Chapter 24Eden
24
Eden
E den packed light, just a small carry-on suitcase. The limited trunk space in her convertible meant leaving behind her fun shoes and quirky outfits. Still, she managed to squeeze in her favorite silk slip dress—just in case. Something told her she might need the confidence boost of a slinky dress on this trip. Meanwhile, Ronan somehow fit all his clothes into his usual equipment backpack, which she found both baffling and mildly irritating.
“Ready to hit the road?” Ronan asked, his backpack slung casually over one shoulder. Eden trailed behind, dragging her bright pink suitcase. His eyebrows lifted slightly at the sight of it, but instead of commenting, he grabbed a hot pink helmet from the couch and held it up with an expectant grin.
“I was thinking I could drive the motorcycle. Ever been on one? It’s fun.” He flashed a hopeful smile, all white teeth and boyish charm.
Did anyone have the right to be that cute? The answer was no. It was unlawful. Jail. Someone should arrest him for excessive adorability.
"Of course, I have been on a motorcycle. What kind of rebellious teen would I have been if I didn't?" Eden retorted with a smirk while Ronan chuckled.
"I wouldn't expect anything less from you," he replied with a grin, his eyes sweeping over her hot pink suitcase. "But if we're going with the motorcycle, you might want to downsize your packing a bit," he suggested.
Eden nodded, promptly unzipping her suitcase and rummaging through it. She plucked out a few essentials and tossed them into her purse.
"Good idea. Besides, I think I have some spare clothes at Quentin's place anyway," she added with a shrug.
"Quentin?" Ronan repeated slowly, his words measured, each syllable carefully enunciated.
"Yeah, you know, that actor who flies around in spandex for millions of people every few years?" Eden replied casually. She hastily tried to stuff some stray underwear back into the suitcase as she continued, "He lets me use his place whenever I visit Tahoe."
Ronan's lips pressed together tightly, and his posture noticeably tensed as he absorbed this new piece of information.
"Not a fan of superhero movies? Me neither," Eden commented as she zipped up the half-empty suitcase. "I find them to be unrealistic. I mean, who's both hot and has crazy superpowers? It seems so unfair for the rest of us normies."
Ronan mumbled a response, his gaze fixed on the floor beside her suitcase. "Like you're one to talk."
"What does that mean?" Eden furrowed her brows in confusion.
"Come on, Eden," Ronan began, his voice deathly serious, devoid of any humor. "You're stunningly gorgeous, funny, and insanely talented. How is that fair to everyone else in the universe?" He glanced at her, his expression still serious.
"Sorry, I bet Quentin probably doesn't like me talking like that." His face seemed to flash with some elusive emotion, and his eyes narrowed slightly. Eden was genuinely shocked for a moment, but then a wave of laughter erupted from her. It caused her to lose balance from her squatting position and tumble to the floor. She looked up at him from her seat on the floor. Ronan's eyebrows furrowed, and a frown graced his features.
"Wait, are you serious? Quentin?" Eden's voice wavered with surprise.
"I saw that TMZ article with you two on a breakfast date from two weeks ago." The revelation hit her like a freight train.
Oh. oh . She had totally forgotten about that harebrained scheme. It was just another consequence of her ill-judged decisions. Sloane would be waving her "I told you so" flag, and she could almost hear her lecture about the repercussions of her actions. She quickly stood up from the floor, her mind racing as she tried to figure out how to explain herself to Ronan.
"That was to distract everyone from "Push-gate. Quentin is my friend; he has only ever been my friend." Tension seemed to unravel from his muscles from her confession. His shoulders dropped slightly, and his jaw relaxed imperceptibly. The look of displeasure that had clouded his face vanished, replaced by a microscopic smile as his lips curled subtly. The change in him was slight, but to her, it was unmistakable.
He had been jealous . Eden's eyes widened at this realization, and then a small smile of her own crept onto her lips.
“Haven’t I taught you anything? You can’t believe everything you read,” Eden said softly, her fingers lightly brushing his shoulder. She couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles tensed under her touch or the subtle clench of his jaw.
She snagged the helmet from his hand and sauntered away, making sure to sway her hips. A smile danced on her lips as she could sense Ronan's footsteps trailing behind her.
He was jealous. Ronan Murphy, a distinguished journalist, was a green-eyed monster. Her stomach was somersaulting, and glee bounced in her chest like a ping-pong ball. Jealous. She could work with jealousy. Now, this could be fun.
As she heard his footsteps approach, she felt him gently yet firmly hold her wrist. Slowly, she turned around to face him.
He traced his hand languidly from her wrist, moving slowly up her arm and finally settling on her shoulder. Each stroke of his fingers left a trail of static electricity tingling along her skin. Goosebumps erupted beneath his touch, her body feeling like it had been set ablaze, a fire spreading fervently through every nerve ending.
"Are you pleased with yourself, gorgeous girl?" His low and husky voice carried a hint of desire as he gazed into her eyes. His intense gaze seemed to ignite the air around them, charging it with an almost palpable anticipation. His eyes moved slowly tracing a path down her face until they locked onto her lips.
A wave of excitement surged through her, her stomach twisting with a mix of nerves and eagerness. It was unmistakable; he was going to kiss her, and she was more than ready to let him. Her hormones trumped any reasoning at this point, the sensible part of her brain clouded with lust. Levelheaded could not come to the phone right now; she was currently engaged in Olympic-level eye fucking.
A hazy corner of her mind whispered that kissing might be a bad idea, but she instantly smothered out that buzz-killing voice. Eden felt the warmth radiating from his body, his very presence invading her senses. He smelled like a heady blend of leather from his jacket and spice. It wrapped around her like an intoxicating embrace.
