Chapter 14
ANGEL
There’s nothing to worry about.
Ronan said it. So did Enzo. Even Sage reassured me, promising to make sure the school resource officer stayed at the elementary school all day, just to be safe.
Logically, I know Haley’s fine. With all the security Ronan and his team arranged for her, she’s probably safer at school than anywhere else.
And it’s better for her, really, to keep to her regular routine, rather than have her bouncing around Ronan’s house, peppering me with questions I can’t answer.
Questions like when the alleged leak in the basement will be fixed. When we’ll be able to go home. Why I’m not going to work today, like I usually do. If we’re staying at Ronan’s for good, just like her friend, Cala, did when she and her mom moved in with her mom’s boyfriend.
Plus, the Christmas performance is coming up—a modernized version of A Christmas Carol but with cute animals instead of ghosts—and Haley has one of the starring roles. Rehearsals are right after school, and according to Haley, they’re very important.
Of course the drama club advisor would understand if I explained why Haley couldn’t go. But Haley’s just so excited about it, and I don’t want to ruin it for her.
Besides, Ronan promised she’d be safe.
And despite what happened the other night at the Winter Wonderland Walk, I still trust him. Now that I know what happened in his past, it makes sense why he reacted the way he did.
Does that make it okay? No.
Will I forgive him as readily if he does it again? Absolutely not.
I could be wrong. I could forgive Ronan and it could all blow up in my face, hurting Haley in the process. He could get jealous again. He could lie.
But when I think about how he opened up and told me about something that hurt him deeply, how sincere he was in his apology, how earnest he was when he asked for another chance… My heart tells me he won’t do it again.
I’m still going to be cautious because I have Haley to think about. If it were just me, that would be different. A betrayal might hurt, but I could handle it. But Haley’s already been deserted by one man. I don’t want it to happen again.
Except, do I really think Ronan would do that?
When he’s done so much for Haley already?
When I see the affection in his eyes whenever he looks at her?
The pride when she accomplishes something?
And he’s just so good with her. He never gets annoyed by her silly jokes and non-stop chatter.
When she has an idea, whether it’s building mini Mount Nilsson or having a marathon board game playing session, he’s all in.
And I don’t think it’s because he’s trying to impress me.
I think he truly enjoys spending time with her.
But that would make sense, wouldn’t it? I didn’t realize until I heard Ronan’s story that he actually wanted kids. That he thought he was going to be a father and was thrilled about it. That he was heartbroken when it was taken away from him.
God. How terrible must that have been?
Just as it has every time I think about it, a lump comes to my throat.
The woman he married. Trusted. Cared deeply for. And she told him one of the worst lies I can think of. Not just that, but she told him he wasn’t enough. Ronan. One of the bravest and most generous men I’ve ever met. And she said he wasn’t enough for her.
If I ever meet that terrible Gwen, I’ve got some choice words for her—words I’d never want Haley hearing me say.
At the thought of it, anger surges, and I scrub the kitchen sink harder.
I scowl at a tiny fleck of dried food as I rub at it, feeling irrationally irritated that it won’t come right off.
Pausing, I give the spot another spray of cleaner, then attack it with a vengeance.
But the stupid thing could be super glue, for all I’m trying.
“You don’t have to clean.”
Startling at the sudden sound, I yelp in surprise. The bottle of cleaning spray slips from my hand. I watch it fall, in one of those moments that seems to happen in slow motion, and it hits the floor just at the wrong angle, snapping the top off and dumping cleaner all over the ceramic tile.
“Shit!” I mutter. A beat later, I correct myself out of instinct. “Darn. I mean darn.”
“Angel.” Ronan hurries across the kitchen to me. His features are creased in apology. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s fine.” I grab a handful of paper towels and crouch down to clean up my mess.
“I just thought you were still in your office. And Murphy’s asleep.
” I angle my head at Murphy curled up in his dog bed.
Except now he’s watching us with interest, presumably awakened by the sound of the bottle hitting the floor.
“Or he was,” I amend. “So I wasn’t expecting to hear anything. ”
Ronan kneels beside me and takes the wad of paper towels from my hand. “Let me do it.”
“I made the mess,” I insist.
“Because I startled you.” He looks at me with a worried expression. “I really am sorry. I didn’t think.”
