Chapter 3
RONAN
Ifeel like absolute shit. It’s probably because I’ve had exactly zero sleep or because I’ve taken two cold showers and jerked off both times, just so I wouldn’t knock on Rayne’s door and stake my claim right there and then.
I’ve never felt the lack of self-control as much as I did when I wanted nothing more than to fuck her senseless.
This morning, she looks rested. And rest is the last thing on my mind.
I watch the sunlight slowly creep toward her hand, her slender fingers curled around a coffee mug. Rayne hasn’t noticed me yet. She leans against the kitchen island, staring out through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the gardens beyond.
Her hair falls loose around her shoulders, catching the light.
Gold on gold. She’s still in a pair of pajamas slightly bigger than her size—a silk short-sleeved button-down top and shorts.
It shouldn’t be provocative. But the casual intimacy of her in my kitchen, comfortable enough to let her guard down when she thinks no one's watching. ..
I want to memorize this moment.
“Sleep well?” I ask, stepping into the kitchen.
She startles, coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim of her mug. “Jesus. You scared me. I didn’t hear you come in.”
“You startle so easily. Should I start wearing a bell around my neck to announce my presence?”
A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. “If you want.”
I cross to the coffee machine, hyperaware of how the air changes when I pass near her. The slight intake of her breath. The way her body tenses, not with fear but anticipation. The widening of her eyes.
So she affects me pretty much the same way I affect her. Good.
“You have quite the place here,” she says, aiming for casual. Failing. Cute. “I explored a little this morning. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Did you go to the basement?”
“No, why?”
“Good, then I wouldn’t have to kill you.”
“What do you—” Realization dawns on her, and she laughs. The sound is so sweet I’d bottle it if I could. “Oh my God, you have such a dark sense of humor. What’s in the basement, huh? A machete, a ski mask?”
I just smirk and shrug. “It’s for me to know and for you to wonder.”
“Sadistic. Also quite on-brand for billionaires, if I’m honest.”
I pour myself coffee, watching her over the rim of my mug. “Did you find anything interesting?”
“The library.” Her eyes light up. “It’s incredible. Three stories of books, and that spiral staircase? I have photos of those in my Pinterest boards.”
I don’t know what the hell a Pinterest board is, but she’ll think me ancient if I ask. “You like books?”
“Yes! I love to read. Though I'm guessing most of your collection is business strategy and investment banking.”
“No.” I move closer, settling against the counter beside her. It seems I find myself wanting to be near her all the time, and I’m drawn to her almost like iron filings to a magnet. “Contemporary fiction.”
She squints at me and tilts her head to the side. “You don’t strike me as a fiction kind of guy.”
“You don’t know me yet.”
Her cheeks flush at the "yet"—the implication that she will, that this weekend is only the beginning. “I suppose not.”
I should back off. Give her space. Keep things polite and casual, at least until she's more comfortable.
But being near her makes restraint feel like a foreign concept.
Every movement she makes—the nervous tuck of her hair behind her ear, the dart of her tongue across her lower lip—feels designed to test my control.
I’ve always prided myself on my self-control, but that is currently nowhere to be found. I am, after all, still just a man.
“What do you have planned for today?” she asks, her voice slightly higher than normal.
“That depends.”
“On?”
I turn to face her fully. “On what you want, Rayne.”
Her throat works as she swallows. “I’m ... not sure what you mean.”
“Yes, you are.” I set my coffee down, take hers from her hands, and place it beside mine.
“We can pretend we’re just having a pleasant weekend.
Polite conversation. Proper distance. Or…
” I close the distance between us until my face is just inches from hers.
“We can stop dancing around what’s happening here. ”
Her eyes darken, pupils dilating. “And what exactly is happening here?”
“You tell me.” I dip my head closer, my voice dropping to a murmur. “Your heart rate picks up when I’m near you. You watch my mouth when I speak. Last night in this kitchen, you wanted me to kiss you.”
“Did I?” She backs up, bumping against the counter edge. “You’re very sure of yourself.”
“I’m sure of what I see.” I rest my hands on the counter on either side of her, caging her in “And what I feel.
I even saw you rubbing your thighs together. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you don’t feel it, too.”
“Mr. Ward—”
“Ronan,” I say. “You called me Ronan last night.”
“Ronan.” My name in her mouth is sin itself, and it makes my cock harder than a crowbar. “This will complicate things.”
“Why?” I lean in until our foreheads nearly touch. “We’re attracted to each other. The question isn’t whether the attraction exists. The question is what we do about it.”
She lifts her chin, defiance flashing in those soft blue eyes. “And if I say nothing?”
“Then nothing happens.” I push away from the counter, giving her space, no matter how it kills me to do so. “I meant what I said at the auction. You’re not obligated to do anything. My bid bought your company, not your body.”
Redness creeps along her cheeks and neck. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me for basic human decency.”
She laughs, a bright sound that hits me in the chest. “You’d be surprised how rare that can be.”
“I wouldn’t, actually.” The thought of anyone treating her as less than precious makes something dark unfurl inside me. “But while we’re being honest, I want you, Rayne. I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you. And I think you want me, too. Stop pretending you don’t feel it.”
Her cheeks flush crimson. “I never said I didn’t feel ... something.”
“Something,” I echo, amused.
“You’re hot, criminally so. I’d have to be blind not to notice.” She’s flustered now, words tumbling out faster, and her eyes dart to the walls, the chairs, looking anywhere but me. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to jump into bed with you just because you paid for a weekend date.”
“No.” I reach out, tracing the line of her jaw with my thumb. She shivers but doesn’t pull away. “I expect you’d need better reasons than that.”