As their eyes locked, time seemed to suspend, hanging by a delicate thread. Eden stood in an almost unnatural stillness, caught in the anticipation of what might happen next. His fingertips reached her neck, his thumb gently tracing the rapid rhythm of her pulse before gently tilting her head upward. Her center cinched at the intimate touch as his grip tightened ever so slightly. There was a subtle nod from him, so slight it was almost imperceptible.
Slowly and deliberately, he lowered his hand from her neck, breaking the spell. Eden fought back a groan at the sudden loss of his warmth, her heart still pounding wildly in her chest.
He took a few steps from her and began stowing their belongings into the travel cases fastened to his motorcycle. She remained rooted to the spot, her mind a whirlwind of emotions, watching him with a sense of motionlessness.
What the hell had just happened? She felt like a tightly wound spring, ready to unravel any moment. The fire of their almost-kiss still seared her skin, and her nipples grazed the lace of her bra uncomfortably.
Ronan mounted the motorcycle gracefully, his long leg swinging over the body of the bike. She watched the movement dumbly, her lips parting slightly as she stared at his powerful thigh, gripping the body of the bike. It was rude to look that good, especially when straddling a motorcycle.
Stiffly, she put the hot pink helmet on her head and walked toward the bike. As she approached, she couldn't help but gape at Ronan's broad shoulders and trim waist, swallowing thickly at the sight.
It suddenly dawned on her that she'd have to hold onto his waist for hours on end. It felt like a particular type of punishment. A purgatory for her horniness to marinate for the eight-hour journey to their destination, but it was her cross to bear.
"I don't bite," he assured her, glancing over his shoulder with a rakish smile. His lips curled at the corner, revealing a dimple that popped from his cheek. She swore she heard him rumble "hard" before pulling his all-black helmet over his head. He looked menacing in that helmet. Hotly menacing, it definitely didn't help her current overstimulated situation.
She was in trouble. Big colossal-sized trouble . She lifted her leg and dropped on the furthest part of the leather seat of the motorcycle, trying to get some distance from Ronan. She attempted to adjust her body and placed her feet on the bike pegs to take some pressure off her throbbing center, but then... he started the bike. The rumbling of the engine, in combination with her overstimulated clit had her eyes rolling into the back of her head. This would be a looong ride, for that she was for sure.
With a deft twist of his wrist, he assertively revved the motorcycle's engine. The sudden burst of power sent the bike shuddering in place, her body lurching forward with a quick thrust that flung her against his back. In an instant, she found herself pressed snugly against the solid, muscular expanse of his back, feeling the vibrations of the powerful machine rumbling beneath her. Cheeky bastard.
The friction of her rough denim shorts against her sensitive core sent waves of both delicious and slightly painful sensations coursing through her. She made an embarrassingly breathy moan that was thankfully swallowed by the noise from the engine.
"Are you good to go?" he asked with a sinful laugh that sent shivers down her spine. Oh yes, in more ways than one . She was one wrong movement away from humping his back like a chihuahua.
She tightly wound her arms around his lean waist and tapped his chiseled thigh, marveling at its hardness. As he tucked his legs onto the pegs, she could feel the muscles beneath her hand contracting, responding to his movements. The bike shot down her driveway with astonishing speed, causing his back to bump against her sensitive clit again. Holy shit . She was a goner.
The rush of riding the motorcycle hit her instantly. The wind was cool against her skin, a contrast to the heat building in her as they sped along. It felt like free-falling, that weightless sensation.
Desperate to distract herself from the relentless throbbing between her thighs, she tried to focus her thoughts on anything other than the man in front of her. Flowers, puppies with floppy ears, rainbows, sunshine… but sunshine reminded her of warmth that now enveloped her entirely. Ronan's broad back emanated a powerful heat, seeping through her clothes and encircling her body, and it was impossible to ignore.
As she inched forward, the friction from the seam of her shorts made contact with her sensitive clit. Her inner muscles clenched involuntarily in response, and her heart pounded as if she had just sprinted a half marathon. Desperately, she pressed her thighs together, trying to alleviate the pressure between her legs.
The motorcycle, gliding over a small bump, jostled her body, creating another electrifying rub of her jeans against her center. A surge of pleasure coursed through her, and she gasped in response. Over the next mile, with each bump, the sensation heightened, every turn becoming a form of sweet torture.
The bike's vibrations intensified the sensations until her legs shook, and her breaths came out in panting gasps. Ronan, adjusting the bike for a tight turn, firmly gripped her bare thigh as the road evened out, accelerating the bike's speed. The combination of the denim shorts' seam grating against her center and the feeling of his calloused hand on her thigh triggered an unexpected jerk of her hips.
An orgasm ran through her, and a small, shocked moan escaped her lips. Panting slightly, she hid her face between his shoulder blades, feeling the soft leather of his jacket, and tightened her arms around his firm middle.
She drew in a shaky breath, her face hot with embarrassment that radiated through her entire body. Mortification coursed through her. She had experienced an orgasm while straddling behind him on the motorcycle, and he remained blissfully unaware. What kind of perv does that? Oh lord, she hoped all that was holy he didn't realize.
The humiliation would be overwhelming enough to make her consider going into witness protection to escape the shame. Or maybe she could legally change her name again and take up bank robbery or become a party clown. She heard Antarctica was a lovely place to settle down.
She was already mentally booking a one-way ticket to Antarctica, plotting her escape the second the motorcycle stopped. She just needed to untangle herself from the magnetic pull of the guy in front of her. It was the only way, she was sure of it—get as far away as possible and break free from whatever this was.