Chapter 21Eden
21
Eden
E den was woman enough to admit that maybe she had gone too far. As Ronan's shirt hung over her face, she couldn't help but inhale the scent of him—spicy, fresh, and a little too tempting. It was like a shot of something heady and addictive, making her momentarily lose focus. She pulled the T-shirt off her head with a quick tug, her eyes instinctively finding Ronan, who was now half-undressed.
His chest wasn’t overly muscular, but it was solid and well-defined, like each part of him had purpose. She couldn’t help but notice how strong his arms looked—those biceps, the way his shoulders tapered down—like he could do some serious damage if he wanted to. The whole thing made her heart beat a little faster, a strange pull in her chest as she caught herself staring longer than she meant to.
What really caught Eden off guard was how effortlessly confident he seemed. It wasn’t the cocky, look-at-me kind of confidence; it was more like he knew exactly who he was, and he was comfortable with it. The way he took care of himself was clearly for his own benefit, not to impress anyone. And, well, she was definitely appreciating the results.
In all honesty, his devastatingly good looks posed a direct challenge to her self-control, but she couldn't really blame anyone but herself for that.
"Write a song about it... it'll last longer," Ronan teased, giving her a sly smirk. That's when Eden realized she’d been staring at him, and she quickly snapped her mouth shut. Her face felt like it was on fire, and she tried to hide her blush as best as she could.
God, was she actually drooling? Jesus, maybe Ingrid was right about her salivating . She couldn't even think of a sassy coming back because her lizard brain was in a full-blown misfire, and all her wires were crossed.
"Ronan, can you lay back and put your arm down?" Gordon asked, getting Ronan in position for the tattoo. Eden felt a bit of relief—thankfully, Gordon was taking over, because she was dangerously close to letting out a mating call.
Gordon carefully placed the stencil on Ronan’s tricep, right under the muscle. Ronan gave a nod, signaling it was good, and Gordon flipped the tattoo machine on.
"You need my hand, Murphy? Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the mean needle," Eden teased, unable to help herself from doubling down.
"Percy, you’ll do anything to touch me, won’t you?" Ronan shot back, raising an eyebrow. "First, making me take off my shirt. What's next?"
"Pants, duh," Eden replied casually, the room suddenly thick with tension. Had she crossed a line? Was she pushing her luck with her teasing?
"First tattoo?" Gordon asked, completely oblivious to the charged energy in the room. Meanwhile, as Gordon placed the needle on Ronan’s skin, Ronan didn’t even flinch—his eyes stayed locked on Eden, a silent challenge hanging between them.
"Are you gonna hold my hand, Devil?" Ronan asked, a gleam in his eyes. Eden rolled her eyes, but the smile that tugged at her lips gave her away. Her stomach did a little flip as she laced her fingers through his right hand, enjoying the warmth of his skin against hers.
"Yeah, it's my first tattoo," Ronan added, his voice a little lighter now.
"Any special meaning?" Gordon asked, continuing his work on Ronan's arm.
"It's for my Gran," Ronan said, his voice softening. "She loved sparrows. Reminded her of Ireland, and they were all about good luck and hope for her. She had these ceramic sparrows all over the house, convinced they'd protect us. She nearly throttled Sadie when she broke one when we were kids," Ronan added, a hint of fondness in his tone.
Eden’s heart warmed at the story. It was clear that Ronan had a deep connection with his family. She watched as Gordon’s needle moved smoothly over his skin, the low hum of the machine mixing with the soft rock playing in the background. Ronan's face was calm, but Eden could see the emotions flickering in his eyes—nostalgia, love, and maybe a bit of longing.
"That’s beautiful, Ronan," Eden whispered, squeezing his hand. She felt a lump in her throat, touched by the significance of the tattoo and the story behind it.
Eden couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy as she thought about her complicated relationship with her biological family. She knew she would never have a bond like that with them. For a moment, it stung—a sharp reminder of what she lacked. But then her thoughts shifted to Ingrid, the person who had stood by her side through thick and thin. Ingrid was her found family, the one who had truly understood her and accepted her for who she was. That bond, something they chose every day, felt even more special. The thought eased the knot in her stomach. It was more than enough for her.
As Gordon continued to work, Eden maintained her hold on Ronan's hand. He was right; she would use any excuse to touch him, taking any opportunity to feel the warmth of his hand in hers. It felt right, her hand in his. She glanced at their intertwined fingers, feeling a rush of emotions. Each squeeze, each subtle shift of his grip, sent a thrill through her. However risky, it was something she wasn't willing to let go of.
A few minutes later, Gordon finished Ronan’s tattoo. He wiped the excess ink from Ronan's arm, revealing the finished artwork. Eden's eyes followed every detail of the tattoo as if committing it to memory. It was a simple yet powerful design, and it suited Ronan perfectly. Ronan examined it closely with the handheld mirror, a faint smile gracing his lips.
"It's great. Thank you, Gordon," Ronan said sincerely, extending his hand to shake Gordon's. Gordon beamed with pride, accepting Ronan's handshake. Then Ronan pulled his shirt back on, much to her dismay.
After a quick photo session for Gordon’s tattoo shop’s Instagram, he gave them the rundown on how to take care of their tattoos. Once the payment was settled, she surprised him with a big hug, which seemed to catch Gordon off guard for a second. As she pulled away, she gave him a playful wink, leaving him standing there with wide eyes.
As they stepped out onto the sidewalk, Eden turned to Ronan with a grin.
"Your first tattoo. Hmm, not so clean-cut anymore," Eden said as she looked up at him, her eyes meeting his.
"I feel like I am corrupting you, Murphy," she added playfully. She couldn't resist running her fingers along the edge of the longboard he held, a teasing glint in her eyes as her fingertips brushed his knuckles.
"Oh honey, I'll be the one corrupting you if I have my way," he responded in a low, husky tone that sent shivers down her spine. There was something in his tone—raw, intense—that made her heart race. It sent a hot pulse to her lower belly.
Before she could react, he grabbed her hand, halting her teasing touch on the board. His face shifted, the playfulness replaced with something darker. He placed the longboard down with a sharp slap on the concrete.
“Grab on before I do something we both might regret,” he said, voice husky. His grip tightened around her hand, a promise hanging in the air. Eden caught the look in his eyes—serious, focused.
She slid her hand to his shoulder, ready to be pulled along.
As they moved together, the cool night air brushed against her skin, and she couldn’t help but feel the rush between them. It was like a high, this feeling of pushing limits, and she was starting to struggle with how much she could keep in check. Her mind was racing, thinking about everything she’d said, everything she’d done.
Every day, she woke up determined to tease him, to keep their back-and-forth going. She knew he liked it too, but something was holding him back. She couldn’t figure it out, and she didn’t want to push him too far, especially if it meant crossing a line they couldn’t come back from.
So, when they reached the car, she let Ronan take the lead in the quiet, their footsteps syncing without a word. Instead of saying anything else, she started the engine and switched on the radio, letting the music fill the space between them.