“L-like what?”
“Like the fact that when I touch you” —I brush my fingers down her neck, feeling her pulse leap beneath my touch— “your whole body responds. Like the fact that you’ve been thinking about kissing me since last night.
Like the fact that right now, you’re wondering what my mouth would feel like on yours. On your neck. Between your thighs.”
Her breath catches. “You think you know what I want?”
“I know what I want to give you.”
A tremor runs through her. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “And what’s that?”
“Everything.”
I wait. Ball in her court. I’ve made my desire clear, but the next move is hers.
For a moment, she’s perfectly still, caught between running and surrendering. Then she reaches up, curls her fingers into the front of my shirt, and pulls me down to her.
Well, fuck.
The first touch of her lips is electric.
Soft, hesitant, then quickly turning hungry as she opens beneath me.
I groan into her mouth, my hands finding her waist, tugging her against me.
She tastes like coffee and something sweeter.
Her fingers tangle in my hair, nails scraping my scalp, and the little bite of pain breaks whatever restraint I had left.
I press her back against the counter, lifting her easily onto it. Her legs part, welcoming me between them as I deepen the kiss, claiming her mouth with a raw desperation that catches me off-guard. I’ve never lost control like this, never wanted someone with such blinding intensity.
Yet here I am.
“Ronan,” she gasps as I trail kisses down her throat.
“I’ve thought about this since I saw you,” I say, nipping at her pulse point, sucking on the sensitive spot on the side of her neck. “Thought about how you’d taste. How you’d sound when I touch you.”
Her head falls back, giving me better access to the delicate skin of her throat. I suck hard enough to leave a mark that will take days to fade. Mine.
“This is crazy,” she says, even as her hips roll against me. “We barely know each other.”
“Then let’s get acquainted.” I capture her mouth again, swallowing her moan as my hands slide beneath her top, finding warm, bare skin. Her body arches into my touch.
“Wait,” she whispers against my lips, but her actions contradict her words as she wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me closer, giving me no room to move. “We shouldn’t—”
“Tell me to stop.” My voice is rough and gravelly with want. “Tell me you don’t want this.”
Instead of answering, she kisses me again, deeper, dirtier.
Her tongue slides against mine as her hands fumble with the buttons of my pajama top.
I help her, nearly tearing the fabric in my haste.
When her palms flatten against my bare chest, my heart stops beating.
I’m on the verge of going mad with desire.
I begin unbuttoning her top, annoyed at how many fucking buttons there are. “Let me see you.”
Beneath, she’s not wearing anything, and the sight of her, half-undressed and flushed with desire, hits me like a physical blow.
“Perfect.” I bend to press my lips to the swell of her breast. She whimpers, threading her fingers through my hair to hold me there.
I cup one tit, feeling her nipple harden against my palm. When I roll it between my fingers, she cries out, hips bucking against mine. The friction sends a jolt of pleasure so intense it’s almost pain. I’m painfully hard, straining against my jeans, desperate to be inside her.
“Rayne,” I growl. “I need to feel you. All of you.”
She nods frantically. Her breasts are perfect and soft. I lower my head, taking one nipple into my mouth, savoring her cry of pleasure. Her nails dig into my shoulders, urging me on as I lick and suck.
“Please, Ronan.”
I slide my hand down, beneath the waistband of her pajama bottoms, finding her hot and wet through thin cotton. “Is this what you want?” I press against her center, feeling her hips jerk in response.
“Yes.” Her head falls back, eyes fluttering closed. “God, yes.”
I’m about to strip her completely, to take her right here on my kitchen counter, when a distinctive rumble breaks through the haze of desire. It’s like a bucket of ice-cold water over my head. The sound of tires on gravel. A car pulling up the driveway.
I freeze, instantly recognizing it. “Fuck.”
Rayne blinks up at me, lips swollen, eyes glazed. “What?”
“My son.” I step back, running a hand through my disheveled hair. Thank fuck we didn’t tear my top. “He’s back early.”
“Your—” Her eyes widen in shock. “You have a son?”
“Ryan. He’s five. He was with my parents overnight.” I button her top and smooth her hair, unable to stop myself from grazing her bottom lip with my thumb. “I wasn’t expecting them back until noon.”
She scrambles to cover herself, face flaming with embarrassment. “You didn’t think to mention you have a child?”
“It didn’t come up.” I button my shirt with shaking hands, willing my body to calm down.
She hops off the counter and runs her fingers through her hair. I almost laugh because that really didn’t do much. “This is … I don’t even know what this is! Please tell me you don’t have a wife or girlfriend.”
At this, I wipe the smirk off my face. “No, I don’t.”
The front door opens, voices drifting toward us. Ryan’s high-pitched chatter, my mother’s gentle responses. They’ll be in the kitchen any minute, and Rayne looks delightfully rumpled.
I step close to Rayne, cupping her face between my hands. “This isn’t over,” I promise, my voice low and fierce. “We will finish what we started.”
She stares up at me, trembling, lips still swollen from my kisses. Torn between wanting to run and wanting to drag me back against her.
“Daddy!” Ryan’s voice calls out, closer now. “Check out my new Godzilla toys! Yes, I said toys. We couldn’t find Mothra, but Nana bought me Rodan and Mechagodzilla.”
I brush my thumb across Rayne’s lower lip again. “We’ll talk later.”
I step away just as Ryan bursts into the kitchen, a whirlwind of energy and excitement, leaving Rayne breathless against the counter, watching me with eyes that can’t decide between desire and panic.