging the dress down to expose my skin, inch by inch.
My breath hitches, and for the first time in my life, I don’t feel self-conscious about what he’s seeing.
Nathan stares down at me with pure, feral hunger.
He’s memorizing me, cataloging every curve and dimple and stretch mark and thinking, Yes, this. Yes, her.
He kisses a trail down my neck, across my collarbone, pausing at the top of my bra. “May I?” he asks, voice wrecked.
I nod. Words are impossible for me now.
He unclasps it one-handed and tosses it aside. The air is cool, but Nathan’s mouth is hot as he claims my nipple with his lips, teeth nipping just enough to send a shock straight between my legs.
“Oh my goodness,” I gasp, arching up.
He grins, wicked and satisfied. “I want to see how many times I can make you say that tonight.”
“It’s a worthwhile goal,” I shoot back, fighting for control.
He sits up, peels the button-down off and lets it fall, then yanks his undershirt over his head.
I’ve seen Nathan shirtless before—swimming, at the gym, the time he mowed his lawn shirtless—but this is different.
His body is made of sharp angles and muscle, ink peeking out under his right shoulder blade, and every inch of him is focused on me.
He runs a hand down my stomach, stopping at the waistband of my panties. “Still okay?” he asks, voice a low rumble.
“More than okay,” I breathe. “You have about five seconds before I lose my mind.”
He slips my panties off with an infuriating slowness, eyes locked on mine. “Patience, Veronica.”
“I don’t possess an ounce of patience,” I groan as he laughs, deep and delighted, and then there’s no more talking because his mouth is moving slowly across my chest. Sweet baby Jesus, I’m never going to survive this.
His tongue circles my nipple, and I nearly lose my mind.
I grab hold of his biceps out of pure self-preservation, fingers digging into solid muscle like I’m about to get swept away by a horny tornado.
Nathan’s got my boobs in both hands, and he’s worshipping them like he’s been deprived for years, which, okay, maybe he has.
But I definitely wasn’t expecting him to go full “starving man in a bakery” the first time he got me naked in his bed.
His thumb rolls over my nipple while his mouth drags across my skin, alternating between sweet and rough. I gasp, arching into him, and he just grins against my chest like the cocky bastard he is.
“Damn, Roni,” he growls, all raspy and wild. “You have no idea what you do to me.” His voice is so raw it makes my insides clench. My entire soul just turns to lava.
I don’t even have time to throw out a snappy comeback because Nathan is sliding lower, dragging his mouth down my belly like he wants to brand every inch of me with his lips. My brain gets stuck somewhere around “holy shit, this is happening” and refuses to reboot.
He nuzzles at my hipbone, stubble rasping against my skin, then hooks his giant hands around my thighs and spreads them open like I’m a gift he’s waited years to unwrap.
I’m shaking so hard, the bed squeaks under me.
Dignity? Never heard of her. Self-control?
She left the chat the second Nathan Brennan got his mouth on me.
Nathan looks up at me, eyes molten, and the cocky bastard actually smirks. “I’m going to devour you,” he growls, and I’m ready to beg him to hurry the heck up.
I can’t even form words. I just nod and grab the comforter in both hands, praying I don’t black out from sheer anticipation.
Nathan presses a kiss to the inside of my thigh, and my eyes cross. His hands are so big and warm, holding me open, and his tongue—
Holy. Freaking. Shit.
He runs it up my center with the slowest, hottest swipe, and I legit forget my own name. My hips jerk. My brain just shuts down.
I think I make a noise—a weird, breathy little yelp—but Nathan doesn’t laugh. Not even a little. All his focus is on me, like I’m the last cinnamon roll and he skipped lunch. His tongue circles my clit, then he sucks on it gently, and my vision goes white at the edges.
Oh my God. Oh-my-God-oh-my-God-oh-my-God.
I can’t stop trembling. I dig my nails into his shoulders as Nathan goes down on me like it’s a competition, tongue and fingers working in perfect sync, never once looking away from my face.
It’s overwhelming. I’ve never been the center of someone’s universe, not like this.
I almost cry from how good it feels. My thighs are shaking, and my heart is basically punching a hole through my chest. Nathan drags his tongue up my center again, slow and direct, and I actually forget how to breathe.
If this is a dream, I never want to wake up.
He groans against me, like he’s the one losing control.
The vibration makes me arch off the bed, clutching at his hair for something, anything, to anchor me.
I realize I’m whining his name, desperate and needy, but I don’t care even a little bit.
He licks me again, then flicks his tongue over my clit, causing my body to nearly launch off the mattress.
“Nathan!” I gasp.
He looks up, mouth shiny, eyes completely wild. “That’s it, Roni. Give it to me. Let me hear you.” He slides one thick finger inside me, curling it against my inner wall, and my world just straight up evaporates.
Holy mother of cinnamon rolls.
I can’t even breathe. Every molecule in my body goes tight while every nerve ending lights up like the Fourth of July.
Nathan keeps his eyes locked on mine, mouth wicked, finger moving slowly and deeply, and I swear to God, I’m going to die from pleasure overload.
Right here. On his freakishly expensive sheets.
I can’t even form words. All I manage is this high-pitched, embarrassing whimper. That’s it. Like my entire brain-to-mouth pipeline is shut down.
Nathan’s grin goes full devilish. He slides in a second finger, just as slow, and then his tongue is back where I need it most, and my hips buck up all on their own. I think I scream his name as I come.
He gives me a minute to catch my breath, then kisses his way back up, lining himself over me. “I love you,” he says, and there’s nothing casual or flippant about it. He’s not asking. He’s not even hoping. He’s just stating a fact.
“I’ve always loved you,” I whisper, because there’s nothing else in the world I could possibly say.
Nathan groans my name and pushes in all the way, so deep that, for a split second, I forget how to breathe. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so full or so wanted in my entire life.
I clutch his shoulders and dig my nails in, leaving marks. Every part of me shakes as my brain goes to blue-screen. All I can do is gasp and hold on while he moves inside me, slow at first like he’s memorizing every single sensation.
“Oh my God,” I whimper into his neck.