Chapter 16
ANGEL
“I could get used to waking up like this.”
Ronan strokes his hand down my back, setting off delicious tingles in its wake. He hugs me closer and drapes a leg over mine. His lips come to the top of my head, and I can feel him smiling as he adds, “The only problem is I’d never want to get out of bed.”
I snuggle into his furnace-like warmth and press a kiss to his stubbly jaw. “That sounds pretty good to me right now.” Wriggling slightly to free my arm from between us, I comb my fingers through his tousled hair. “I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be.”
“Cupcake.” Ronan kisses me. “I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be, either.”
My heart squeezes.
Contentment blossoms inside me.
This really is perfect.
From waking up in Ronan’s embrace, knowing I’m safer there than anyplace else in the world, to our second round of lovemaking—I’m calling it that in my head, even though neither of us have said the L-word yet—and now lying here, enjoying this quiet time together.
For the next couple of hours, we have nowhere else to go. No other obligations. No threat of danger lurking. We can just be.
Ronan’s hand moves to the back of my neck and massages it gently. “Should I get the oil out? I think we still have some left over from last night.”
“That’s okay.” Tilting my head back, I meet his gaze. For a moment, my breath catches.
There’s this look in his eyes. It’s soft and deep and filled with emotions I can’t put words to. But it’s more than friendship. More than affection. It gives me hope that he might feel the same way I do.
I haven’t told Ronan I love him yet. It hasn’t seemed like the right time. But in my heart, I know.
I love him. I think I started falling from the day he offered to help build mini Mount Nilsson. And despite the bumps in the road since then, it hasn’t changed how I feel.
Ronan’s not perfect. Neither am I. But together, we balance each other out. We fit each other. He shoulders my worries. Reassures me. He makes me feel special.
And I think—I hope—I give him something, too. Ronan doesn’t need to change for me. I’d never say he isn’t enough. And I would never, ever lie to him like that awful Gwen.
It’s still early. I keep reminding myself of that. I need to be cautious and take things slow, because it’s not just my heart on the line, but Haley’s, too.
When I find myself fantasizing about sparkling rings and white gowns and my stomach swelling with new life, I remind myself—there’s no rush. Things will happen if and when they’re meant to.
But I can see it so clearly.
Me. Haley. Ronan. Murphy. And maybe, one day, another child to add to our family.
We could fix up my place and live here. Or Ronan could take the most important parts—the piece of the doorframe with Haley’s measurements, the section of railing Haley and I etched our names into, maybe even the little door to Haley’s closet nook—and make them a part of his house, instead.
We would take trips together. Spend weekends skiing. Summer would be hikes and Little League and barbecues out back with all our friends.
I can picture Ronan as his hair turns silver and the lines in his face grow deeper. I can imagine him insisting I’m beautiful, no matter how old I am.
And I can see him being a great dad to Haley. Supporting her. Cheering her on when she graduates. Walking her down the aisle when she eventually gets married. Teaching her what a real man is, and that she doesn’t deserve anything less.
But there’s no rush. I just need to keep reminding myself of it.
If Ronan and I are meant to be, it’ll happen when the time is right.
“No?” Ronan asks with a teasing smile. “Are you saying my massage skills are lacking?”
“Of course not,” I reply quickly. “Trust me. Your skills as a masseuse are excellent. But I’m just enjoying this.”
His expression softens. “So am I.” Then he kisses me. “Waking up with you snuggled in my arms…” His lips come to mine again. “It was amazing.”
I trail my fingers through his hair. “What about last night? Was that amazing, too?”
He shoots me an are you kidding me look. “Do you even have to ask? Last night was…” His brow wrinkles. “Amazing isn’t a strong enough word. Incredible? Unforgettable? Sublime?”
“Sublime?” I giggle. “Really?”
He traces his finger down the line of my jaw. “Absolutely. Being with you was beyond anything I could have imagined.”
Joy fizzes up until I’m breathless from it. “I feel the same way.”
We both fall silent after that. But it’s not an awkward silence. It’s a comfortable one, like we don’t need to talk to understand how the other is feeling.
I let my gaze roam across him, appreciating the play of light and shadow on his muscles as the early morning sun hits them. Though the curtains are shut, I didn’t think to close the blinds last night, so the room is filled with a warm, golden glow.
While I’m looking at him, Ronan gently trails his finger across my face, almost like he’s memorizing each line and curve of it.