One thing I don’t want is Ronan feeling like he has to apologize about everything to make things up to me.
“Don’t be sorry because you were talking in your own house.
That’s silly.” I scoop up the now-empty bottle of cleanser and give the broken nozzle a sour glance.
“I dumped cleaning product all over your floor. And I broke the bottle. So really, I’m the one who should be sorry. ”
Ronan gives the floor a final wipe. “The floor needed to be cleaned anyway.” Then he stands and holds out his hand to help me up. Once we’re both standing, he takes both the bottle and the paper towels and heads over to the garbage bin to throw them away.
I turn back to the sink and quickly wash my hands. Unable to resist it, I scratch at the stupid bit of food still clinging inside.
“It looks clean to me,” Ronan says as he joins me. “And you don’t need to clean while you’re here. You should be relaxing instead.”
I barely stifle a snort. Relaxing? After my house was broken into? After a bag of drugs was found in my bedroom? With my life in chaos and no idea when it’ll get back to normal?
But instead of saying all that, I just point at the spot in the sink. “There. It won’t come off. I don’t know if it’s made from some industrial-strength glue or something.”
Ronan leans in to look. “Oh, that. I can barely even see it.” Then he grabs the sponge, flips it over to the scrubby side, and gives the spot a quick rub. “See? It’s gone.”
“What?” I stare into the sink. “I was scrubbing at that for ages. How did you—”
“Muscles,” he says with a grin. He turns away from the sink and flexes his arm. His biceps pop. A vein bulges where it peeks out from beneath his T-shirt. And shoot. I never much thought about the veins on a man’s arm before. But now that I’m looking, it’s actually quite sexy.
Stubborn spots fade into unimportance as my gaze travels across Ronan’s arm.
Not that I haven’t seen his bare arm before, but there’s just something about it right now.
Maybe it’s the late-morning sun catching the dusting of hair, turning it from brown to gold.
Maybe it’s the play of shadows on the muscles of his forearm.
Maybe it’s the strength I felt when he held me, right there, on display.
Realizing I’ve been blatantly staring at Ronan’s arm instead of talking to him like a normal person, I jerk my gaze up to his. He’s not grinning anymore. His smile is more speculative. Desire flares in his eyes.
Something hot and needy comes to life inside me. My lungs squeeze. My core clenches.
For a moment, all my worries tumble away like dandelion seeds on the wind. It’s just me and Ronan. Alone. With nothing keeping us from doing the things I haven’t dared when Haley’s around.
From there, my imagination takes flight.
In my mind’s eye, I see us doing all the things I’ve fantasized about.
First, he drags me into his arms and kisses me. One hand comes to the back of my head, tipping it back as our kiss grows deeper. Hungrier.
His other hand comes to the small of my back, tugging me flush to his body. I can feel his erection jutting hard against my belly. My breasts feel full. Heavy. My nipples are almost unbearably sensitive, sending zips of electricity through my body every time they brush against Ronan’s chest.
When we finally break apart, both breathing hard, Ronan cups my cheek, his touch gentle like he’s handling the most fragile crystal. The gold flecks in his eyes are like fire as he looks at me. His features are hard and taut with need.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs. “So damn beautiful.” Then he kisses me again.
This time as he kisses me, he walks me backwards to the island.
When we reach it, he lifts me onto the counter and spreads my legs so he can step between them.
“So beautiful,” he repeats as he carefully lays me back.
His gaze burns into me as he drags his hand down my chest and stomach.
Then he puts his hand between my legs and keeps it there while my core aches desperately for him.
It needs him inside me. Filling me. Completing me in a way I’ve never felt before.
“Do you want this?” Ronan asks roughly. His gaze is dark. Intense. “Do you want me to touch you?”
“Yes,” I breathe. “I want you to touch me.”
“Where?” he asks. “Here?” He rubs between my legs. “Or here?” His other hand comes to my breast. “Or here?” He kisses me. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.”
“All of it.” My hips jerk towards him of their own accord. “I want you to touch me everywhere.”
“Okay.” Ronan’s lips curve into a satisfied smile. “I can do that.” Then he begins to unzip my pants, and—
“Angel? Are you okay?”
At Ronan’s question, my fantasy bursts, and I’m dropped back into reality.