Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 108846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
“You thought I’d bring someone else home while we’re doing this?” he asks, the soft pad of his thumb finding my clit to draw teasing circles.
“Well … yeah. You said only the one night.”
He chuckles. “Obviously we’re not following that rule.”
“What changed?”
There’s a long pause as if he’s considering his words. “I don’t enjoy picking up girls at the bar.”
I can’t help but laugh. “I heard how much you enjoyed Sherrie, remember?”
“The part where I came, sure,” he corrects with a dark chuckle. “But it’s all pointless, impersonal. And it didn’t make me feel better about Tasha leaving me.” His breath skates over my cheek. “You don’t feel pointless or impersonal. And even though this is just for now, I feel better when I’m with you.” He pauses. “Is that wrong?”
My God, how did I not realize before that I’m not the only one needing a confidence boost? “No, I get it. You’re still in love with someone else.” My heart pangs in my chest with a rare glimpse at Ronan’s pain. He seems so lost. “And here I thought you were just another cocky asshole taking advantage of a vulnerable girl.”
“I am a cocky asshole. But I’m not a dick, and I don’t fuck over friends.”
“Is that what we are? Friends?”
“Aren’t we?”
I consider that. “I guess you could call us that.”
He nuzzles my cheek with the tip of his nose. “While we’re messing around, I won’t be with anyone else. That’s the only commitment I can make. If that’s good enough for you.”
“Yeah. And same. I mean, not that I have a line of guys waiting—” A soft gasp slips from my lips as his fingers slide inside me with ease, proving my readiness for him.
“You don’t need me in your bed to feel good about yourself, Ryan. You’re incredible and David is an idiot, but that’s his loss, not yours. You’ll find someone else who makes you ten times happier, and you’ll wonder how the hell you ever thought he was the one.”
A warm feeling erupts in my chest with his encouraging words. I hesitate. “Actually, there is one other thing I want from you.”
“Yeah? What’s that?” he asks, never breaking his tempo.
I reach up to touch his stubbled cheek and run my thumb over his bottom lip. I’m torn between wanting to see his face and enjoying the liberty that comes with darkness. But there’s one thing I know I want. “Kiss me.”
“Ryan…” I sense him searching for a way to deny me.
“Please?” I thought I was done begging this man for things.
A long moment passes and then he leans forward and presses his mouth against mine. His lips are softer than I imagined, moving in a sweet, sensual way that I hadn’t expected from him. “Like that?”
“Yes. Exactly like that.” A sigh escapes my lips, and he slides his tongue along the seam. I open wider, my tongue reaching for his, needing it against mine, needing to taste his mouth. He obliges, pressing in deeper, his hand down below stalled, as if his undivided attention is now above. I could do this with him all night long.
“Finally. First base,” I murmur.
His lips stretch against mine in a smile, and then they’re shifting south, along my jawline, my throat, leaving a trail of wet heat. He toys with the spaghetti strap of my nightie. “This is different.”
“Easier to remove.” And a lot sexier than the oversized T-shirts I’ve grown accustomed to sleeping in.
He tugs at the top, uncovering my breast. I moan as he pulls my nipple into his mouth and sucks. How is he so good at everything he does?
Experience, I guess, but I don’t want to think about that. This Tasha girl’s loss is my gain. “What you said earlier to me, about me finding someone else who makes me ten times happier? The same will happen for you. I promise.”
He pauses a moment, and I think he’s going to respond, but then he occupies his mouth once again.
My legs stretch apart without thought, opening for him, a deep ache growing between them that he works to satisfy, stretching me with first two, then three fingers as I roll my hips against his hand, all while I grip the back of his head, holding him against my breast.
I’m writhing under Ronan’s touch, moments away from coming, when heavy footfalls pound in the hallway.
There’s a knock and then, a moment later, Ronan’s bedroom door creaks open. “Hey, bro. I need your help with these two. I’m way too drunk to handle them both.” A pause. “Ronan?” Connor slaps the wall. He’s turning the light on, no doubt.
“Shit,” Ronan hisses against me, pulling away.
Shit is right. Connor may be dense, but even he will put two and two together now. If he does, will that be the end of this?