I’m not sure how much time passes while we just lie here, luxuriating in each other.
Long enough for the room to brighten. Enough for my stomach to wake up and start rumbling.
Long enough to be able to see the sprinkling of freckles that dust Ronan’s nose; or, as he describes them, a gift from his Irish ancestry.
But when my stomach decides to make its hunger known with a loud grumble, Ronan’s eyes widen. Then he reaches between us and splays his hand over my belly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hungry?”
“I wasn’t before,” I reply. “My stomach just woke up and started talking.”
“Started talking?” He smiles. “Is that something you told Haley?”
“I used to. When she was—I don’t know, three or four?
—she got it into her head that there was a monster in her belly.
And that’s why it was making noises. So I explained that it was her stomach talking to her.
It would say things like, Good morning, Haley.
I’m hungry for oatmeal with strawberries today. Or it really wanted pancakes.”
Ronan chuckles. “I like that.”
“Except I didn’t really think it through in the long term.
When she got older, she’d try to use it to get what she wanted.
” Pitching my voice up to imitate Haley, I continue, “Mom. My stomach says it needs chocolate chip cookies. With ice cream. And syrup. Can’t you hear it?
I don’t think it’ll let me go to sleep until I get some. ”
“And did you listen to what the stomach said?” he asks with a smile. “Or did you say that the message got mixed up in translation?”
“Both,” I reply with a laugh. “But she doesn’t try that anymore. Now she just comes out and asks for what she wants.”
My stomach rumbles again, and Ronan gives it a little rub. “And what’s your stomach saying?”
I crane my head to look at the clock on the bedside table. It’s seven AM, which means I still have three and a half hours before I need to leave for work. “It’s saying it needs some sustenance after last night. And this morning.”
A satisfied gleam comes to Ronan’s eyes. “Are you saying I gave you a workout?”
“I’m saying we both got a workout,” I retort. Then I smile. “How about if I make us breakfast? I’ve got eggs, bacon, plus I bought ingredients to make cinnamon roll pancakes. Oh, and some fresh fruit to be healthy.”
Ronan stares at me for a moment before kissing the tip of my nose. “That sounds great, Angel. But I have a couple of suggestions.”
“Would you prefer regular pancakes? I can do omelettes, if you’d like. Or if you want something lighter—”
“What you suggested sounded amazing,” he interrupts.
“But I was thinking I could help you cook. So you don’t have to do it all yourself.
And then we could eat in bed. And maybe after…
” His hand moves between my legs; his fingers trailing along the still-sensitive skin there.
“We could go for round three. If you’re not too sore. ”
My core clenches. My belly quivers. “I’m not too sore. And I think that’s a great idea.”
It’s hard to get my mind back to more practical things.
While I was washing my hair, I drifted off into another fantasy—one where Ronan and I were in the shower together and he had me pressed against the wall while he drove into me in powerful thrusts.
Then, while I was tidying the kitchen, memories of cooking with Ronan distracted me. I could almost feel his hand grazing my butt as he walked by and the jut of his erection as he stood behind me.
For the last fifteen minutes, I’ve been attempting to clean the house. But I keep thinking about Ronan and how incredible our night was.
Not just last night, but this morning, too. Cuddling in bed, cooking, and then the promised third time, which was just as good as the two before.
It was by far the best date I’ve ever had. And I can’t wait to have another.
I won’t ask Hazel to take Haley again soon, even though I know Hazel and Alec wouldn’t mind. But I don’t want to take advantage of them. Or for Haley to feel like I’m trying to push her off so I can spend time alone with Ronan.
But maybe after Christmas…
Maybe once the bustle of the holidays is over, I can arrange for another sleepover.
Maybe I could even ask Hazel to take Haley for the entire weekend, and Ronan and I could take a short trip together.
Stay at a sweet little bed and breakfast up north, with a soaking tub and a fireplace and room service, or head to New York to visit some of Ronan’s friends.
Although the bed and breakfast might be too expensive—the kind I’m thinking about, at least. I know Ronan’s not hurting for money—he told me saved a lot from the Army, and he gets paid decently at Stowe—but I don’t want to suggest things I can’t contribute to, either.
And after Christmas, my budget is going to be extra tight.
Anyway, there’s nothing wrong with staying at home. I could cook something special, we could do massages again, watch a movie, have more sex…