Sunday, April 2nd #5
“Tori and Vada always told me to just talk to you, that it was okay to ruffle your feathers once in a while, but I was so scared of it turning out bad. I know now that arguing doesn’t mean it’s the end.
I get that. I do. Just like you have to get that feeling big things, being angry, doesn’t make you dangerous.
I mean, you have every right to be angry—at the whole damn world!
That doesn’t mean you’ll turn into a monster. ”
I move my hand to his cheek, giving in to my need to touch him, to feel his skin against mine.
“I guess, in a way, we both still have some healing to do.”
He nods. “I guess we do.”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “So… what do we do now? Now that we know how fucked up we still are?”
He draws in a deep breath, voice rough. “That’s up to you.
I told you yesterday, my job was to tell you the truth.
The rest… that’s yours,” he says. “I’m not here to beg you to take me back.
Do I wish you would? Abso-fucking-lutely.
But it has to be your decision. It has to be what you want, Cat.
Because here’s the thing, I still don’t want kids.
And I don’t know that I ever will, that I’ll ever trust myself enough.
And I know I messed up. I don’t expect you to forgive me.
I don’t expect you to adjust your life around me.
I don’t expect you to trust me again. Not after…
not after keeping so much from you. Not after sleeping with Randi.
If I’ve learned anything in my life, it’s that my actions have consequences.
All I can do now is try to make it up to you. ”
I start to speak, but he lifts a hand, his index finger brushing gently against my lips.
“Before you answer,” he says, eyes filled with quiet resolve, “I need you to know one more thing.”
I still.
“I’ve been yours, Cat. This whole time. Even over the last few months. Even on Friday. Even when I was with Randi.” He says it with weight, with meaning. “I’ve been yours. And if you’ll let me, I’ll be yours until my last damn breath. All yours. All in. All the time.”
A breath. A heartbeat.
That’s all it takes for me to fling myself into Ronan’s arms and cling to him like it could somehow make up for the sixty-three days I had to live without him.
“And I’m yours, Ran,” I manage to choke out. “I love you.”
Yes, we have work to do. Both of us. And I’m sure we’ll fall short sometimes. After all, it took a lifetime to build the walls, to harden into these habits, these patterns of silence and fear and self-protection.
But for once, we’re not standing on opposite sides of those walls. This time, we’re choosing to tear them down. Together.
Ronan takes a minuscule step back from me, his face serious, eyes searching mine like he doesn’t quite trust the peace. “Wait… so… you’ll… you’ll take me back?”
I nod, a slow smile curving my lips. “Yeah. Unless you don’t want me to,” I tease gently.
He scoffs. “Fuck, Cat, there’s nothing I want more than this. I guess… I mean, I don’t want to jinx myself, but I honestly didn’t think you’d let me off the hook this quickly.”
“What, like you expected punishment?” I say, grinning. Then I freeze, my hand flying to my mouth. That joke was in bad taste considering Ronan’s past.
But he nods. “Yeah, actually, I kind of did.” He seems completely nonplussed by my dumb comment. “But then again, I should’ve known better—you don’t have a mean bone in your perfect body, baby.”
“That’s what you think.”
Before I can stop myself, before I even think better of it, I lunge forward and shove him. I put every ounce of strength into moving his solidly muscled body. He topples off the dock, disappearing into the lake with a satisfying splash.
The second my hands leave his chest, I regret it. It’s early April; the temperature’s barely cracking the mid-fifties. That water has to be freezing. And deep, judging by how long it takes for Ronan’s head to reemerge.
The water makes his hair and skin glisten. “Holy fuck, that’s cold,” he sputters, teeth chattering as he swims to the edge of the dock. “I take back what I said about you not having a mean streak. Fuck.”
He reaches for the ledge and tries to hoist himself out, but his hands slip off the planks. His muscles must be seizing from the cold, and his waterlogged clothes probably add thirty pounds of drag.
“Oh god, Ran, I’m so sorry.” I drop to all fours, reaching out to him. “I don’t know what came over me. That was so messed up.”
He grabs my hand—shivering more violently still, his skin already icy—and I try to pull him up.
But there’s resistance. My eyes dart to his, and that’s when I see it. That gleam in his eyes. The ghost of a smirk on his lips. Before I can react, he yanks me forward. I let out a yelp and plunge straight into the lake beside him.
I surface with a gasp, hair plastered to my face, my mouth full of lake water.
“O-ohh m-my g-god.” I’m shivering so hard, my teeth sound like a jackhammer. “T-this is e-even w-worse than I th-thought.”
