21. Midnight Initiative #2
The broadcast gets louder.
Outside, fireworks crack in uneven bursts while the television crowd begins chanting the numbers down.
Ten.
Cami turns toward Griffin.
Nine.
His hand comes up to her cheek.
Eight.
I glance toward Ronan.
Seven.
He’s already looking at me.
Everything in me stills.
Six.
There is no smile on his face now.
No dry humor.
No distance.
Five.
His eyes drop to my mouth.
My pulse slams hard enough that I feel it in my throat.
Four.
He looks back into my eyes.
There is a question there.
Three.
I nod.
Barely.
Two.
Ronan moves.
One.
The television erupts.
So does the sky outside.
His hand comes to the back of my neck just as his mouth finds mine.
For one impossible second, I don’t move.
I can’t.
I have imagined this enough times that I should know what it feels like.
I don’t.
Imagination apparently doesn’t account for heat.
Or pressure.
Or the way Ronan kisses like he does everything else—with full intention.
There is no testing brush of mouths and no uncertain hesitation after months of knowing exactly what we want.
His lips press firmly against mine, then part, and something in my chest tears loose.
The fireworks outside become vibration more than sound.
I feel one detonate through the floor at the same time his fingers slide into my hair.
My pulse is hammering against his palm.
I don’t touch him.
Every instinct I have is screaming at me to close the space, grab his shirt, pull him closer, finally, finally… fucking finally put my hands on this man.
But I know him.
So I keep both hands clenched against my own thighs and kiss him back with everything I have.
Ronan doesn’t break the kiss as his hand finds my wrist. For half a second, his fingers circle it.
Then he lifts my hand and puts it against his waist.
It’s permission.
My entire body reacts.
I grip him.
Not hard. Just enough to know he’s real.
His breath breaks against my mouth.
Then he takes my other hand too and guides it, settling my palm against his ribs before releasing me.
That almost wrecks me more than the kiss.
Touch me.
Not spoken, but said all the time.
I do.
My hands slide around him, one spreading over his back while the other stays at his side, and the second I pull him closer, Ronan kisses me harder.
Fuck.
Months.
Months of wondering whether every look meant what I thought it meant.
Months of him naming things I couldn’t say, making space, setting rules, telling me not yet without ever making it feel like never.
His fingers tighten in my hair.
I feel the pull all the way down my spine.
My mouth opens further under his, and Ronan makes a quiet sound that I don’t think I’ve ever heard from him before.
It hits me like a punch.
I forget the television.
Forget the fireworks.
Forget that Griffin and Cami are three feet away.
There is only Ronan’s mouth, the hand at my neck, and the solid heat of him under my palms.
He tastes faintly like whiskey and champagne.
His beard catches against my skin.
Every tiny physical fact burns itself into me with brutal clarity.
I have wanted this for so long that having it hurts.
Not badly. Just enough to expose how much wanting I’ve been carrying.
When Ronan finally pulls back, I follow him before I can stop myself.
Not far.
His forehead settles against mine.
Both of us are breathing harder than a kiss should justify.
I laugh once—it comes out wrecked. “Fuck.”
Ronan’s thumb moves slowly on my throat.
I close my eyes. “I’ve waited for that.”
He smiles as his forehead stays against mine. “I know.”
When I open my eyes again and pull back, he’s looking at me with something unguarded enough that it makes my chest ache.
Behind him, Cami makes the smallest sound.
Not a laugh.
Not quite.
Ronan and I both remember the rest of the room at the same time.
Griffin still has one arm around Cami.
She is looking between us with both hands pressed over her mouth.
Her eyes are suspiciously bright.
“Oh my God,” she whispers.
I feel heat climb my neck.
Griffin is grinning.
It’s not teasing. It’s genuinely happy.
“You two done making the rest of us look emotionally repressed?” he asks.
“No,” Ronan answers.
Then he looks at me.
The question this time is different.
I smile. “Good.”
He kisses me again.
It’s shorter, still deep enough to make my stomach drop.
This time I don’t wait for permission.
My hand goes straight to his waist.
Ronan leans into it.
When we separate, Cami is openly crying.
“Seriously?” I ask her
“Shut up.”
Griffin wipes beneath one of her eyes with his thumb. “You knew this was coming.”
“I know. That’s why I’m emotional.”
Ronan looks at her for a moment, then steps forward and reaches across the space between us.
Cami leans toward him automatically.
He cups her cheek and kisses her softly.
When he pulls away, she smiles at him in a way that makes something warm settle through the center of the room.
I reach for her next.
She turns toward me, and I press a kiss to her temple before she catches my shirt and pulls me back enough to kiss my mouth too.
Soft.
Brief.
Griffin doesn’t react beyond rubbing his hand down her arm.
The moment doesn’t feel like Cami inserting herself between Ronan and me or us inserting ourselves between them.
It feels like the opposite.
Like we all chose each other and that choice didn’t require anyone stepping away from anyone else.
All four of our phones light up at almost exactly the same time.
Cami laughs. “That has to be Dex.”
It is.
Dex
HAPPY NEW YEAR BITCHES
I LOVE YOU
THIS BAR IS HELL
There’s a moment then:
Dex
someone please kiss somebody hot for me
I stare at the screen.
Ronan reads it over my shoulder.
Cami starts laughing so hard she folds into Griffin.
I type back.
Micah
Handled
Ronan makes a quiet, amused sound beside me.
Three dots appear immediately.
Then stop.
Then appear again.
Dex
EXCUSE ME
Griffin laughs.
Cami reaches for my phone.
“No. Absolutely not. He’ll call.”
My phone starts ringing.
I see his name and decline it immediately.
Dex
RUDE
The room dissolves into laughter.
Something inside me loosens with it.
The intensity breaks, but not the thing underneath it.
I quietly text Dex that I will talk to him when he gets home and to focus on the bar. He replies with an angel emoji.
Outside, fireworks continue going off across the neighborhood, bright flashes reflecting against the windows.
Cami settles back into Griffin.
I sit beside Ronan.
Nothing about the room looks dramatically different than it did ten minutes ago.
Same couch.
Same half-empty champagne glasses.
But the space between Ronan and me is gone.
His hand rests between us on the cushion.
I place mine there, too. Palm up.
Ronan looks down.
Then he threads his fingers through mine.
No hesitation.
I look at our hands for longer than necessary.
I’ve spent months waiting for him to decide what he wanted.
Tonight he did.
And I don’t need to know what comes next.
I just need to hold on.