Chapter 7
RONAN
The car pulls away from the Bergman estate, and I watch her reflection in the tinted window.
She’s ethereal in the passing streetlights—gold hair tumbling loose where my fingers have already disturbed it, lips gone from my kisses.
My body is still tight with the rage I felt when Vivian tried to diminish her.
Nobody has the right to talk to her like that. Nobody.
What Vivian doesn’t understand is that I’m the one who’s been captured.
“Thank you,” Rayne says, breaking the silence. “For defending me back there.”
I turn to her. “I won’t tolerate anyone disrespecting you.”
Her eyes search mine, hungry and uncertain. It’s that look again—like she's memorizing me, storing up details for later when I’m gone. But I’m not going anywhere. And neither is she.
She bites her lip, and that small gesture ignites something primal in me. I lean across the seat and take her mouth with mine, swallowing her gasp of surprise. Her hesitation lasts only a heartbeat before she melts against me, fingers clutching my shirt.
I pull her onto my lap, the silk of her dress sliding dangerously high on her thighs. She straddles me, deepening the kiss with a boldness that leaves me breathless. There’s an urgency to her tonight, a wildness I haven’t seen before.
“Ronan,” she whispers against my mouth. “I want…”
“Tell me,” I growl, nipping at her throat.
“I want to remember every second of this.”
Something in her voice—that note of finality—makes me pull back to study her face. She thinks this ends tomorrow. Our arrangement, our weekend together. The money will change hands, and she’ll walk away.
She has no idea how wrong she is.
“Look at me,” I command, tilting her chin up. “This isn’t ending, Rayne.”
Doubt flickers in her eyes. “The auction was just—”
“Fuck the auction. That’s not what this is anymore.”
Before she can argue, I claim her mouth again, pouring every ounce of possession into my kiss. She responds with equal fervor, rolling her hips against me until I’m hard as steel beneath her.
“Mr. Ward.” The driver’s voice interrupts us through the intercom. “We’ve arrived.”
I break the kiss, watching her chest rise and fall with rapid breaths. Her eyes are glazed with desire, cheeks flushed.
Mine. All mine.
“Come,” I say, opening the door and leading her out.
The moment we step inside the mansion, she’s on me again, fingers working at my tie with surprising dexterity. I back her against the wall, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand.
“Eager, aren’t we?” I say, biting gently at her earlobe.
“I need you,” she breathes. “Now.”
There’s that desperation again, like she’s racing against a clock only she can hear. I release her wrists to unzip her dress, letting it pool at her feet. She stands before me in nothing but lace panties and heels, her skin glowing in the dim light of the foyer.
“Perfect,” I whisper, trailing my fingers down her bare stomach.
She tugs me forward by my tie, her boldness shocking and arousing in equal measure. “Your turn.”
I let her undress me, watching her face as she reveals my chest, my arms. Her fingers trace the muscles there with reverence, and something in my chest tightens painfully.
No one has ever looked at me the way she does, like I’m more than my wealth or power.
Like I’m a man she craves for himself alone.
She slides to her knees, looking up at me through her lashes as she unbuckles my belt. I nearly come undone at the sight.
“Not yet,” I growl, lifting her back to her feet. “I need to be inside you first.”
I scoop her into my arms and carry her up the stairs, her mouth never leaving mine. We stumble down the hallway, shedding the last of our clothing as we go. By the time we reach my bedroom, we’re both naked, panting with need.
I throw her onto the bed, watching her bounce on the mattress. Her hair fans out around her like spun gold against the dark sheets.
She reaches for me, but I step back, taking in the view. Her full breasts, the curve of her hips, the apex of her thighs glistening with want. I want to devour her slowly, but there’s time for that later. Right now, I need to claim her.
“Ronan,” she says, spreading her legs in invitation. “Please.”
I crawl up her body, trailing kisses from her ankle to her inner thigh. Her scent is intoxicating. When my mouth finds her pussy, she arches off the bed with a cry that echoes through the room.
I taste her thoroughly, lapping at her wetness, circling her clit with my tongue until her thighs tremble around my head. I can barely breathe, and I don’t even fucking care. There’s no better way to go than being suffocated like this.
With the way she writhes and tightens her thighs around me, I can tell she’s close, so close, her fingers tangled in my hair.
“Not yet,” I say, pulling away, fully aware of her juices glistening around my mouth. “I want to feel you come around me.”
I slide up her body, positioning myself at her entrance. Our eyes lock as I push into her—one slow, relentless thrust that buries me to the hilt. So fucking good. The sensation is overwhelming, her tight, wet heat enveloping me completely.
“Fuck,” I groan, staying still to savor the feeling. “Sweetheart, you're killing me.”
She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper. “Move. Please, Ronan.”
I begin to thrust, slowly at first, then with increasing force. Each slam of my hips draws a gasp from her lips, a sound I want to bottle and keep forever. Her nails dig into my back, marking me as thoroughly as I’m marking her.
“You’re mine,” I growl into her ear. “Say it.”
“I’m yours.” She lifts her hips and meets me thrust for thrust. “God, Ronan, I’m yours.”
I flip us over without breaking our connection, settling her on top. She looks like a goddess above me, hair wild, breasts bouncing with each movement. She takes control, setting a pace that drives me to the edge of sanity.
“That’s it,” I say, hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. “Take what’s yours.”
Her movements become frantic, desperate. I reach between us to circle her clit with my thumb, and she shatters, crying out my name as her inner walls clench around me. The sight of her coming undone is too much. I flip us again, pounding into her with abandon as my own release approaches.
“Inside,” she gasps. “I want to feel you come inside me. Coat me with your seed, Ronan.”
That’s all it takes. I explode, emptying myself into her with a primal groan, claiming her in the most ancient way possible. We stay locked together, breathing hard, sweat cooling on our skin.
When I finally roll to the side, I pull her against me, unwilling to break contact completely. She nestles against my chest, her breathing slowly returning to normal. I trace patterns on her bare back, feeling more complete than I ever have.
“I've never…” she begins, then stops.
“Never what?”
She shakes her head, smiling softly. “Nothing. It’s just … this was incredible.”
There it is again—that note of finality. Like she’s saying goodbye already. I tighten my grip on her.
“Get some sleep,” I say, kissing her forehead. “We have a lot to talk about tomorrow.”
She tenses slightly before relaxing against me. Within minutes, her breathing evens out, and she’s asleep in my arms, looking heartbreakingly peaceful. I study her face in the moonlight—the curve of her cheek, the fan of her lashes against her skin. So beautiful it aches.
Whatever she’s hiding, whatever debt or trouble has driven her to that auction, I’ll fix it. I have the resources to solve any problem, eliminate any threat. Tomorrow, I’ll tear down whatever wall she thinks stands between us.
Because this woman in my arms belongs here. With me. With Ryan.
She thinks she’s leaving tomorrow.
She’s wrong.