“Yeah,” he chuffs, grabbing onto the dock again. I grimace at how easily he pulls himself up and out. He totally faked it before. I should’ve known. I’ve seen him do countless pull-ups in the damn gym with a forty-five-pound plate strapped to his waist with a chain.
He drops to his knees and hoists me out of the water like I weigh nothing, like I’m made of air and feathers. We stand there, arms wrapped around ourselves in a sad attempt to retain whatever body heat we have left.
“W-what d-did you d-do th-that f-f-for?” I stammer, teeth chattering.
He grins, though his lips are already suspiciously blue. “You deserved to be punished, too,” he says, his entire body shaking. “I wasn’t the only one who strayed.”
Fair point. Plus, I shoved him in first. What do they always say—don’t dish it out if you can’t take it?
“Y-yeah, o-okay. I g-guess I d-did.” I’m so cold, it hurts.
“Come here.” He tugs me toward him, then begins to pull off my jacket.
“What are you doing?”
“We need to get out of these clothes or we’ll become hypothermic.” He shrugs off his own jacket with effort, then peels off his hoodie and t-shirt like a second skin.
Even though I’m freezing and shaking, the sight of Ronan undressing—muscles taut, skin slick and covered in goosebumps—sends heat straight through me. He pauses, raising his eyebrows with a breathless chuckle. “You, too.”
I drag my eyes away as he starts unbuttoning his jeans. I can't let myself get hypnotized while my body temp plummets. I work myself out of my clothes until I’m down to just my underwear.
“Now what?” I ask, shifting my weight from foot to foot.
Ronan’s gaze sweeps over me, slow and hungry, a grin curling his lips. His tongue skims across his bottom lip when his eyes settle on my chest. I don’t need to look down to know my nipples are stiff beneath the thin fabric of my bra.
I raise my brows, smiling. “Was this your plan all along?”
“Hey, you pushed me in first. But I’m definitely not complaining about where this has led us so far.” He grins, collecting our soaked clothes. “Come on, let’s get in the truck.”
It’s not much warmer inside, but as soon as Ronan slides into the driver’s seat and tosses the clothes in the back, he reaches behind the seat and pulls out a blanket. I sigh when he drapes it over me.
“Thank you.” The words come out as a breathy moan, and his grin widens as he turns the key in the ignition. He turns the heat to high.
“God damn it, it’s fucking cold,” he mutters, holding his hands to the vent. It blasts nothing but arctic air. It'll be a few minutes before the engine warms up enough to do any good.
He shifts toward me. “You know what really helps in these situations?”
“What’s that?” I breathe, though I already know. It’s written all over his face.
The smile is gone. In its place is something raw and hungry, like he’s starving and I’m the only thing he’s ever wanted to taste.
“Body heat,” he murmurs, voice low and rough.
And then I’m on the other side of the center console, in his lap, straddling his hips, grinding against him. There’s no word, no signal, no decision. It’s just instinct.
His mouth crashes into mine, desperate, feral. No hesitation. Just need. Our teeth clash, tongues tangle.
He unhooks my bra, slips the straps off my shoulders, then moves his tongue to my nipple—pebbled with cold and lust—and draws it deep into his warm mouth. My skin is already so sensitive, and the contrast between the icy air and his hot mouth threatens to take me over the edge right now.
I moan and let my head fall back, bowing toward him, my body already aching, already begging.
And god, he’s hard. So hard. I roll my hips, seeking friction against my tender, throbbing clit. He groans as his hands find my waist, my hips, my ass, like he can’t touch enough of me fast enough.
The cabin is cramped, but somehow, Ronan shifts me back a few inches, my spine grazing the cold steering wheel. I barely register it. He spreads his legs, coaxing mine apart, until I open to him completely.
His green eyes are glossy, pupils blown wide with need when he glides his hand between my thighs. He pushes my lace panties aside, then drags a finger softly across my slick, aching flesh.
Breathy moans tumble from my lips as he does it again. And again. Then his finger dips lower and slides inside me.
“Ran,” I gasp, my muscles clenching around him. I need more. Deeper, harder, now.
He releases a sound that’s somewhere between a sigh and a growl.
“Fuck, baby,” he breathes, sliding his finger out of me.
“You’re already so wet for me.” And then, watching me the entire time, he lifts that hand to his mouth and licks his finger clean, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring the last bite of dessert.
My whole body pulses in response, heat coiling in my core. The ache between my legs demands release.
“Ran,” I breathe. “If I don’t get to have you right now, I might actually die.”